#I’ll eventually write down the ocs background and post it here…. eventually

[sleepyroronoa]

Back on my oc bullshit again

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

boy you were not rambling </3 do you have a background for val and/or nat? any accompanying stories/fics/arcs for them? do you have anything written for them you’d be open to sharing?

sorry for the questions lmao

I love the questions anon don’t worryyy

Tw for like child death and stuff. Generally a lot of murder and torture happens in both of their storylines, life is rough for them.

Val and Nat are part of a huge oc storyline I’ve been working on since I was like 11 lmao. And I’m always a ‘I don’t want to tell you for spoiler reasons’ mfer even though I know I’ll probably never write it lmao

Val and Nat are both the last remaining children of the gods Vitäädi (or Vitää) and Rya, who were all kind of killed when Rya found out via prophecy that someone of his blood was going to kill him one day, and he didn’t want that. I have some part of Rya that I’ve posted on here somewhere actually.

Val was the eldest son, the strongest. He wasn’t spared as much as he was too difficult to kill. Even when he was 14, not even a matured human let alone a matured god, and he was dragging the bodies of his brothers with him to try and give them the honour of being buried before their father could destroy every last remnant of them. But he wasn’t strong enough. He managed to keep hold of only his youngest sibling, and by a certain point, he knew that he couldn’t keep going with the baby, that Rya would get them both. And death at the hands of Val was a more gentle death than any Rya could offer. He drowned his baby sibling, crying tears of blood as he did it. He dug a grave with his nails until his fingers bled too, and made sure that his sibling was packed too firmly into the earth for Rya to find them.

He ended up slaughtering villages of humans to try and find something else to feel guiltier about. Instead, he ended up just scaring Rya off. He wondered how that worked, until the goddess of fate, who gave Rya the prophecy, warned Val of it too. Of course, Val, as the only remaining child of Rya (and a homosexual) realised he was the last of Rya’s bloodline, and figured out that he needed to get stronger to kill his father.

He earned himself the title of God of War and Bloodshed, by… warring and killing. He killed a lot of people in an attempt to get strong enough to kill his father, and eventually… he decided to kill the gods. Which causes the GodKiller storyline that I was making into a comic for a little while until I realised I can’t draw comics lmao. It culminates in him failing to kill his father, and almost dying.

Wherever his blood spills, flowers grow, so the god of Nature and medicine found him bleeding out and went ‘mmm that’s my husband right there’. He nursed him back to health, they fall inlove, it’s all very sweet, and… Rya’s bloodline continues. Because magic and the power of gay love.

Nat is the drowned baby. Except Val was 14 and didn’t quite know how to fully kill off a god, so they survived. And Rya took them back in, knowing he needed someone else to protect him from Val, someone Val wouldn’t want to hurt. And then… yeah years of torture until they submitted and complied, and then were just released into the world as a broken god. So obviously Nat went ‘im gonna kidnap people and force them to play a murderous game show…’ as the god of Games. And prioritised his death games over protecting Rya, so eventually got imprisoned.

Nat mostly just wanted reassurance that they weren’t weak for having been broken by what they went through. That someone else could understand that kind of trauma in the way they experienced it. Which isn’t an excuse lmao you can’t shoot someone for getting trivia wrong. But that’s… kind of the excuse that they use to get Val to spare them later on. That they’re both just broken people and they both killed to cope with it, so why is the way that Nat killed less justified?

I don’t have anything actually like written down aside from my poor attempt at making the GK storyline, but there’s a bunch of storylines and characters and I’d be happy to talk about any of it.

[tres-fidelis]

((I’ve been playing through Golden again on my switch during my down time and after I get home from work. I’ve missed playing it so much, and it’s been helping me understand more of the canon muses I write, but it’s also helping me find places where my P4 OCs can work their way into the narrative. 

Slowly but surely I’m piecing together the puzzles. At the moment, I think I have Rin’s introductory scenario all set up. Bare with me as I try to cohesively put together my Discord ramblings into separate paragraphs: 

The first time the IT will even get a glimpse of Rin is during the camping trip in June. Kanji mentioned to the others how he was forced to attend the camping trip, because the school would have to hold him back another year. Rin received this same treatment, however since she’s already been held back once before, if she refuses to attend the trip the school would expel her permanently. Since Rin doesn’t want to upset her aunt, she’s forced into going on the trip. 

She’s the only third year student in attendance. Since they rather not set up a separate tent away from the second years, Rin has to share a tent with the second years. She won’t be sharing the same one as Chie and Yukiko since there’s already three inside the tent (and Rin rather not choke Hanako in her sleep because of her snoring). 

The IT doesn’t interact with Rin all that much during the trip. Most of the time you’ll see her lingering by herself in the background during certain scenes, like when the girls make curry for the boys. However, the gang will hear other boys and girls gossiping about some third year student who looks just as scary as Kanji, and is a bit more volatile if you approach her. Some may laugh about how she sat by herself during lunch and dinner, farther away from the other students, and others may recount how she punched one of the teachers who gave her a failing grade. Some may ALSO say how they heard a rumor about the girl being the oldest student in the school because she’s so academically challenged. 

When night comes around, there’s the incident which happens between Kanji and the IT girls. Initially, it’s Chie that knocks him out once he arrives at their tent but I may change it up a little here to have Rin more involved. At the time, Rin isn’t her tent. She rather not sleep with a bunch of strangers that talked nothing but trash about her. Instead, she’s outside the tent smoking a cigarette she snuck with her. Once she hears the commotion going on and someone running near the tents, she decides to check it out. Lo and behold, it’s Kanji making some kind of fuss about ‘being a man’ and ‘not letting girls scare him’. Before Rin really understands the situation and why he’s doing this, she sucker punches him in the gut which instantly knocks him out. There’s a little more to be said here since I have some background info concerning Kanji and Rin’s relationship, but that’s another post I’ll make in the future. 

Rin also gets Morooka’s attention while he’s piss drunk, which inevitably helps out Yosuke’s and Yu’s situation concerning the girls staying in their tent. She manages to charm and talk her way out of getting in trouble, thankfully since the man had been drinking too much. Eventually, she does retire for the night. 

The next day, Rin doesn’t leave when all the students are dismissed. She takes the time to enjoy the outdoors and mountainside air without any other teens around trying to ruin her mood. She ventures towards the river, more upstream than the place where Yu and the others go for their swim. There she sees Morooka vomiting after his night of hard drinking, and gets a good laugh watching his misfortune. She follows the water downstream and notices the IT hanging around the waterfall area. Of course since she knows Morooka just heaved most of his dinner and alcohol, she laughs and mocks the boys for taking a swim in dirty water. After calling them losers and enjoying their bad luck, she waves them off and leaves the area. 

This is the first time the IT sees Rin’s face. This is also their first encounter with the girl too. Although if Yu does talk with the locals around the Shopping District before the camping trip, he may have already heard about “a large brute who works at the car shop in town.”

[bfictioncorner]

Pink Sweater (Hopper x OC/Reader)

(Omg I’ve forgotten how to write fic summaries.)

Pairing: Chief Hopper x OC (or reader if you wanna change the name and pretend)

Rating: PG-13/R 

Warnings/content: erotic dancing, daddy kink (mild), grinding, over-the-clothes stuff...

Summary: Hopper meets a new dancer at a local joint but can’t place where he knows her from.

Author Note:

Okay finally posting this after sitting on it for like a year for a few different reasons... Sort of a self-insert/OC type of situation, inspired by boredom and downtime while actually working on set of the actual show (yes... I’m cringe like that; I did background work on Stranger Things and wrote this up.)

Enjoy?

Long nights on duty were disorienting, and definitely lonely. Despite knowing the next morning he would see the guys at the station, and the same waitresses at the diners and coffee shops, and, eventually, Joyce and one of the many children in her kids’ friend group, the late night patrols put Jim in a weird headspace. A very liminal headspace that reminded him a little too much of some of the weirder ongoings in the town.

It probably wasn’t a good look, but after nights like those, he would allow himself to sneak off to Gallyan’s. At least the name was somewhat discreet, and not something like “Peaches” or “Twin Spires”. Not that it mattered. He was the Chief of Police, and could get away with it. Or, the truth, he knew, was that people were aware of his less-than-professional behavior, and just let it slide. Who else was going to do his job? The law enforcement presence in Hawkins was small and bumbling, and hardly ever needed. The most he ever needed to do was break up fights outside bars, and even then he didn’t care to do that. 

It was a Tuesday night at Gallyan’s (more like Wednesday morning at 2am). Jim hadn’t been there in a few months. He sat in his vehicle, just outside the cheap neon signage, debating on if he was even really feeling it. He needed something to get him out of his funk. Not coffee, not pills, not something that would make it worse. He wasn’t particularly in the mood, but it was worth a try. 

“Okay…” he breathed out. He finished his cigarette hurriedly, and slammed the door behind him. 

Walking into the place, he kept his hat tipped low, and his blue jacket on, just covering his badge. The doormen were still well aware it was him, mumbling a greeting and not even asking for an entry fee.

The further in he got, Jim finally, slowly, removed his hat, brow staying low with his glance cast down. He shouldn’t have felt weird or bad about being there, but he recognized a lot of sleazy faces he’d detained in the past, and it was just uncomfortable.

“Hi handsome, how are you tonight?” a gentle voice asked him, right as he sat at a far away table.

“Fine…” Jim trailed off as he looked the woman up and down. She was all of five feet tall (maybe some change with the heels, but still tiny), and dressed in a very subtle, pink lingerie set.

Something about her short stature and black bangs seemed familiar. Those features weren’t super defining, but they stood out enough and he couldn’t tell why…

“I’m Goldie,” the dancer said, closing the space between her and the chief’s lap.

“Oh, like Goldilocks. Is that because of your long, blonde locks?” Jim smiled sarcastically, eyes trailing over her black hair.

“Mmmhmm. Don’t have three bears, though… Just looking at one big one.” She bit her tongue in a cheeky smile, sliding down onto his lap fully. 

Jim started fishing around for his wallet. As much as being called a “bear” surprisingly turned him on, he knew she was just trying to initiate a transaction. Fair enough.

“How much? $50? $100? I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve noticed you here before, but you’re probably one of the more expensive dancers, right?”

“I’ll take that, even though $50 is still a bit low…” She had to chuckle at him. “This one’s on me.”

“Nothing’s ever free, Goldie. What do you want? I had a long shift. Let me pay whatever you want upfront.”

Jim couldn’t understand why she was laughing again, or being sweet on him. Like genuinely sweet, and laughing as if she was shy about something.

“Listen, if you’re trying to offer some other services, maybe it’s best you don’t.” He clinked at his badge with his index finger.

“I’m not offering that,” Goldie sighed pointedly. “Let me give you this one on the house, and just join me out back for a drink after. My shifts get long and stressful too, you know. Sometimes I just want company.” There was that sweet little smirk again.

Goldie was talking to him like she knew him. He still couldn’t think if he’d known her from somewhere. But why him?

Most girls around the club had been dancing to a soundtrack of fast paced hair metal. It wasn’t terrible, but the energy was a bit much for that hour of the night/morning. However (maybe by Goldie’s subtle request), the next track eased into “Dance the Night Away”, a little more soft and mellow. 

Goldie’s moves were refreshingly gentle and loving. In fact, she had a hard time not looking back at Jim with heavy lids and a flirtatious glance. 

She sank against his broad, warm body, leaning against his chest and feeling his breath against her ear. He smelled smokey and like beer (even though he hadn’t had a drink yet). It was a fitting and weirdly endearing scent.

She placed his big hands firmly around her waist, allowing him to pull her over his crotch. The uniform fabric, from his thick thighs to the tightness below his belt, was so taut and inviting. Goldie couldn’t help but run her hands over those legs, lingering over the plush outer sides of his ass.

Jim used his firm grip to turn her to face him.

“Ah, ah,” she chastised, gleefully, “I’m giving the dance here.”

He replied with a small, shot down glance. She loved being so tiny compared to him and telling him what to do.

After a moment of some sways here and there, Goldie settled back onto the officer’s lap, squeezing her thighs around the width of his. She smoothed her little hands over his chest--his pecs straining slightly under his shirt. He was just so big all around.

“Don’t mind me…” She plucked open the top shirt button, and then the one after that. Seeing his chest hair peek out the top, she raked her pink fingernails through it. 

Her hands continued roaming around, gripping his soft waist, then his shoulders, then giving in to the urge to smooth her fingers over his rugged beard. She just about purred at the feel of it. Jim took notice, and discreetly slid his hands over her backside, all while offering a playful grin.

“Keep it over the panties, Chief,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She liked that a lot.

The song kept going as she continued to grind rhythmically against his crotch. His tight pants had only gotten tighter, and his hardness started to rub friction in the right spot for her. But she couldn’t let that happen. Not tonight, or at least not at work.

She pressed his head to her chest, trying to ease off of the grinding slowly. Even his stubble felt delicious against her bosom. He breathed in how much she smelled like cherry candy and whiskey--an interesting combo, but one that fit her small, friendly demeanor.

The song faded out, and just like that, Poison was playing over the speakers, and Goldie was off his lap. 

Jim was afraid that was it. Not only would he be left halfway pitching a tent, but he still didn’t know where he knew Goldie from.

Disappointed, he sank against his chair and lit a smoke. 

“Come on…” A tiny touch accompanied the voice. Goldie now stood beside him with a bottle of Evan Williams. “I’m off duty and so are you, so let’s have that drink.”

The big chief followed the petite dancer down the back halls and out an emergency exit. The bouncers wouldn’t have usually allowed anyone clearance, but they recognized Jim all too well, and could see that Goldie was leading him around, like a puppy.

They emerged into the brisk early morning air. Goldie, now draped in a big leather jacket, looked so small and so much younger than she first looked in the dim lights. 

She teasingly swiped the cigarette from Jim’s lips, smoking on it herself. “I gotta say, I’ve been hoping I’d get to see you here. It’s kinda weird.” She bundled herself against him for extra warmth, and he absent-mindedly wrapped an arm around her.

“Where have I seen you?” he smiled. In most other cities, if someone seemed familiar, it was just a coincidence or something. But Hawkins was small. People only had so many places to go, and so many people to run into.

“Do you remember doing Career Day a year and a half ago? At Hawkins High, for the seniors?” 

He sort of did. Most days were hazy due to weird hours, liquor, and boredom. 

“Guess you could say I didn’t take you up on the summer job… Or any of those jobs, haha.” She handed the stubby cigarette back to Jim.

That petite frame, the fluffy dark hair, the pink… It reminded Jim of a student who, after the Career Day presentations, awkwardly approached him. Super shy, and dressed very modestly in a pink sweater, pink tights, and a long blue church skirt.

The student, in question, bashfully asked if the station was hiring anyone to help with filing, or even cleaning and errand running. Jim told them to go speak to Flo if she wanted any help. But it didn’t seem to really matter. The girl kind of lingered, eyes looking him up and down while blushing.

“Sorry, had a crush on you,” Goldie blurted, a bit more bluntly than she meant. 

The corner of Jim’s lip curled up. He leaned his hip and shoulder against the wall, while slightly craning down to look into her eyes. “I’m probably old enough to be your dad.”

A giddy chill ran down Goldie’s spine. “I’m still a grown woman. I know my tastes. My tastes are pretty mature.” She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m into the dad-type.”

She glanced at him with a touch more lust in her words.

“So you had a crush on me. Huh.”

“Didn’t say it went away…”

Jim’s eyes darted around for a moment, masking the fact that he was a bit flattered and flustered.

Goldie could see through, though, and handed him the bottle of bourbon.

“So… if you want… I can give you my number, and maybe—“

“You come see me here again,” Goldie responded with a wink. “For now.”

“Fair enough.” Jim smiled, and offered back the bottle.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Not All Bets

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, References to Violence, Non-Explicit Sexual References, Non-Explicit Recreational Drug Use References, Underage Tobacco Consumption.

Summary: After all, risk taking and rising to challenges comprised large components of their individual personalities. Their respective upbringings had taught them each to be daring and relentless in their own ways. And when one found another in life who also had a predisposition to partaking in games of chance, proposing and engaging in some amiable bets became a natural way to evolve their friendship, and eventually, relationship.

Word Count: 10,000 ish. Y’all, this one really got away from me.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this oneshot is directly related to the fic After All. The masterlist of said fic can be found here. Reading After All before reading this oneshot is not necessary, but doing so will provide a lot of background context for Riff and the OC.

Request from Anonymous (1): “Could you maybe do a oneshot on how did Roxie and Riff's first actual kiss (the pre- After All relationship) happen? (Also, I noticed that the title "after all" is in most of the chapter summary description and I just wanted to say that that was very clever)”

Request from Anonymous (2): ““Hello! Saw that you were doing oneshots and HCs, so I was wondering if you could write about Roxie and Riff meeting, or when they started dating, I’ve always wonder how their relationship began! Thanks and btw I’m obsessed with the history and your writing!!”

A/N : Hi everyone! 😊 Here’s another oneshot for you that will hopefully make the wait for the next part worth it. I hadn’t intended on this one being so long, but like I mentioned above, it got away from me. Writing awkward, young 15ish Tony, Riff, and Roxie was way more fun than I anticipated it to be. I’m planning on posting Part 20 of After All next Wednesday, 5/11. I’ve got it outlined, but have yet to actually start writing it, so... I know what I’ll be doing in my free time over the next week.😅

If you would like to submit a oneshot request, or if you just have questions/comments, please feel free to reach out.😊 My ask box is always open, and I love hearing from/chatting with you guys!

As always, thank you taking time out of your day to read my little works. I hope you all have a good rest of the week!😊💙

Gambling was supposed to have been a vice, but when it came to gambling with and on Roxie, it didn’t always feel like one to Riff.

Although, Riff had to admit that literal gambling in and of itself had rarely ever led to a positive outcome for either of them. Visits to secret gambling houses, pockets that were already sparse becoming even more empty, sentences in the county jail, and more than one run in with a member of the local mob were just a few of the problems they’d faced over the years as a result of their mutually enjoyed but illegal pastime.

However, many turning points in their relationship revolved around gambling’s more socially acceptable counterpart: betting.

Strangers may have frowned upon the notion, but it hardly came as a surprise to anyone who truly knew them. After all, risk taking and rising to challenges comprised large components of their individual personalities. Their respective upbringings had taught them each to be daring and relentless in their own ways. And when one found another in life who also had a predisposition to partaking in games of chance, proposing and engaging in some amiable bets became a natural way to evolve their friendship, and eventually, relationship.

And it was those moments Riff would recall fondly to himself when times were particularly tough. Whenever they were arguing, and especially after Riff decided to call things off with Roxie in the winter of 1955, Riff would allow himself to take a trip down memory lane and recall several instances where betting, along with a gentle kick from fate that nudged them in the right direction, played a pivotal role in them ending up together.

Though Riff supposed there were more, there were three specific bets he’d made with Roxie over the years that stuck out in his memory.

————————————————————————————

“Please?”

“No.”

“Tony?”

“... Sorry, Roxie. I gotta go with Riff on this one.”

Roxie crossed her arms and sighed frustratedly. Though she was clearly passionate about her stance, neither Riff nor Tony were likely to budge on theirs.

Riff eyed Tony suspiciously. Riff was certain he hadn’t let it slip to her what their plans for the upcoming weekend were. And since he and Tony were the only ones who knew about said plans, that only left one culprit who would have mentioned it to Roxie- accidentally or otherwise.

Riff had gotten an invite from an inside member, who also happened to be his go-to pot dealer for the past year, to a pop-up gambling house. Though it was an alluring offer, he wasn’t stupid. He was young, and even though he knew his way around a poker table, he also knew that he was extremely likely to be targeted by hustlers. And that would only happen if he would be able to schmooze his way inside.

Naturally, Riff recruited Tony to accompany him. Riff trusted Tony with his life, they were both always in need of cash, and Tony’s sheer size would at least deter some people from messing with them.

And now, Roxie had somehow gotten word of their plans. She had just cornered them just after the final school bell rang. Riff and Tony had barely made it through the front door of the school when they heard their names being called down the hallway.

As she attempted in vain to convince them to see her side, the three of them began the trek to their respective homes. 

Roxie walking home with Tony and Riff wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but lately, she had been walking home with Velma more often than not. And that particular day, and given the specific circumstances, neither of the boys were super stoked that she was walking alongside them.

Though Tony was usually more patient with her, Riff hadn’t been able to tolerate Roxie’s presence much at all over the past few weeks. She seemed to always have an answer for everything, and she never hesitated to call Riff out when she thought she knew better than him. And while she did all of this, Roxie was almost always smiling, as if the shitty neighborhood they were tethered to contained anything or anyone worth smiling at.

To be fair, Riff supposed none of that wasn’t exactly new behavior for Roxie. The pair hadn’t always gotten along over the past five years, but they'd at least been entangled in what some would call a friendship.

It all left Riff figuratively scratching his head about why Roxie’s behavior now left him feeling irritated with no end in sight.

“Fine, don’t let me go with you. But you’re making a mistake,” Roxie declared.

Even though Riff couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Roxie had started to get on his nerves so much, he knew it with the utmost certainty whenever she opened her mouth that it was real.

Riff laughed to himself connivingly as he braced himself for Roxie’s explanation. This’ll be good.

“Oh, yeah?” Tony challenged her with a smirk. “Why’s that?”

“I know how to play poker.”

Riff and Tony looked at each other with neutral expressions for the briefest of moments, before both of them erupted into a fit of laughter.

Roxie frowned at their behavior. “Why are you laughing? I do!”

Riff threw his head back while Tony made a scene of gripping his side as the pair laughed even harder.

“Listen, Roxie,” Tony began after a few good moments of laughter, wiping an invisible tear from his eye as he calmed down, “that’s a good one.”

“But I really know how to play,” Roxie insisted, obviously not finding their amusement at her expense funny.

“Please,” Riff snickered, waving a dismissing hand in her direction. “This much laughter ain’t good for me, Roxie. It’s startin’ to hurt.”

Roxie narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll give you something else that hurts to focus on instead.”

Riff’s laughter ceased abruptly at her threat. “The answer’s still no.”

“What if I can prove to you that I know how to play?” Roxie proposed. “Would you let me go with you then?”

Riff looked at Tony questioningly.

If, and that was a big if, Roxie knew how to play poker, she could be potentially an asset on their upcoming excursion to the gambling house. Riff already knew how to play poker- he’d known for years- and he’d taught Tony a few years back. But, having a third person to keep an eye out for them certainly wouldn’t hurt.

However, if Roxie tagged along, they were bound to have even more strangers’ eyes on them. Two young guys like Riff and Tony being in a place like a gambling house was questionable, sure… but Riff, Tony, and a young girl like Roxie? Pft, they’d be lucky if they weren’t pegged as possible narcs the very moment they stepped in the door. Not to mention the fact that Riff would likely be concerned about her wellbeing the whole night. Him and Tony could hold their own in a fight or other confrontation if need be, but as for Roxie? She was likely to be a liability.

Hell, if she’s gonna be this stubborn ‘bout it…

Tony merely shrugged in response to Roxie’s question, so Riff decided for the both of them.

“Ya know what? Fine. If you can prove ya know how to play, we’ll consider lettin’ ya tag along.”

Roxie beamed, as though that was exactly what wanted to hear. At her reaction Riff found himself questioning whether giving her an inch was the best move.

“Great,” Roxie enthused, clapping her hands together once. “How can I prove I know how to play?”

“Ya gotta play Riff in a few hands,” Tony said immediately, knowing that Riff was the stronger player of the two.

“Perfect,” Roxie agreed. She took a look around the block as they walked. “My aunt’s apartment is closest to here, and I’ve got a deck of cards… how about we go there?”

“Lead the way.”

Riff and Tony followed Roxie to her aunt’s apartment in silence for the rest of the way. Riff had no way of knowing what Tony’s thoughts were in those few minutes, but all Riff could think about was how satisfying it would be to beat Roxie at poker and prove that her little tale of hers was just that- a tale.

There was absolutely no way Roxie actually knew how to play the game. What had his father always said?

‘Poker’s a man’s game.’

Roxie pointed to a building up the street. “It’s this building right here.”

The two boys followed her inside the building and up the stairs until they reached the fourth floor. Roxie dug around in her school bag momentarily before withdrawing some keys. She unlocked the door, and gestured to them both to follow her inside.

Riff and Tony entered the apartment slowly, neither of them exactly sure what to expect.

“My aunt’s at work,” Roxie said from behind them, as if reading their minds and sensing their hesitancy. After closing and locking the door, Roxie walked past them, set her school bag down on the nearby couch, and disappeared into one of the two bedrooms.

Tony put his hands in his pockets and took a few steps further into the room.

Riff took the opportunity to glance around the room. After only a few seconds of looking around, it was clear that just two girls, and only two girls lived in the apartment. Although it was small, and a bit dated- like everything else in the neighborhood- it was still neat and tidy. Not a single dish was in the sink, and Riff knew that if he ran his fingers along any of the furniture, he wasn’t likely to find a single spec of dust on his fingers.

Roxie returned to the room with a deck of cards in her hands. She stopped and tilted her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Shall we?”

Riff nodded in response, and then he and Tony followed her into the kitchen area. Roxie placed the deck of cards upon the table and took a seat in one of the two chairs. She looked up at Riff, and then purposefully gestured towards the seat across the table from her.

“Let’s get this over with,” Riff said dramatically, although he took his seat quickly. As he settled into his seat, he looked up, and met Roxie’s challenging stare. Unfazed, Riff picked up the deck of cards, and blindly held them out in Tony’s general direction. “Tony, be a pal and check the cards, won’t ya?”

“Do you really think they’re fake?” Roxie asked with a half-smile and an amused twinkle in her eye.as Tony began to skim through the cards.

“Just wanna make sure.”

“Smart,” Roxie conceded, which surprised Riff. For how quick she usually was to call him out whenever she deemed him wrong about something, it was refreshing for her to admit that he was actually right for once.

Despite his surprise, Riff didn’t skip a beat. “Believe it or not, I have my moments.”

Roxie opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by Tony placing the cards back onto the table. “They’re legit,” he confirmed.

“Let’s do best two out of three hands” Roxie suggested, dropping the previous subject. “If I win, you two will let me go with you to the gambling house on Saturday.”

“Best three out of five hands,” Riff countered. He was confident in his own ability to play the game, but just in case Roxie had a trick or two up her sleeve, he wanted to give himself a comfy cushion by which to secure his win.

“Fine,” Roxie agreed readily, unbothered. “Would you deal the cards, Tony?”

The stare down between Riff and Roxie promptly resumed. Tension filled the air around them as the only sound that could be heard for several moments was the small whooshing of the cards as Tony dealt them upon the table.

Riff’s first hand was crappy, but he couldn’t have helped that. Of course Roxie had won it.

“Beginner’s luck,” he chalked it up to. Tony nodded in agreement.

“I’ve actually known how to play for years,” Roxie informed him, “But if that’s your form of compliment, I’ll take it.”

Riff bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything further while Tony dealt the cards for the second hand.

Riff had a decent hand the second time around. But, to Roxie’s credit- and he really hated admitting it- he couldn’t get a read on how good she thought her own hand was. Instead, Riff settled with trying to get her to fold. Unfortunately, she simply wouldn’t budge. 

Eventually, Riff went all in, but Roxie’s hand ended up being better than his own yet again.

Roxie tried to hide her smile as she processed her first two victories. Riff didn’t know why she bothered to hide it- he certainly wouldn’t be if he had been in her shoes. She had a hell of an advantage.

Roxie had won the first two hands. If she won the next one, she’d take the whole cake, and Riff wouldn’t be able to make a comeback.

“Come on, Buddy Boy,” Tony encouraged, though his reassuring words were tainted by slight nervousness Riff detected in his voice. “Ya fallin’ apart or somethin’?”

Riff shot him a stern look, immediately silencing him.

Tony took the hint and dealt the third hand.

After Tony finished disbursing the cards, Riff looked at what he’d been given. As soon as he saw the several groups of matching suits and numbers, he knew the universe had simply been testing him up until that point. He must have had to put up with Roxie’s insufferableness for the first two hands so that he could be given the third, damning, nail-in-the-coffin type hand he now had in his possession. The universe had a funny way of working sometimes.

The two went through the motions of debating whether the other would fold.

“Alright, you two,” Tony announced, “Let’s see what ya got.”

“I am so, so sorry about this, Roxie,” Riff swore, though in actuality, he was anything but. He couldn’t let her win that easily. Riff placed his cards down on the table face up with a sly smile, presenting them to Roxie and Tony with great ado. “Full house.”

Roxie’s eyes fell to his cards. She noted them, and nodded once. “It’s a good hand.”

What the-

Riff’s eyes narrowed. That was about the furthest thing from her reaction than anything he could’ve possibly guessed. Annoyance seeped back into Riff as the corners of Roxie’s mouth upturned slowly.

She placed her cards down on the table, face up.

Four of a kind.

Riff cursed under his breath.

“Wow,” Tony said plainly, stunned. “Would ya look at that?”

Riff nibbled on his thumb and bounced his right foot out of irritation to distract himself and to ensure he wouldn’t say something out of anger in the moment that he would later regret.

“So, you’ll let me go?” Roxie asked hopefully.

There’s that damn smile again.

Tony was smiling, too.

Despite that he had obviously been in agreement with Riff not even half an hour beforehand, Tony didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the larger implications of Roxie’s victory. In addition to making sure they didn’t get hustled, or got arrested, both he and Tony would now be responsible for chaperoning Roxie on their trip to the gambling house. Tony being flippant of that fact only fueled Riff’s annoyance more.

“A deal’s a deal,” Tony confirmed. He looked to Riff expectantly “Right, Riff?”

What else could Riff do at that moment? He didn’t like the results of the bet at all, but with Tony and Roxie staring at him, he was forced to accept his loss with a defeated sigh.

“Ya better be able to pull your weight, Roxanne.”

…

Riff lost that bet, but, God as his witness, he’d win the next one.

Even if it was only to see the look on Roxie’s face when he did so.

————————————————————————————

“Look at him go.”

Roxie and Riff were sitting in one of the booths at Doc’s, watching the scene before them unfold with great interest.

Across the store, Tony was leaning against the counter and trying to schmooze up some pretty blonde girl.

Graziella was the girl’s name. She was pretty, and from what Riff could tell, she seemed like a pleasant enough girl. A fun one, definitely.

Tony had first met her a few weeks back. As he recounted to Riff, Graziella had been in the neighborhood with her older cousin one weekend. The cousin had been visiting a boyfriend at the time, and Graziella must have decided to tag along. It had been a hot day, and naturally, the trio decided to swing by Doc’s for a cold Coke. Funny enough, Tony had had the same idea that day, and when he and Graziella both headed for the small fridge in the corner of Doc’s that contained Coke at the exact same moment, the rest of it was history.

Since that fateful day, Tony had made himself a presence in Doc’s each and every weekend like it was his job. Riff wasn’t sure how Valentina felt about that… but if it annoyed her, the better.

Tony had been nothing but hopeful, and he grabbed at any chance he could to see Graziella again. Sadly, he hadn’t been lucky the past few weekends, so Riff and Roxie decided to tag along for some moral support. Graziella had been all Tony had been able to talk about for weeks, and Riff and Roxie couldn’t resist the urge to possibly see the girl of Tony’s fascination with their own eyes.

Tony’s luck finally turned around when Graziella entered Doc’s that Saturday afternoon. This time, she was without the escort of her older cousin and said cousin’s boyfriend. The absence of the chaperones empowered Tony to try something truly bold, even for him. As soon as she entered the store, Tony greeted her with a smile and wave, as if she had been an old friend. Graziella greeted him back, and walked over to the counter. Tony shuffled out of the booth, where he had been sitting with Riff and Roxie, and followed Graziella across the store like a love-sick puppy dog.

“I don’t think she’s going to say yes,” Roxie stated, though she seemed to take no pleasure in her opinion.

Riff set his bottle of Coke down onto the table and tore his eyes away from Tony and Graziella. He turned to face Roxie with raised eyebrows. “Ya don’t think so?”

Roxie shrugged. “She’s not from around here.”

Though Tony was his oldest and bestest pal, Riff wouldn’t deny that perhaps the girl was a little bit out of his league. She clearly wasn’t from the neighborhood, and Riff could tell from the clothes she wore and the jewelry that adorned her neck and dangled from her ears that wherever she came from, her family was well off.

Roxie’s question was unspoken, but Riff heard it anyway: What would a girl like that want with a guy like Tony?

Perhaps Roxie had a point. But if Roxie wasn’t going to be the cheering section that Tony needed, Riff would. Plus, Riff would be damned if he told Roxie he actually agreed with her on something.

“I think she’ll say yes,” Riff disagreed calmly, though intentionally. He took another glance over his shoulder at the pair across the room. “She’s buyin’ what he’s sellin’.”

Roxie’s brows furrowed. “How do ya know?”

Riff smirked, and took another drink of Coke. “Ya just know. I mean, look at the way she’s standin’.”

Roxie leaned to the side slowly, so as to not to draw attention to herself, and looked around Riff’s head. Riff remained facing forward, watching her intriguingly as she analyzed the pair conversing behind him.

“What do you mean, ‘by the way she’s standing’?” Roxie questioned.

“She’s leanin’ towards him,” Riff clarified. “She’s practically eatin’ outta his hand.”

“... Maybe she is,” Roxie acknowledged. She frowned slightly and settled back into her seat. “So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

Riff sighed, and began wondering to himself whether he really needed to explain his logic to her, or if Roxie was just testing his patience by feigning ignorance on the subject. “That’s how all ya girls act when you’re smitten with a fella.”

Roxie scoffed in disbelief. “We do not.”

Riff hummed, taking slight pleasure in the fact that she seemed to be getting frustrated. “Maybe not all of ya... But you do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Roxie. Lawrence Anderson?”

“What about him?”

“I seen the way ya get when ya talk to him.”

“You have not.”

“I just saw ya the other day- just one little gust of wind, and ya practically would’ve been in his arms!” Riff said, standing his ground. Then, in a sickeningly teasing tone, he added, “Admit it; you’re absolutely smitten with him.”

Riff could recall the scene in his mind perfectly. Earlier that week, on a day he’d actually gone to school, he passed Roxie in the hallway when he was headed to meet Tony for lunch in the cafeteria. Riff would’ve actually said hi to her, but Roxie was too busy talking to the Lawrence fella. Whatever he had to say, which Riff couldn’t imagine was very much, Roxie seemed highly intrigued by it. She had pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward as she listened to him intently.

In fact, Roxie leaning towards Lawrence was almost exactly the same way Graziella was leaning towards Tony at that moment.

Roxie seemed highly displeased by Riff’s insinuation. If the glare wasn’t obvious enough, her fingers, which were starting to turn white, capturing her bottle of Coke in a death grip would have been more than sufficient of a hint.

“I am not smitten with Lawrence Anderson,” Roxie said in a low voice.

If Riff thought that there was even the smallest chance that she would lunge out at him, he might have been scared by her warning tone and the fuming look in her eyes. But he felt pretty confident that Roxie would never lay a finger on him, and Riff was having way too much fun riling her up.

“That’s not what your leanin’ said,” Riff replied with a smirk and nonchalant shrug.

Roxie glared at him for a few more seconds before breaking eye contact and letting out an angry huff of air. “Let’s get back to the issue at hand, okay? As nice as she seems, there is no way that girl is going to say yes to going to the dance with Tony.”

Riff had heard plenty about the upcoming dance.

Riff had been asked to the dance by Maggie Sanders, a senior at their school. Riff could tell by the way she’d talked to him that she was a bit smitten with him herself. They’d even gone together to the last dance. They had a nice time… and if Riff was one to kiss and tell, which he usually wasn’t, they may have indulged in a little bit of fun after... but nothing too scandalous, of course.

It wasn’t like Riff didn’t want to go to the upcoming dance with Maggie, but he had yet to give her an answer. He wanted to keep his options open.

The school put on a lot of dances, and they weren’t always limited to the high school students, either. Some of them were open to the public, just like the next one was. Graziella would be free to go with Tony, if she so desired.

Riff took another look over his shoulder at the referenced pair. As he suspected, Graziella was still leaning towards Tony, hanging on to his every word. Meanwhile, though Riff couldn’t see his face, Tony seemed cool, calm, and collected as he leaned against the counter in a relaxed stance.

Got this one in the bag.

“Tell ya what,” Riff said as he turned back around. “You don’t think she’ll say yes. I think she will. What do ya say ‘bout makin’ this interestin’?”

Roxie caught on to his subtle suggestion almost immediately, like Riff suspected she would. As she processed his words, she smiled for the first time in a few minutes. “I’d say that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while.”

Riff rolled his eyes at her back-handed compliment.

“What are the terms?” Roxie inquired.

Riff pursed his lips as he racked his brain for something enticing enough that would convince Roxie to agree to the bet. He glanced at the bottle of Coke that her fingers were still tightly wrapped around, and suddenly, it hit him.

“If this girl tells Tony to hit the road,” Riff proposed, “then I’ll buy ya a Coke whenever ya want for the next month.”

Roxie’s eyes widened in surprise at his offer. “Are you sure you’d be able to swing that?”

Riff probably wouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He’d find a way to keep his word if he lost, despite the financial implications. However, Riff had no intention of actually losing.

“That’s for me to worry ‘bout.”

Roxie still didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she dropped the subject. “And, if by some miracle this girl tells Tony she’ll go to the dance with him, what do you want?”

Riff was willing to take the win just for the sake of winning itself. He hadn’t thought far ahead enough to decide what else he wanted out of it. Besides the satisfaction of winning, what else did he actually want or need?

… Maybe to get even?

Roxie had ended up tagging along to the gambling house a few weeks back, and even though by the end of the night she had played a significant role in winning them all a little bit of cash, Riff could hardly relax the entire time. He kept looking over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint anyone who even looked at her in a questionable way. And, in all honesty, since they were a bunch of kids among adults, many people had looked oddly their way. Riff had been on edge the entire night. It was hardly the fun, albeit risky outing he had envisioned for the evening.

… Maybe it would be pouring salt in the wound after he won their bet, but Riff didn’t really care. Maggie Sanders would forgive him; Riff had just discovered another option that seemed far too entertaining to pass up.

“If I win, you have to go to the dance with me.“

In an instinctual reaction, Roxie’s jaw dropped. She shook her head once and recovered her composure. “I can’t go to the dance with you, Riff.”

“Why not?” Riff challenged playfully. “Got another date lined up?”

“No-”

“Lawrence didn’t ask ya the other day?”

Roxie deadpanned. “No. He didn’t ask me, and I don’t have another date.”

Her tone was firm, but was that disappointment Riff sensed in her tone as well? … The double take made Riff dare to wonder if Roxie had wanted Lawrence to ask her to the day Riff had seen them talking in the hallway… and if that was true, that bothered him.

On one hand, what business did Riff have with Roxie’s personal affairs? She was just a friend, and a bit of an annoying one at that. He certainly had no grounds on which to advise her on who she should and shouldn’t date. She’d only laugh at him and tell him to take his unwanted opinions elsewhere.

…

But on the other hand, how could Lawrence not have asked her to the dance? Riff had seen glimpses of Roxie at the last dance they all attended- he knew she could hold her own on the dance floor. And, if he had to admit it… Roxie had looked nice, too, and was no stick in the mud either. Despite the fact that they were qualities that seemed to annoy Riff on a near daily basis as of late, Roxie’s determination, resourcefulness, and willingness to not only speak her mind but put someone in their place would keep any guy on his toes. She’d be far from a boring date.

“I’m surprised you’re even going to the dance,” Roxie admitted. “You know, with everything going on.”

Riff knew exactly what Roxie was referring to. “Everything going on” meant the increasing heat between the Jets and the Bishops.

The Jets, which consisted of Riff, Tony, and a few of their closest pals, were relatively new in concept, but the crew was already beginning to feel like a band of brothers. They were quite an eccentric group of guys- Riff, Tony, Ice, Action, Diesel, and Gee-Tar, but they got by. They all had each other’s back, and everyone- including the Bishops- knew it.

The Bishops seemed to pop up out of nowhere over the summer. As soon as they got settled into the neighborhood, they’d proclaimed the streets as theirs. They started messing around with some local businesses, and causing some other general mischief. Though they had proclaimed their antics as pranks, to put it frankly, they were barking up the wrong tree.

And of course, the Jets weren’t willing to have any of it. It was their neighborhood, and no one else was going to simply move in and tell them otherwise. The neighborhood was their home. Since many of them had less than stellar upbringings, the literal neighborhood itself was just about the only thing they had left.

Hence, a growing history of skirmishes and fights in alleyways between the Bishops and the Jets had begun.

Even as recently as last week, Riff had gotten into it with the leader of the Bishops, despite the fact that he had yet to learn the guy’s name. It hadn’t exactly been Riff’s fault... Their leader must’ve lived near Riff’s uncle's auto shop, and the two passed each other on the sidewalk more often than Riff cared to admit. The guy had been eyeing Riff challengingly for the past month, and last week it had escalated into verbal taunts. When Riff got into his face and demanded he repeated his hateful words, things escalated quickly.

Another Bishop or two showed up out of nowhere, and quickly joined their leader in attempting to pummel Riff. Thankfully, Tony showed up and saved his neck before any of them could get any decent hits in.

Later, once it became apparent what had happened, Roxie berated him for his hot-headedness. But despite her apparent disapproval, she still looked him over briefly to make sure he was truly alright.

But the upcoming dance would offer a nice distraction and a way to de-stress from “everything going on” with the Bishops, and Riff found himself actually looking forward to it.

“A girl actually asked me to go with her,” Riff told Roxie matter of factly.

Roxie looked surprised. “And you’d rather go with me instead?”

… Maybe not so much that, but Riff couldn’t deny the idea of getting on Roxie’s nerves for an entire evening sounded like a fun way to pass the time. Plus, it would be more than an adequate payback for what he had been through for their night at the gambling house. And Riff got to fit in a little dancing here and there, it would be win-win-in in his book. Besides, if Lawrence wasn’t going to ask Roxie to the dance and show her a good time, Riff knew beyond a doubt that he was more than capable of doing so.

“Do ya agree to the terms of the bet, or not?” Riff asked, leaving her question unanswered. “… Nevermind, it’s fine. I can see it on your face- you’re gonna chicken out.. Acceptin’ defeat ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of, Roxie.”

Of course, Roxie took the bait. Her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in a thin line. “I’m not going to chicken out. You’re on.”

The two lightly clinked their Coke bottles together in lieu of shaking hands in their own way of agreement.

The next few minutes passed slowly as Riff wondered whether he was about to be even more hard-strapped for cash than usual, or if he was going to have the pleasure of seeing Roxie’s aunt’s disapproving face when he dropped by the apartment to pick her up for the dance. The woman already had something out for Riff, and the two of them were just friends. What would she think if they actually went to a dance together?

Riff wasn’t sure, but he really, really wanted to find out.

“I’ll see you around,” Graziella said then, breaking Riff from his thoughts.

Riff and Roxie sat up to attention and watched as Graziella walked by Tony and headed towards the front door of Doc’s. As she passed by their table, she shot the pair a small smile.

Once she was out the door, their heads snapped back over to Tony, who was approaching them.

“Well, what happened?” Roxie inquired quickly.

“Spill it, pal,” Riff added, “Did she say she’d go with ya?”

Tony attempted to put on a poker face, trying to capitalize on his friend’s obvious interest in his predicament. However, his facade didn’t last for too long.

He smiled, and Riff instantly knew that victory was his.

“Let’s just say I ain’t goin’ stag to the dance,” Tony said.

Riff didn’t look at Roxie, but he could sense her disappointment from across the table without having to do so. Instead, he rose from his seat and clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Good for you, Buddy Boy,” Riff praised genuinely. “Me and Roxie here will see you two there.”

Tony looked between the two of them in bewilderment. “Really?”

Riff nodded with a bright smile and Roxie covered her face with her hands.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Riff said. He looked back at Roxie with a smirk. “We’ll all have a great evenin’, won’t we, Roxie?”

Roxie dropped her hands from her face and sighed. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll have a splendid time…”

Though she sounded decently annoyed, the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her words.

…

Riff won that bet. Though he was satisfied with the victory, he wasn’t above being a gracious winner and making sure Roxie didn’t have too terrible of a time at the dance.

She probably wasn’t going to make that task easy for him, though.

————————————————————————————

Riff couldn’t believe it.

He was having true, honest to God fun with Roxie at the dance.

Fun. With Roxie.

… Do I got a fever or somethin’?

One could never be too sure. They’d been dancing up a storm, and had already visited the punch table twice to quench their thirst and attempt to cool down. It was quite possible that the heat was really starting to get to Riff.

However, the longer the night went on, the more that Riff began to believe that perhaps that wasn’t the case.

“Ready to get back out there?”

Roxie’s question pulled Riff from his thoughts.

Riff sat down his empty glass on the table behind him and immediately offered her an arm chivalrous arm to escort her back onto the dance floor.

Throughout the night, Tony and Graziella had never been too far away from them. In fact, Riff and Roxie had accidentally bumped into them a couple of times while dancing. They seemed extremely keen on each other, and from Riff’s point of view, they were getting along well… really well. Riff felt fairly confident that he would be seeing Graziella again.

Riff felt happy for Tony, but he was quickly learning, much to his surprise, that his date wasn’t too shabby either.

Roxie was able to keep up with him the entire evening, in both dancing and talking. Riff would twirl her one moment, and in the next she’d quip back something smart in response to a snide comment he’d made.

“Is he watching?” Roxie asked Riff quietly once the pair had begun dancing to the band’s lively song once again.

As Riff spun around in time to the music, his eyes scanned the periphery to the “he” Roxie was referring to.

“He”- Lawrence Anderson- was standing off to the side of the dance floor with his hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his pants. His date, a girl Riff recognized from around school but did not know, sat on the bleachers nearby. Her elbow was propped up on her knee, and she rested her hand on her palm. She was clearly bored, despite all the flashy decorations and lively music. Lawrence, on the other hand, kept looking at Riff and Roxie with undeniable envy painted plainly across his face.

Riff could hardly blame the guy. In his most definitely un-biased opinion, Lawrence Anderson had made a huge mistake by not asking Roxie to the dance.

Her hair was starting to fall a bit, and there was a small sheen of perspiration over her face, but Roxie still looked stunning. Her royal blue dress made her stand out among the rest of the girls. She wasn’t the most graceful dancer, but she knew her right foot from her left, and the sparkling smile she wore on her face throughout would distract anyone watching from detecting any missteps. Even if Riff hadn’t immediately searched for her whenever they got separated for more than a few seconds throughout the night, he doubted he would’ve been able to keep his eyes off of her.

He could tell that a few of the other guys at the dance were thinking along the same lines. Every time they had taken a break to grab some punch, Riff could practically feel their anxious energy nearby, just itching for the chance to sneak in while Riff was distracted and ask Roxie if they could steal a dance with her. One guy had even been so bold as to ask her directly, but Roxie had come up with some excuse about powdering her nose. Once he had walked away, Roxie had turned to Riff expectantly and asked him whether he was ready to go out on to the dance floor again.

At least Riff hadn’t hogged her for the entire evening. He had happily stepped aside when Roxie decided to share a quick dance with Tony, and then Diesel. Graziella and Velma had been fine partners for a song or two.

Since Roxie had been willing to swap partners with certain people, but not others, and had yet to ask him, it seemed that Lawrence Anderson fell further into the clutches of the green-eyed monster.

“He is,” Riff confirmed, unable to keep himself from smirking at Lawrence’s jealousy.

Snooze, ya loose, pal.

Roxie laughed once, but whether it was from the speed with which Riff suddenly twirled her, or from Riff’s confirmation of her suspicions, he was unsure.

“I hope he eats his heart out,” Roxie replied half-seriously as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

Me too.

Riff smiled conspiratorially as he lifted her off the ground. As he gently set her back down on the wooden floor, he chuckled, mostly to himself. “Watch out, Roxie- them ain’t words for a proper young lady.”

“Please,” Roxie scoffed. “I’m far from a proper young lady, and I doubt you’d want to be seen with one.”

Riff wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by his words, and as such, he didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he changed the subject. “Ya know, I kinda like this side of Roxie.”

Roxie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitching suggested she wasn’t truly offended. “The vindictive one?”

“No- the feisty one.”

Roxie paused and dropped her hands from Riff’s as the song ended. She looked at him with an odd twinkle in her eye that Riff couldn’t quite pinpoint.

…

Had he been reading her thoughts and actions throughout the entire evening incorrectly? Though it was clear to Riff that he had been having a blast, perhaps Roxie had not been having nearly as much fun as him.

The beginning notes of a much slower song fluttered through the air. Riff looked away from Roxie and began to walk off the dance floor.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

Riff froze in his tracks immediately, and turned to look at her with a sheepish look. “Thought ya might wanna take another break, since this song is… ya know.” His hands gestured to the air around them for emphasis.

Roxie looked at him oddly for a moment, before she smiled softly. “I don’t mind… if you don’t either, of course.”

“Who, me? Nah,” Riff replied quickly, trying to be as cool as a cucumber. Or, perhaps, at least as cool as Ice would have been in his shoes.

He walked back up to her, and forced himself not to pay any mind to the awkward moment that ensued as the pair silently tried to gauge what stance the other was comfortable with. Eventually, they wordlessly decided to take one hand in the others, with Roxie’s spare hand on Riff’s shoulder, and his spare hand on her waist.

The sweet, steady tune of the song coming from the band continued to weave through the air around the couples on the dance floor.

Riff tried to focus on the beat as he and Roxie gently swayed along. Roxie seemed a bit stiffer in her movements than she had been the entire night so far, which suggested to Riff that she was feeling at least a little bit awkward as well.

Suddenly, Roxie yawned.

Any and all uncomfortable tension was shattered immediately, and Riff barked out a laugh. A few couples nearby them gave them dirty looks, but neither paid them any mind.

“Sorry,” Roxie mumbled, her face growing slightly red. “I didn’t realize how tired I am.”

“It’s fine,” Riff assured her quickly and honestly.

Still, Roxie’s face was red. She leaned closer to him, and hid her face in his dress shirt and jacket.

Riff was initially taken aback by her action. He froze, and looked down at the top of her head. However, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t necessarily mind her forwardness. He relaxed, and moved his free hand from her waist to the small of the back, silently communicating that he did not find her gesture invasive.

Riff spotted Tony and Graziella out of the corner of his eye. He dared to look across the room, several yards away to meet Tony’s inquisitive gaze.

Tony and Graziella were swaying just as close, if not closer, than Riff and Roxie were at that moment. They seemed comfortable in each other’s presence. If Riff wasn’t feeling slightly in shock of the turn of events he had been experiencing with Roxie that evening, he most definitely would’ve teased Tony for getting mighty friendly with Graziella. 

But since Tony was the one who was feeling relatively at ease, he beat Riff to the punch. He gave Riff a knowing smirk as his eyes flicked between him and Roxie.

Riff would’ve flipped him off good-heartedly, but he chose to let Tony’s non-verbal teasing slide. He leaned forward, and lightly rested his chin upon Roxie’s head, mindful to not actually let her bare any of the weight.

Once the dance had ended, and the gym began to clear out, Tony and Graziella bid them both a goodnight, before heading off to who knew where. But, if Riff had to guess, Tony’s apartment wouldn’t have been that far out of the realm of possibility.

Once the lovey-dovey couple was out of sight, Riff and Roxie turned to one another. The pair quickly and mutually decided that neither of them were quite ready to return to their respective homes.

Hand in hand, the pair made their way down the street lamp lit sidewalks until the abandoned pier came into view.

Tony had discovered the tear in the fence that surrounded the abandoned pier a few months back, and had since shown it to Riff, and then to Roxie. It was the first time that either of them had come to the condemned place without Tony, but if Riff had to guess, Tony wouldn’t be too upset with them in light of the circumstances.

Riff watched Roxie carefully as they stepped onto the old wooden planks. He readied himself to jump to action at a moment’s notice as he watched her take light, slow steps across the decaying wood. “Take it easy, now.”

Roxie snickered, turned, and looked down at Riff’s feet. “I could say the same for you.”

Riff looked down at his feet as well, and immediately spotted a large hole across several planks of wood right in front of him, just inches from his shoes. In his concern for Roxie, he’d almost walked right into it. Riff doubted he would’ve fallen into the water below- more than likely, he would’ve scraped up his legs a bit, but ultimately caught himself- but his near blunder was still one worth noting.

Riff sidestepped around the hole and took a few long strides to keep in pace with Roxie, who was making her way towards the edge of the pier. The closer she grew to the edge, the more anxious Riff became. Fortunately, before she reached the drop off, Roxie turned, and hopped up onto a nearby large crate to take a seat. Her legs swung lightly in the air as she patted the space on the crate beside her and beamed over at Riff invitingly.

Riff didn’t have to be told twice. He walked over, climbed up, and sat down slowly and carefully beside her. It was quiet for a few moments, and Riff looked down at his shoes as he pondered whether to say anything at all, or let the silence fester between them.

By the time he looked back up at Roxie, Riff realized she was no longer looking at him. Instead, her head was turned, and she was looking out over the water beside them. Riff could only catch a sliver of her face from his current angle, but what he could see was illuminated by the moon overhead.

Riff reached into his pockets to withdraw his box of cigarettes and lighter he’d grabbed on a hunch earlier that evening, right before he left his uncle’s apartment. In all honesty, Riff had grabbed the items in anticipation of having a stressful evening, and he had wanted a legitimate excuse to give himself a little break from Roxie if need be. But now, he was starting to feel relaxed for the first time in a few hours. And instead of needing a cigarette to calm his nerves, he simply wanted one to help keep him at ease and soothe his rapidly beating heart.

As the cigarette was lit, Roxie turned to him.

“What’re you doing?”

Even though Riff had yet to take a drag of the cigarette, he held it out to her. “Want a drag?”

Riff suspected that Roxie had never smoked before. Though she had been around him and Tony when they’d been smoking before, she had never partaken in the activity herself. And now, looking at Roxie’s uncertain eyes, Riff knew that his suspicions were confirmed.

In a move that surprised him, Roxie shrugged and took the cigarette from his hand gently.

Riff watched her amusedly as she looked at the cigarette, as if contemplating what to do with it, or whether to do anything with it at all. Finally, she put the cigarette to her lips hesitantly, before attempting to take a slow drag.

She grimaced, pulled the stick from between her lips, and launched herself into a coughing fit.

Despite the very small inkling of concern he had for her in that moment, Riff let out a few hearty laughs. His well-practiced hands lightly took the cigarette from her inexperienced ones so that no ash would inadvertently fall onto her dress.

He continued to hold the cigarette between his fingers as he watched her coughing fit sizzle out and eventually cease. “Ya good?” he asked, only half-jokingly.

Roxie nodded, but her eyes still looked a bit strained and watery. “How the hell do you and Tony smoke those things?” she asked incredulously, her voice still a bit hoarse.

“Ya get used to it,” Riff mumbled, shrugging nonchalantly as he finally put the cigarette to his lips and took a drag.

“Maybe that’s it… or maybe you and Tony are already so full of smoke, it doesn’t bother either of you.”

Riff smirked and watched her out of the corner of his eyes as he exhaled smoke.

“Can I tell you something?”

Riff flicked away some ash. “Shoot.”

“I’m glad I lost that bet.”

Riff’s head rolled from one shoulder to the other as he looked over at her. His eyes scanned her face, desperately searching for some sort of indication that she was joking or that her words were anything less than genuine.

He found nothing that indicated as such.

“Ya tellin’ me ya actually enjoyed goin’ to the dance with a Riff-raff like me?” Riff asked jokingly. “What’s your aunt gonna think when ya tell her ya didn’t have a terrible time?”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” Roxie snapped. She cleared her throat, and continued, much more quietly. “Sometimes I think she’d be happy locking me up in my room and never letting me leave again.”

Riff didn’t doubt that. Her aunt had never been fond of him, or Tony. Hell, from what Roxie had told him, the woman apparently didn’t even like Velma that much, and Velma was just about one of the nicest girls from the neighborhood. The mental image of her aunt’s concerned and almost disgusted look as she opened the door when he swung by the apartment to pick up Roxie earlier that evening would stick with Riff for quite a while.

The West Side wasn’t a playground by any means, but they were all getting to the age where being kept inside the house all day would be hindering their social skills, not to mention detrimental to any sort of social life they might hope to have. For Riff, Tony, and the rest of the Jets, that was hardly a concern. There was no one who could force them to stay inside against their will, and if there was, they weren’t worth listening to. But for Roxie, and for Velma, who still had involved parental figures in their lives, it could start to become a serious problem.

“I hope you didn’t take her comments about your jacket too seriously,” Roxie added after a few moments of quiet. “... I think you look really nice.”

Riff hadn’t let her aunt’s rude words bother him at all. In fact, he had forgotten that she had uttered such a thing that was meant to make him feel inferior until Roxie had brought it up. Riff was far more interested in Roxie’s compliment than he ever would be in her aunt’s insult.

“Thanks,” he replied, fighting through the awkwardness that was beginning to cloud over him. “... You look stunnin’ yourself.”

Riff quickly took another drag of his cigarette to give himself something else to focus on other than Roxie after his rushed admittance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw Roxie smile.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as Riff continued to smoke his cigarette. In the silence, Riff’s thoughts had a mind of their own, and they dared to wonder…

How on earth could this be the same girl who had a habit of making him feel like hypothetically smacking his head against a wall?

Roxie had been getting on his nerves in general for several weeks now. But in the context of that evening, when Riff was actually open to the idea, he was beginning to find the qualities about her that had once used to infuriate him now made her all the more endearing to him.

He had yet to admit it, but her poker skills had impressed him. He’d been genuinely concerned for her wellbeing throughout their evening at the gambling house. And that night at the dance, he felt happy sharing in her the joy upon realizing that Lawrence Anderson had truly missed out on a great date, not to mention some one on one time with one of the best girls to ever come out of the West Side.

Somehow, someway, and definitely without Riff’s knowledge, Roxie had gone and found a way to get under Riff’s skin. That much he knew for certain, and it simply was not up for debate. 

Riff wasn’t sure quite what that meant for him, or for the state of his friendship- relationship?- with Roxie, but he was willing to find out. Roxie was a challenge, and Riff had never been one to shy away from challenges.

Riff finished his cigarette, extinguished it, and flicked it away. He hopped down from the crate unceremoniously and turned back around to face Roxie. “It’s startin’ to get late…We oughta get goin’ before your aunt hunts us down.”

Roxie nodded, and glanced down at the floor of the pier below. It hadn’t been too far of a drop for Riff, but for Roxie, who was wearing heels, it very well may have been another story.

Riff noticed her reluctance, and slowly extended his hands out to her. “Come on- I’ll help ya down.”

Though she initially showed even more hesitance to his request, eventually Roxie placed two hands on his shoulders, and scooted closer to the edge of the crate. On the count of three, she hopped down, and with Riff’s hands on her waist, he caught her and gently placed her down onto the wooden floor.

Even though she was safely on her own two feet, Roxie’s hands remained on Riff’s shoulders.

“Ya alright?” Riff asked her, dropping his hands from her waist as he glanced her up and down and checked for any signs of injury.

Maybe I didn’t set her down as lightly as I thought…

Roxie merely nodded again, and her hands remained where they were. Riff looked back up at her face curiously, and was met with her piercing gaze. There was a look on her face that he couldn’t quite place, but the seriousness of whatever was on her mind captivated Riff nonetheless. Without realizing it, he leaned towards her as he waited for her next words.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Absolutely,” Riff breathed, not missing a beat.

“I want to try something,” Roxie confessed, suddenly timid. “If you’re alright with what it is, you have to admit it.”

Riff blinked, not having a single clue about what Roxie was talking about. Still he nodded, clinging on to every single word she said, much like Graziella had done to Tony.

Oh, how the tables have turned…

“If you’re not alright with it, I’ll never do it or bring it up again.”

Despite being no clearer on what Roxie was planning to do in just a few seconds, Riff whispered, “Deal.”

The pair looked deep into each other’s eyes until Roxie’s trailed down to his lips. A wave of realization crashed over Riff as he realized what she was about to do as it was happening.

He remained still as Roxie stood up on her toes, and by using her hands that were still on his shoulders as a means of support, pressed a shy, light kiss to his lips. Her movements were slow and hesitant as she tested the waters. She was so gentle, it was almost as though she was afraid that any sudden or harsh movements would break him.

Instinctively, Riff’s eyes closed as he lost himself in the moment.

… Holy-

It wasn’t Riff’s first kiss, but the feeling that overcame him had him wishing that it was. It certainly felt like it.

Roxie pulled away, rolled back onto her heels a moment later - too soon- and looked at him apprehensively. She bit her lip before she asked, “... Was that okay?”

Though it wasn’t his, if Riff had to guess, it had been Roxie’s first kiss. And she had been the one to initiate it! It baffled him that this girl, who he could’ve sworn he knew all there was to be known about her, still found ways to completely throw him for a loop. Almost as much as it baffled him that she had wanted to kiss him. Him- of all people!

Though he was in a state of shock, Riff had enough milliseconds of clarity to know that there was no going back from that point… at least not for him. Even if Riff had told Roxie that he hadn’t been alright with her forwardness- which would’ve been a blatant lie- he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget the feeling of her lips on his. He didn’t want to forget it.

Her kiss changed everything. It put all of the mixed feelings that he’d been having about her over the past few weeks into an incredibly enlightened perspective. Suddenly, it all made sense- why Roxie’s behavior, which really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, had been bothering him so much as of late.

Riff wasn’t used to having or wanting to have the patience to see girls who were able to go toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye with him in anything other than a platonic light.

… He hadn’t anticipated himself seeing Roxie in anything other than a platonic light.

But the feelings he felt brewing inside him at the thought of her, at the thought of them in that moment as they stood on the pier, alone, underneath the moonlight and the stars, so close that their noses nearly touched, were anything but platonic.

…

It was almost funny, in an ironic way- the answer to his source of frustration had been right there, in front of his face all along.

He’d met his match.

Throughout Riff’s epiphanic musings, he had neglected to acknowledge Roxie, who remained frozen in place, watching him with bated breath and constantly shifting, anxious eyes.

Misreading his lack of response as rejection, Roxie took her hands off his shoulders and turned away.

“Wait,” Riff whispered in a hushed tone, mentally kicking himself for not reacting soon.

Thankfully, Roxie stopped, although she slowly lifted her head to give him a look that made it clear to Riff that she had not ruled out possible rejection on his part. She looked downright fearful as she nervously waited for him to continue.

Unsure how else to convince Roxie that she had not crossed a line, Riff leaned down and kissed her again without a second thought.

This time, their kiss lasted longer as the two became entranced in one another. The pair only pulled away when the need for air outweighed their increasing desire to continue.

Riff looked down at Roxie, and gave her a giddy smile so wide that his cheeks protested at the unfamiliar expression. The kisses were a little awkward, and maybe even a little bit messy, but they’d left Riff breathless regardless. And, judging by Roxie’s wide eyes and slightly heaving chest, Roxie felt the same.

“That was more than okay,” Riff promised her, still a little winded. Once he could tell she was receptive and welcoming to his actions, he placed his hands on her waist once again for further emphasis of his point.

Filled with a new surge of confidence from his reassurance, Roxie smiled radiantly, and reached up over his shoulders to intertwine her fingers behind his head. Her fingers were cold on the back of his neck, but they offered a pleasant contrast to the heat quickly rising upon Riff’s face.

He silently thanked whoever was watching up above that it was dark out, and that Roxie wouldn’t see. However, had there been any light, Riff would’ve been surprised to learn that Roxie’s face was growing just as red as his own.

He slowly pulled her closer to him, and they kissed again, fueled by the excitement that seemed to accompany any new, young romantic pursuits. 

They were equally determined to make the most of the quiet moments between them that followed, before reality came crashing down upon them and they each had to return home.

…

Technically, Riff lost the bet with Roxie that night. But, when all was said and done, he learned an important life lesson instead.

Not all bets were worth winning.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. If you would like to be added to the taglist, just reach out.😊

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[fakecrfan]

Since you very nicely offered to write me a fic:

Your prompt is: A story about a background character or characters dealing with life after the TMA apocalypse.

It can be set in the OG TMA universe in the post-post-apocalypse, or it can also be set in a different universe that was affected by the events of MAG 200.

Both OCs and characters established in-show are allowed.

This one aligned so well with my interests that I am actually tempted to open my inbox, briefly, in case anyone else has questions like “what is X bavjground character doing after the apocalypse?” so I can make a series out of it and expand on my post-post-apocalypse headcanons.

For now, you can read your fic here, on over here on AO3

---

Sarah doesn't know where she is.

England, she has to still be in England, she thinks. But it's not an England she recognizes. Not the cobblestone streets of London, and not the moors she used to visit on her vacations. The ground is barren, as though all blades of grass but a few have shriveled up and died. There are no trees, houses, or landmarks for miles--just scorched remnants of where they might have been before.

For a moment, the emptiness of it all is a relief after the hotel. But everything is the same on all sides, and she doesn't know where she is or where to go. She's starting to get hungry, too. She never got hungry in the hotel, nightmarish as it was.

She has to sit down for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and think.

Get food. Find shelter. Survive.

Find Alex.

(God, why had she left her child in a hotel room? Little twelve year old Alex who was still afraid to sleep without a night light. He'd begged her to stay, she should have--)

With that in mind she gets up. Doesn't know what direction to walk in, so she doesn't concern herself with trying to pick one. There's nothing to do but walk, keep her eyes open, and hope.

So she hopes.

---

None of our old maps match the landscape, anymore.

The world these days it's... not like in the before times, as I suppose we're calling it. Despite our hopes, ending the apocalypse wasn’t like everyone waking up from a nightmare. The land is...

It's scrambled, I guess. There are patches of the world that--well. They're not the same, but still have infrastructure intact. Electricity, running water, air conditioning. No scorched earth or rubble in these areas. Just a bunch of traumatized people living in an intact town, or city.

When I talk to them, they tell me it's not the city they remember, though. Everything has been switched around, houses and stores not where they remember them. Their neighbors aren't the neighbors their remember.

Those are the lucky ones. And then there's, well... the outside.

Some places have rubble everywhere, jagged steel ripped apart and waiting for someone to cut themselves on it. Some are frozen over, still waiting for the ice they were frozen over with in the apocalypse to melt. Some are scorched to dust. No phones out there, or anything that lets you connect back with home base.

I'm going out there. We need to map it out. We need to figure out our new world, understand it--and we need to get as many people out of the wastes as possible.

Melanie, Georgie--I’ll see you soon.

---

Sarah does find water. That's something. She's hungry still, so hungry, but she knows that the water is more important.

She wonders if she should stay there. She doesn't know if there will be more watering holes in the future, after all, and she has no way to carry it with her. She decides to keep moving on, and hope for the best.

She starts to see blades of grass poking up, along with some sort of metal crap strewn about the landscape. She looks at them a moment--it seems to be bits of an old carousel? Eventually, a giant sit in their shade, for a while. There she takes a moment to look at the horizon, and goes cold.

She recognizes the tower on the horizon.

A  scaffolded tower with two legs beneath it. A sight she'd last seen on a postcard from her brother. The Eiffel Tower.

Is she in Paris? No, that can't be it. It's just the tower out here in the wastes. There are none of the buildings that would normally surround it. It's almost as though its been ripped out of the city and transported here.

Does Paris even exist anymore? Does London?

If she even finds Alex, will there be a home for them to go back to?

---

I have a theory, Melanie. I think lots of people got transported to different places in the world based on what fear they belonged to. Like, a bunch of lonely people were put in the same place, a bunch of claustrophobic people were put in the same place, and so on. All away from the people they knew.

I’m in one of the suburban safe areas now. No one here knows each other. I talked to them all, and all of them remember living in the same house before, but none of them recognized the houses near them or the people in them. When I went from house to house, everyone had a different native language. I talked to a German guy and a French guy who spoke English, but a lot of them… couldn’t talk to me at all.

There was a woman who--she saw me and she lit up. She grabbed me and started talking a mile a minute in Arabic, I think. But I couldn’t understand her, and she--when I tried to talk back to her in English, her face just. Fell. And then she started to cry.

My dad refused to speak it at home, you know. He-- Actually, never mind. It’s not important. 

She ended up shoving me away.

---

Sarah makes it to the ruins of a forest. 

There’s nothing but stumps left of it, along with litter everywhere. She finds water again, filthy brackish water, and she drinks it anyway because she’s so thirsty. She starts sifting through all of the garbage strewn about for something edible. She finds stale bread crusts crawling with ant and eats them anyway. 

She finds a can of beans, and almost cries. When she can’t find a can opener, she screams instead.

---

The death count has gotten to me, honestly.

I’ve found dead bodies even in the towns and cities. Some looked like heart attacks. Some suicides. People who woke up but couldn’t bear the agony they’d just gone through. That’s still not… the worst of it.

I passed a whole field of dead bodies today.

Hundreds of people, I think, all of them lying dead in the soil. But there were... trails. They had been walking, before they collapsed. All walking in the same direction, to where you can still see London on the horizon.

They were alive. They were trying to get help. And they just... starved, it looks like. The walk was just too long.

How many people are going to die from it all, Melanie? How many already have, out where we can't see them?

I left as many jugs of clean water and rations along the roads as I could. I put up signs pointing to London, saying how many miles out they were, where I had stashed food. I gave them your number, so they know who to call to get to the shelter.

I hope it means the next group that passes by won't die.

I hope there is a next group.

---

Sarah can see what looks like a city in the distance before she collapses. 

She tries to get up, but can’t. She’s been walking for days now, it feels like, only sporadically drinking and almost never eating.  There just isn’t enough energy left in her to stand.

She tries to think about little Alex again, running around in his Batman cape, hoping some kind of love or maternal instinct will kick in and give her the last burst of adrenaline she needs to get up. It doesn’t work. Maybe she doesn’t love her own son anymore, really. Maybe it’s just been fear and guilt driving her this far, and that source has already been wrung dry. 

She manages to crawl a few feet, before she can’t even do that. With nothing else left to do, she starts to cry out. “Help! Water, please!” 

She doesn’t think anyone will hear, or show up. But against all odds, in her dimming vision she sees a figure come into view. Backpacked, clutching a water bottle. 

“Help,” she croaks out again. 

The figure gets closer, and she starts to be able to make out the details of his face. He’s her age, or older, with worry lines carved into his forehead and wide eyes. His nose looks eerily like her brother’s nose, and the shape of his jaw reminds her of her old boyfriend, the one who left her with--

She blinks. Maybe she’s hallucinating, or maybe she’s somehow run into a long lost cousin. But then, the man’s eye’s widen and his mouth opens.

“Mum?”

No, no it can’t…

“A-alex?”

No, Alex was a little round cheeked boy. This is a thirty year old man, at least, taller than her. It hasn’t been that long. It can’t be, it’s not--

“Mum?” He’s doing a frown that looks so, so familiar. This has to be a dream. “Mum, it’s--no.”

He sniffles. He steps forward, and steps back. He paces, uncertain.

“No, no,” she hears him mutter. “It’s all fake, all fake. It’s a trap. That’s what they want, the monsters and the face stealers. No one is real. Don’t give them what they want--’’

“Please.” she begs. 

But she hears him walk away, sniffling, and shortly thereafter everything goes dark. 

---

I have a confession to make, Melanie. I was going to side with Jon, back then. I could have lived with keeping everyone here suffering to prevent more of it. But when he said he was going to kill the whole world, not just leave it--that’s what made me snap. 

I couldn’t let the whole world die. Genocide of the entire human species? Anything but that. Surely passing along the suffering would be better, as long as it didn’t lead to the extinction of whole worlds. But… 

I keep finding more dead bodies.

I went back to that suburb I talked about, to restock on all my food. It was a lonely domain before, I think. I’d thought everyone there would be fine, you know. They didn’t have any deadly sicknesses, or twisted flesh injuries. They had food and water and shelter. But when I went back… more of them had died. 

Lots of suicides. Some of them snapped, and started to self injure.

The German guy I talked to had started to starve. He had a pantry full of food and he just wouldn’t eat it. I tried to get him to eat, to move in with someone else, but he said talking to people “made him sick.” 

I gave up, and left. I had to. There were too many people, and too much to do, so I left him. He’s probably dead now, or going to die soon. Because he can’t find the will to live, and I don’t know how to help someone with that.

The Lonely is probably one of the least directly harmful entities, right? This domain was just a suburb, probably the most comfortable you could get during the apocalypse. And yet the victims are still all dying. 

How much worse is it in places without food and water? In the corruption domains that still probably have deadly diseases spreading? In war zones, in flesh factories?

I think about that nursing home we found. All of the patients who'd died of heart attacks a few minutes after they'd woken up. The ones left alive screaming for help where no one could hear them, for days after the fact. All of the ones that died in their beds before we found them. 

I think about that field of bodies I found the other day. I think about the ruins of that Circus I found, people refusing to talk to me or each other--refusing to help because they didn’t believe it was over and thought everyone else was a mannequin. 

I think… I think it doesn’t matter that we saved the world. If people can’t find the will to live, ro rebuild, to trust and help each other again… I think we’re going through a mass extinction event anyway. 

---

Sarah’s in a car, she thinks. Not a moving one. She’s propped up against a seat,There’s something plastic pressed to her lips.

“Come on,” says a woman’s deep, level voice. “Come on. I got you. We’re getting to London. All you have to do is drink.”

Sarah opens her eyes. She sees a dark-skinned woman trying to coax her to drink, holding up a water bottle. 

“Just a sip,” the woman says. “Just enough to make it.”

Sarah closes her eyes, and takes a long moment to consider whether she wants to.

[haliyam]

interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

--

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you. 

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest. 

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat. 

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale. 

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard. 

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!” 

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.” 

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear. 

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you. 

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard. 

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—” 

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?” 

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes. 

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?” 

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear. 

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

--

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside. 

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.” 

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name. 

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs. 

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager. 

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs. 

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak. 

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are. 

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration. 

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes. 

“Night, Lucy.”

--

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?” 

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you. 

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

--

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading! 

[genshin-obsessed]

hi pocket! moth here, and as promised, i'm giving you word after word after word after word....

i got cicada to type some stuff down too since he also wanted to send something to you in congratulations!! <3 <3

----moth

congratulations on 6k! you're really rad and i genuinely think that you deserve all this support and love, it's just really nice to see that you've progressed so quickly and smoothly! you've put a ton of effort into things your write, your events, everything! your interactions with your anons are just so nice, and that's all because you're an amazing person!

when i joined the genshin fandom, you were one of the first blogs that i had run into, and that's pretty neat. at first, i didn't follow you, since i wasn't really used to your writing. but as i kept on encountering your works, i eventually grew accustomed to it- and i like your writing style! v swag :)

your oc, toxin, is just- perfection. i like the whole background thing, powers, but the fic i liked the most was the one where toxin attempts to poison you. my imagination can just run wild from there, picturing out what the character did after running out to go after toxin, but for zhongli's case how he took care of you + what he did after.

you, pocket, are a wonderful person- if you receive hate, you don't deserve it! 6000 seems like a large accomplishment, and it must've felt really nice to hit that number. a great person like you deserves the world, but the world may not deserve you. your presence alone on tumblr is practically a blessing, and i'm grateful for everything that you've wrote! not only that, but you've helped me become bolder and interact off anon. i think that's pretty neat, genuinely.

i'm sure many others think the same: ilysm(/p) pocket! even if i fall out of the genshin fandom(which i most likely won't bc of XIAOOOOOOOOOOOO <3 <3 <3 <3), i'll still revisit your blog. reading over your works always makes me crack a smile, whether it's angsty or not. your ability to write is amazing, and some of your works had even inspired a few of mine!

a collab with a person like you is like a dream come true. i look forwards to future interactions, and hopefully they're all positive! i support you no matter what, and you can't change that, hehe.

-your local xiao simp,

moth.

----cicada

hello, i believe you've never interacted or heard of me before? i go by cicada online, a friend that appears on moth's blog every now and then. they told me about your 6k followers, and i think that's pretty neat. to be honest when you told moth that you'd do a collab with them i was happy they chose you, since you're a really good person. pocket, thank you so much for everything you've done for me, moth, all of us- i cannot express my gratitude towards you, and i am proud of that because i can usually express my gratitude to others within words. however, since my gratitude towards you is off the charts, i cannot form it in words. regarding the collab, i will attempt to help moth with angst, however my help might not be needed. i thank you deeply, for fueling my everyday energy to get up. reading through your works gives me so much serotonin, and i appreciate that greatly. have a good day or night, perhaps afternoon, mx. pocket.

-cicada.

----any last words before we go sleep?

moth - ily, pocket! /p

cicada - thank you, congratulations. (note: get your well deserved rest, pocket.)

----goodnight, good morning, good afternoon wherever you are ! !

ok so like i genuinely started crying at this and I don't normally get very emotional. You both left me speechless, so that's one of the reasons why I'm taking so long to respond T^T

I'll split my response here to the both of you!

its kinda long- sorry xD also can I just call yall "the bugs" cuz its just so cute ;-; your names are adorable-

Moth, you are such a sweetheart. Like I said earlier, I'm not someone who gets very emotional! But your words brought tears to my eyes (tears of joy ofc) and it took me a while to respond because every time I saw what you'd written, I'd just have this giant smile on my face. I'm really glad you chose to follow me and I'm so happy you chose to talk to me! I always try to be fun and welcoming so that people who do wanna interact can do so, but I get it, there are so many people here it can get daunting.

But I'm glad you reached out! I'm so happy to have a friend like you! Ima be honest, the first few times you sent something in off anon, I was like "o.o they forgot anon-" BUT NOW LOOK AT YOU! Thank you, I really appreciate it. I'm actually pretty self-conscious about my writing but I try to do my best and post- even though I don't like what I've written, so your words really do help me! You're the type of reader every writer wants. Seriously!!

Ah, Toxin! Yes, I've had her as an oc for such a long time and then I finally perfected her! She's been in so many fics of mine and she's finally getting the recognition she deserves!! I'm glad you enjoyed that fic, it's one of my faves! I planned to do a p2 with some other characters but held off cuz I thought people would get bored- yet here you are, sparking my will to write it again!

I still can't believe I hit 6k! Honestly, that's so many people!! and they all like me and my stuff!! it's really hard to believe- there are days I think its a dream >.< silly, I know xD actually, when I first joined tumblr, it was because of BNHA and I saw this writer who had 10k followers at the time and I just was like "that's not even possible" yet here I am- 4k away T^T

I genuinely hope Xiao keeps you here, but if you have to leave for another fandom that's ok too! I can only hope we'll meet once again there too! I think some people in life are meant to be friends and are just meant to know each other! And I'll hope you're one of them! Cuz you're one of the awesomest friends I've had and I love you as well (/p)!! <333

-

Cicada, omg haiii!! I've heard very little about you since Moth took FOREVER to tell me there's another writer hidden back there!! I'm glad I got a chance to talk to you, even if it's like this! I'm not sure how much you know about me >.< seems like a lot so I'm sorry that I don't know that much about you!

Thank you so much, you're so very sweet and I can't express how happy your words made me. For a long time now, I always wake up and wonder how I can make my friends smile or laugh, and now that's extended to this blog. To hear how happy my writing makes people brings me so much joy that even I can't express it. I know there are many people out there who have lots of things to deal with in life and to know that my writing's helping them through that fuels me to write more!

I'm so glad I can do the same for you! We may not know each other- or maybe it's mostly on my end- but I still want to make you smile! I want to make everyone who stumbles upon my blog smile as well! Life can get hard and it feels so impossible sometimes but if I can give someone the energy to go on, then I'm pretty content with my own! Thank you for reading my works and thank you for telling me this because it really did make me happy.

Aw, thank you, I hope it's not too much! Though I specialize in angst (at least, I like to think so), I wanted to give Moth the opportunity to try! I'll do my best to make the fluffiest fluffing comfort you've ever seen!! Or uh something like that ^w^"

I really do hope that you and I can talk more so I can get to know you! Oh! And that google form- it was super adorable ^w^

-

You two are too kind and you best believe I'm saving this lil ask <3 you both very well made my entire week (along with that meme anon with those cute memes) and I'm sending you both hugs!! or cookies ^w^ whichever you prefer!

Also, it was nighttime when you sent this and now its 3am >///< i need sleep-

[sparklingpax]

Sweet Bother, That’s What You Are

A.N: 

(starring my two TFP OCs, Paxie and Sharpflint, who will be getting sketch posts um.........eventually o///o’’)

-HIIIIII So. Potentially the first of many drabbles with these two <3 There’s no official story story, really....just whatever comes to mind if I feel like writing it! ^w^

-I actually managed to find the first time I did a drabble for them, idk, kinda dumb, but thought I’d link in case you were interested ^^’’ 

-This one’s kinda dumb too I apologize but I wanted to write it so

-Sorry for grammar, punctuation, word usage, spelling, etc mistakes......it’s late and I’m falling asleep and my brain is on Full Sunshine Happy Things mode so I’m just trying to dump all that into this story >:3 

-What planet are they on that has metallic trees and rocks?? uM?? uh--ok well,,,,,,same planet as the last one sorry I’m not very creative idk why I need so many trees for my writing anyway lmfao akjdjsd

-So when is this set then?? Ok so. After the war; in this universe here, which is not an au btw (or is it?? idk?? the events are assumed to be exactly the same as prime and other aligned continuity stuff just with these two inserted in the background if that makes any sense at all,,,,) Paxie was from one of the first generations after the war; Sharpflint fought in the war as an Autobot so,,,theres that. 

-May I just note for the record so no one asks or makes assumptions, their relationship is fully inteded to be really good friendship & it’s Not romantic. Sorry if I made it confusing in the writing sdjsdj basically I love writing romantic stuff but for once I want to write a Good Friends dynamic ^w^ hope thats okie!

-Also no Sharpflint is not actually old, he’d be more like a 35-year old and Paxie’s might be 25-ish. If you wanted to visualize it in human years I guess because we’re all........human..? She’s just fooling around 😹✨

-SHOUTOUT TO Y’ALL WHO ENCOURAGED ME TO START POSTING MY DRABBLE IDEAS!! I hope I do not disappoint too much ^^’’ 

-hhhhh & it be Short™ o///o but I hope you like it!!! thanks for reading!!! :)

///

Paxie kicked a stray rock back into its place on the side of the road and pouted. Arms folded behind her back, she did her best to tune out whatever Sharpflint was on about. Why?

“—and Primus fragging heck, Paxie, you know that as your friend—no, respected elder and mentor—I do not want to find your corpse on the side of the highway because you refuse to learn that—”

Yes. That. Because he was lecturing her about how strongly he disagreed with her personal stance in the Natural Form movement. However, she was not truly annoyed at all. It was a peaceful afternoon and she’d managed to convince Sharpflint to ditch patrol to walk with her. 

I’m going to have some fun here--after all, I’m giving up my free day, the one day I don’t have classes!!

Suddenly, one of his words registered in her mind and she got an idea. 

Paxie tapped his arm. He came to a halt alongside her, breaking off abruptly to give her a scathing ‘WHAT.’ However he swallowed that, too when he saw her face.

“You got one thing right, salty engines,” Paxie started, feigning frustration.

Sharpflint narrowed his yellow optics—he absolutely detested that ridiculous nickname.

“Oh?” He muttered back, half annoyed. “Enlighten me.”

Paxie shook her head, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Well, you’re old. But you’re not my mentor—you’re too old to be my mentor. I’d need a spry, young, whippersnapper like myself! In fact—wait—”

She did a shushing motion and looked around. Sharpflint moaned quietly, rolling his eyes hard. He waited for her to continue roasting him.

“Yes…yes, I can hear it!”

He decided to play along, folding his arms as he towered over her. “Hear what, Paxie?”

“Listen!! I can hear the high concentration of salt in your attitude rusting your rotor blades!!”

Frag me, Primus why.

“I can hear it from a mile—”

Sharpflint picked her up, smirking as her words melted into surprised yelping. He hoisted her over his shoulder, gripping her legs as the rest of her body hung over his back, and eyed the tree a small ways ahead of them. His grin grew wider.

“Old, huh?”

“Yes!!” Paxie was laughing now, gasping for air.

“Well, then, I’ll just show you how us elderly were taught to run!”

“FLINT!!!”

He swung her in a circle before racing ahead to the tree, prompting more giggled cries. His eyes glinted while his shorter friend shouted, playfully indignant, and demanded to be put down.

“I’ll snap you in two, you robot stick!!”

“Try it, tiny!! You’d barely leave a scratch!”

“OH—” Paxie narrowed her optics and whacked his green plating, still laughing. “SO SAYS ‘MR. INSULTS ARE RUDE’!! WOW!!”

Sharpflint let out a laugh himself, reaching the tree. Sure I said that, but I never said I couldn’t joke around…

“Hey, what are y—WAHHAHHHHHNOONONO—”

The two mechs had made it to the tree, so Sharpflint naturally tossed Paxie just high enough for her to land in one of the branches. As he’d hoped, she latched on and balled up against the metallic surface, optics wide with shock.

Take that, you adorable little scrap. Sharpflint nodded to himself, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head back to take in the view. Paxie started giggling again, wailing down at him to help her off the branch .

“I’m only as old as the middle of the Great War!”

“You’re a salty, rusty sack of bolts!!”

Sharpflint sighed, turning away. “You and Mr. Tree can keep each other company until I come back here for patrol….” He pretended to think deeply, then calmly finished, “Four days from now.”

“Fine! You’re only as old as the youngest old bot from the war!!”

“Three days.”

“You’re a not-so-old dork!”

“Hmmm….” Sharpflint let the silence sink in, as if he were actually deeply considering her words. Paxie sighed audibly.

“You’re my favorite old dork--the best friend I could ask for!”

At this, Sharpflint turned and regarded her, beaming down at him. He unfolded his arms, chuckling lightly.

“I was going to let you down anyway, you know..” he said a little more quietly, feeling a little warm after her previous comment. The purple-white mech grinned back down at him.

“I know! I just wanted to say!”

Paxie was his closest friend, even if she was young, and didn’t know how bleak life could be—which was half the reason they ever got into fights in the first place anyway. Sometimes it’s hard to see eye-to-eye with someone who’s led a completely different life than your own. Both Sharpflint and Paxie were aware of that.

All that same, she was sunshine and openness.

Paxie was…simply put, a great friend.

Sharpflint cracked a small smile—not a smirk, but a real smile.

“You want to meet again at Silicon’s tonight?”

“Only if you’re paying!”

Sharpflint heaved another sigh, slumping over. Well, what else was to be expected? After all, the helicopter mech had thrown his friend into a tree. He couldn’t say no.

Well, no, he could, really should...but it would be rude—

“Oh, dear Primus,” he murmured under his breath, continuing to gaze up at Paxie, still hugging the tree branch for her dear life.

“Yay!! Silicon’s!!” Paxie cheered like a young sparkling, then cut herself off as her celebratory motions caused the branch to sway a bit too much. 

“Thank goodness for frequent paychecks…”

But above all, thank goodness for friends. Especially the ones that drive a bot nuts. Paxie, I’d give my life for you. 

[serenedash]

I started rambling about my experience with kh and then it turned into khux and then it just turned into me rambling about Ryou and my art journey????? enjoy I guess,

it’s very long but there’s art in there :)

It’s funny to think about my kh journey as a whole tbh, I grew up watching my mom play video games, which included kh1 and 2. I wasn’t allowed to play the playstation2 we owned BUT I did have a gameboy so the first game I played was CoM (after my mom finished it ofc,) so I guess you could say I’ve always been passionate about kh “””side games””” lmao but I did fall off of kh very quickly bc again, I wasn’t allowed to play our PS2 and also I Am A Terrible Gamer I’ve Never Finished CoM I’m sorry you all had to find out like this, but then 358/2 came out when I was in middle school and!!! I didn’t care and I didn’t play idk why lol

Anyway, fast forward to high school I’m like 15 and my older sister, who HAS been keeping up with kh, has a wallpaper on her phone of roxas and ventus. And bc I haven’t kept up I say “nice roxas wallpaper” and she says “thanks but it’s roxas and ventus” and I proceeded to get so mad that I was determined to prove to her that her wallpaper was just roxas twice and then I fell down the BBS rabbit hole and suddenly I was reading about vanitas and then I’m reading the fan translations of the BBS novel and I’m crying??? I am sobbing???? and that’s how I actually got into kh for real lol we are vanitas stans before we are people,

It’s so funny how I thought I was some kh super fan, knowing all this stuff that I spent so long reading and rewatching cutscene movies, but I never once, SOMEHOW NEVER ever came across khx. It’s so absurd and bizarre I seriously have no idea how I never once encountered khx prior to khux. I suppose that has to do with the fact I wasn’t involved in the fandom? In early high school I had stepped away from fandoms as a whole and I didn’t have any interest in really posting content or interacting with fans anymore bc of how burnt out I was from a previous fandom,

but khux released! and I was so hype and excited for it! on launch day I was a senior in high school, I had ran around to every “nerd” and weeb I could find in school to ask them to join my party and fun fact about me is I have crippling social anxiety I literally refuse to start conversations irl so holy shit I was OUT HERE doing the MOST

My player just originally had my name (Matt) but everyone in my party had fun names so Ryou was born! High school was one big yugioh phase for me and ryou bakura is one of my favorite characters ever so it was just the logical name choice lol I quickly started creating Ryou, the character, as well. I was also leaving my homestuck phase and that + vanitas obsession made This character design (art circa 2016)

If y’all are familiar with my kh oc’s you might notice that keyblade now belongs to my kid Monty LOL

Anyway that got scrapped quickly for the chip and dale outfit (which is where Ryou’s trademark goggles are from <3) Goggles have been a staple of my character designs for a LONG TIME so like, it had to be done, (that’s a separate ramble about a separate oc tho)

OG Ryou was an interesting guy; he was a young party leader with this overwhelming responsibility on his shoulders bc of his status as a party leader. In his original story, he also struggled heavily with darkness, much like Terra but for Ryou it was more that the darkness was controlling him and not like a source of power like it was for Terra

A big part of early Ryou I kept, however, was the crushing awareness of loss. One of my party members (the strongest one at the time,) had left without saying a word and I was very confused and hurt. This was around the time the ephemera plot was happening so I decided to incorporate it into Ryou’s story; having him experience losing a friend to darkness since it’s so normal for wielders in Daybreak Town to just disappear, and this would unintentionally become a theme for both me and Ryou as khux friends would just randomly disappear.

I was desperate for khux at this point and I decided to watch the fan translations for khx and GOD, god, was I obsessed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the foretellers. And I’m not going off about that here bc I already did that, but I actually started entering fandom again! I did it slowly, I started on tumblr before this blog was made altho it was me sending anons to the few khux related blogs I could have lol a friend convinced me to get twitter where I got involved with the ffxv fandom, which led me to the kh fandom and eventually the khux fandom there which is what REALLY got me going on khux.

I joined discord servers, most of the servers I’m in are khux related, and from there I joined the khux oc rp (shout out to anyone there who might be reading this lol here’s some art from the beginning of the rp,)

It’s SO FUNNY how the RP influenced me so heavily. I hadn’t RP’d in YEARS, I used to have a strict no oc rp policy, but here I was? And the funny part is, I had barely developed Ryou. I had scrapped his original story and all I had was POST WAR Ryou so I literally had to reverse write him; I had only ever written him as a depressed, guilt ridden adult, but it was a fucking blast and I have such fond memories of this rp when it was active,

But anyway, this encouraged me to get more serious about art! I started drawing, writing, cosplaying, and roleplaying when I hadn’t done any of that stuff in a very long time. The first time I ever drew a background was for a deviant art khux competition actually LOL

also! I always think extremely fondly of the drawing I did of Aced in the keyblade war. It was also one of the first backgrounds I ever drew and it felt like my real starting point in the khux fandom. It got a ton of notes on here and someone wrote a tiny fic in a reblog which just made me SO HAPPY like it really felt like people were noticing me :) I was going to draw a matching Ira but!! I just never did!! One day tho, it’s on my art bucket list to redraw this along with Ira,

Aside from my personal growth, khux was great for my social life ngl, I made SO MANY friends online and got to meet a ton of people irl over the years! It’s crazy to think about all the people I now know and talk to? It honestly makes me really emotional. I’ll never forget taking the train into NYC and meeting up with discord friends. Going to conventions and talking with people about the latest khux update? Absolutely insane and those were some GOOD TIMES, if I thanked every khux friend or even just person who made an impact on me then we’d be here for a LONG TIME,

Fun fact, for my Lauriam cosplay all I needed to buy was the wig I just owned his outfit LOL also? Probably retiring that cosplay ngl people treated me like absolute garbage when I wore him and it led to a lot of confidence issues for awhile ngl. That’s probably one of the only memorable negative experiences I have with khux; it was great when khux people recognized me but for kh fans that weren’t in khux? They were FUCKING MEAN??? fuck kh fandom at large, I only care about khux fandom,

This leads me to another huge part of my experience in khux fandom: THEORIES!! I used to write SO MANY and oh my god my brain was so full all the time. It was a huge appeal for me in the fandom; I had been previously writing theory posts in the RWBY fandom and it just migrated over to khux for me lol I had done a ton of theorizing around Lauriam tbh, it was really the only reason I liked his character at all bc initially I did not care about the dandelions, anyone who wasn’t Skuld I was like “please leave Now thanks”

A funny part of khux fandom I never intended to be apart of is the MEMES, I really only started doing memes as stress relief bc college had me so busy all I had time/energy for was these quick little shit post drawings.

The first meme I made, file name “invi despair” LOL we need to get her a girlfriend smh anyway, I think in my senior year of college I did a bunch of rapid fire memes all in one month bc the stress of finals was getting so bad afdgfhdgf as far as I know my impact on this fandom will be my memes bc all I do now is enter a kh/khux server and introduce myself and I go “yeah I draw art. here’s a meme” and everyone goes OH YOU, honestly I am nothing if not a clown

I’ve talked so much idk where I’m going with this. Khux is just a good game even if the gameplay actually kind of really sucks yknow lol but it was the first game I played where I like, REALLY got into the meta and the mechanics. I used to read so much on the mechanics and watch youtube videos on which medals were worth pulling for. I was never a whale or a top player exactly, but I could rank well if I tried lol I’ve made it to the top 100 for solo rankings, my party has made it to top 10, and in pvp I’ve made top 300. I’m not the highest level in my party but FUCK do I know how to manipulate this game LOL

And with all that hard work, the strategies, the theorizing, the content I’ve made-- it’s been my life for 5 years. I’ve logged into khux almost every single day. At the end, I have logged 1820 days in khux out of 1910 days. Kinda crazy. Crazier I’ve never spent money on khux either lol the only “money” gone into it was one time my mom gave me a google play store gift card and I used it on my birthday for a VIP xemnas medal which eventually made it to regular pulls anyway but it was nice and a little treat :)

I’m not a gacha fan, I don’t care for it, so I don’t think I’ll be touching another gacha again. But for kh? This was pretty fucking awesome, even if it sucked a lot sometimes LOL It was worth it for the people I’ve met most of all I think. I would honestly be a completely different person without khux and that’s REALLY insane to think about.

[mercyxkilling]

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you...

@chronicparagon​ said: [If it’s not too late, my url please?] -- oh my darling, it’s never too late to send me memes, even if i reblogged them years ago (though if they’re really old you’ll probably have to send me the context lmao; i have the worst memory in the fucking world!)

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;

my opinion on;

character in general: harmony, harmony, harmony... i mean, the girl’s name says it all! she’s such a sweet and wonderful girl from what i’ve gotten to see of her. she’s so accepting of others, so open-minded, and so ready to rush into action if it means she can save another person. mercy is such a bad influence and i’m almost worried for her when she and harmony interact, not that i don’t think that the other woman can’t think and act for herself or formulate her own opinions, of course! it’s just that i worry that there could be so much friction there and that’s the last thing i want for an OC like harmony that i truly, truly adore and feel like deserves better... in fact, i think that beautiful girl deserves the best things in life alone tbh. (i wish that i’d drawn her better a while ago, but now that i have my tablet hooked up and now that i have photoshop... maybe i’ll get you a better sketch this time around, yeah? :3c) how they play them: this is always kind of a hard question to answer when it comes to OCs since they aren’t canon or have something i can base their portrayal off of and be like ‘oh yeah, it’s true to game/movie/comic/whatever’ or something like that. but i really can say that i enjoy the way you play harmony, everything down to her fear of fire, to her pride of her heritage, her love and kindness, and the way that she strives to help others. closed-minded people are so quick to write off a female OC with a kind heart when those kinds of characters have SO MUCH to offer the creative writing world, and i’m so glad you’re here and that you’re apart of it, sharing what you do with all of us. it’s truly a joy to see, you know? the mun: when i’ve posted stuff that, unfortunately, has sometimes been on the negative side, you’re one of the first people to slip into my IMs and ask me how i’m doing, offer me advice, and talk me down, or at least into a more manageable mood. now i’m not saying that others don’t do that for me, too, but... i mean, because we don’t talk a whole lot or interact ic very much (and that is ALL my fault btw because my muse is a fickle fucking bitch... and because i’m SO afraid that mercy will clash with harmony because of her awful personality--at least depending on the point in her narrative we’re at) you’re still almost ALWAYS at the forefront sending me supportive messages to bring me up and to get my feet back on the ground when it sometimes can seem impossible depending on the situation. you’re such an amazing person and i feel like people (including myself) don’t remind you of that or tell you that often enough. so thank you for... simply being who you are.

do i;

follow them: of course i do!! rp with them: we have exchanged ic things here and there, but not nearly enough. i want to change that soon, but as i’ve stated above, i do have my reservations. nothing to do with you or harmony at all!! it’s just mercy. but i do owe you a starter, and i plan on getting to that very soon! want to rp with them: bitch you bet your sweet ass i do. ship their character with mine: i mean, sure? if it happens then it’ll happen! familial-like bonds, platonic bonds, enemies, frenemies, actual lovers... who knows!? there’s room for all kinds of things and i would welcome them all as they happened!

what is my;

overall opinion: my god i adore you, i adore harmony, i adore the thought that you’ve put into her background and development, i love seeing you on my dash, and i look forward to seeing even more of you in the future. i hope you’re not too upset with me for having sat on a ton of asks that you’ve sent me in the past, but just know that i still have them and i still plan on answering them eventually! you mean a lot to me and i’m not about to just throw them out because ‘i wasn’t feeling it’ at the time you sent them to me. and honestly? if you’ll have me? i’d love to have lots of interaction with you in the future. :3c

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty.

[cosmiciaria]

Assasin’s Creed III Remaster review - Spoilers! - Long post!

I wanted to keep this spoiler free, but as this game is such a narrative experience, I don't think I'll be able to. I'll try to keep them at minimum, but be warned: there are major spoilers ahead. By the way, this game is almost a decade old, so y'all had plenty of time to get spoiled beforehand. And if you're reading this, it's because you like this game and you probably know how it ends.

Review under the cut because this is way too long. 

As always, I express my feelings and impressions regarding my experience with a game – I write it because I like writing reviews instead of, I don't know, recording a video for YouTube. I'm not a YouTuber and I feel safer behind a keyboard where people don't point out about my weird accent (the accent every Hispanic person has when they speak English). Since the pandemic started, I found refuge and comfort in AC games, with Syndicate being my first contact with the franchise, and Unity solidifying my love for it. I found strength and weaknesses in all the installments I've played, which are almost all of them by now (excluding the first AC with Altaïr, the new saga with Origins, Odyssey and Valhalla, and Rogue). I've also platinumed three of those games I've played, and I'm on my way to platinum this one, so I think I can speak from a deep fan standpoint by now.

Since Syndicate, I studied from up close each of the protagonists of the mainline games. I felt drawn to Arno because he looked like one of my oc's (and his girlfriend looked like my oc's girlfriend as well); I wanted to learn about Ezio because he's a fan favorite; I wasn't at all impressed by Edward but ended up growing fond of him; I respect Altaïr for what he means to the Brotherhood; but I can safely say, that I haven't felt as attracted to a main AC protagonist as I felt with Connor.

From the moment I knew he was a native American (such a bold choice, it seemed for me) I felt instant attraction – but not the, idk, physical (he's a cutie I give it to you), but because of what he could bring about as a main character. A perspective we don't usually get to see, and personally, as I'm not American, a point of view to educate me on a different side of history. I wanted to see what they could do with him as the star of the game, I wanted to play with him and understand how someone like him could rise up and become a protagonist of such a well known and beloved saga of games. I applaud this decision from Ubisoft, whether they did it because they wanted to look progressive or not, I don't care, I'll always cherish that the protagonist of a famous videogame is a Mohawk. And with the American Revolution as the main stage, no less. Such an important scenario to strengthen the virtue of independence, patriotism and love for a country, going hand in hand with a character that represents America even more than the Founding Fathers.

(Also I'm a Hamilton Fan Trademark so I couldn't stop singing random parts of songs while playing this game, it was a nightmare every time Lafayette appeared on screen because I JUST HAD TO start mumbling Guns and Ships)

I lunged blindly into this game – I'd only spoiled myself the very ending because I played Black Flag before – so imagine my surprise when I first saw Haytham, Connor's father, as the main protagonist.

So here's the deal. Let's clear this out of the way.

I thoroughly enjoyed the game. It was what I expected and more.

But.

Yes, there's always a but in AC games, you know the drill.

As I kept playing with Haytham, charming though he was, I kept thinking to myself "ok but when does Connor come into play". I also already knew Haytham was a Templar, so the end of the first few sequences didn't catch me by surprise – actually, what caught me by surprise was that there was no mention of Assassins or Templars during the "prologue" with Haytham, instead you're left to believe they're all Assassins until he prays to the Father of Understanding and you realize with a gasp "oH NoO!".

You play with Haytham the first three sequences. One of these have the most memories out all of the sequences more or less. This whole thing can take up to three to five hours depending on how much time you wish to put into exploring or completing the optional objectives. And still no signs of Connor.

Connor does come eventually – as a child – by sequence 4. It's not until the end of sequence 5 that you get to play as (almost) adult Assassin Connor, so maybe five or six or even seven hours into the game and you're barely starting.

I know what they did here. I understand. And this is what I meant when I said they were going for a 'narrative experience'. To make you play as Haytham before, to lure you into a false sense of safety believing he was an Assassin working for a just cause, to make you feel invested in his relationship with Ziio – only to discover he's one of the bad guys, that will eventually give birth to our true hero of the game – it sediments everything perfectly. It tells you everything you need to know to understand these characters and their motivations. I can see where they're going and some of it can be quite predictable, but it was done right. On the narrative aspect at least.

I got used to Haytham by the time we switch to Connor, we're used to his cloak and his three pointed hat – his accent, his sassiness, his everything. You grow fond of him and you think, hey, maybe it isn't so bad to not play as Connor, I can roll with this – until the sudden change happens. The game completed its purpose: let you know and care for Haytham, only to strip him away from your hands and bring you the real protagonist with an interesting background that didn't need to be told, but it was instead shown to us players. What a better way to tell a story.

But the problem is – most of Haytham's memories are fillers. For starters, the very first memory where you appear in the opera house (similar to that one at the end of Black Flag… mmm) serves as a tutorial for climbing and killing with the hidden blade. Then the whole memory on the ship to Boston – completely expendable and removable, the story doesn't suffer from it. All the memories used with Haytham as tutorials – how to shield from an open line of fire, how to use ranged weapons, how to sneak and find stores and viewpoints, how to use horses and walk on snow, fricking Ben Franklin – everything, everything could've blended in better. You could still tell the story you wanted in only one sequence playing with Haytham, and end it the way it does end in sequence 3, without avoiding any important detail to frame Connor's backstory as well – but instead, this part with Haytham does feel like it overstays its welcome, and by the end you're just hoping it ends soon, it drags on for too long, and there's no real sense of thread pulling the strings together here, everything just kind of 'happens'.

But the never-ending prologue doesn't end there (badam tum tsss), because Connor still isn't an Assassin. Connor is not Connor actually, as I had been led to believe prior to playing this game: his real name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, which I wish it was used more often than it was. Ratonhnhaké:ton is like four or five years old when you first play with him, and his village is assaulted by what we assume are Charles Lee's men, a Templar and companion to Haytham. Ratonhnhaké:ton swears revenge upon these putrid British invaders and he grows up resenting the death of his mother, who died in the fire provoked by these Templars.

Not even knowing what a Templar or an Assassin is, Ratonhnhaké:ton is sent by one of "the spirit guides" (actually, Juno, one of the Precursor people) to seek the Brotherhood. When he's around 14, he sets out of his village into the wide world and finds Achilles, who will become his Assassin mentor – that is, after completing a set of tasks that yet again seem to go on forever. Ratonhnhaké:ton turns into Connor to cover his true origins, a name I thought it was random, but by the end I realized how wrong I was.

It isn't until Connor turns 17 that he becomes a fully-fledged Assassin – and you might think, well, Ezio became an Assassin at the same age – yes, but it didn't take him five sequences to reach there. I can't believe I'm defending Ezio.

It's not that I didn't enjoy playing as Connor when he was a kid, no, and I also don't think that part of the game should be skipped since it shows his people, family and friends – maybe comprised, yes, into only one sequence – the real problem here is the fact that first you need to play what could be considered the longest prologue ever, even longer than Kingdom Hearts 2's one, and you're teased with grasping the real protagonist but no, because there's still more 'prologue' to cover with Connor's rise to the Brotherhood. The real, real story, begins in sequence 6, and even then you still have a lot of tutorials to listen from the NPC on duty.

And if you do the maths – you're halfway through the game – halfway! – and you're just starting. The game has twelve sequences and the meat of the plot is on the last six. Then, why did I play all the previous parts?

For the 'narrative experience' thing I talked about. They wanted to lay the groundwork for a better, compelling storytelling, and I can appreciate it, but not when it hinders the pace of the game this way.

That is, certainly, my biggest issue with the game. The pace. If you're going to give me such a slow start, introducing characters non-stop, and only give me resolutions, discoveries and action packed sequences on the later half, then the story isn't balanced at all – I understand that at some points you need to slow down and sink in what's going on; you can't also introduce ten characters in one cutscene because that's just bad story telling – but the memories of this game are clearly not well organized and weren't thought with the player in mind, but rather with the story in mind. To think that the first mission you do as a full Assassin is to receive more and more tutorials on how the fast travel points work and how you can lower your notoriety (as far as gameplay goes in this mission, it's only walking around at a slug's pace to follow the NPC giving you instructions) it does feel like a slap in the face after all the things and hours and effort you put into it to finally reaching this point (which, I remind you, it's by sequence six!).

It's at this point where I can't blame people for not following through with this game. I have plenty of friends who abandoned it even before reaching this part. And I found myself having trouble to return to it: I only wanted to go back to it because I knew I had to like Connor, I knew he wouldn't disappoint me as a character.

Boy, was I RIGHT!

Now, to be honest, I may be biased, like I said: I was instantly attracted to Connor due to his backstory and I wished to see what he could bring to the table. And I have to say, he didn't disappoint me at all.

Maybe you know or maybe you don't, but up until this point, my fave Assassin was Arno: he showed weaknesses and he suffered the consequences of his actions, to the point of no return, that rendered him vulnerable and a mere human being. And I love me a good vulnerable character who knows their limits and strives to get out of that pit. I love me a good, compelling character that has growth and agency and isn't made of cardboard or has a one-dimensional personality. And Connor delivered on this front.

Connor might very well be my new fave Assassin. I'm sorry, Arno. I still love you babe. But Connor… I never found myself rooting for a character more than I did with him. I wanted him to succeed, I wanted his people to be saved, I wanted to see his ideals become a reality – and he's got so much agency, he's a storm when he comes into a scene, his naivety mixed with the brutality of his killings, the simplicity of his reasonings – he's an idealist, and he fights for it, whether we like it or not, and that devotion to his own creed is at least respectable, let alone admirable. He's never downplayed for his upbringing or his ethnicity, he works among the most notorious people as if he was another one of them, he's well respected in his community, he shows kindness and always offers a helping hand to those in need, but never doubts to plunge his blade into this opponent's throats, fearlessly, he doesn't mind telling George Friking Washington to shut the hell up and not follow him because he'll kill him (there's such a pleasure in a native reprimanding enslaver Washington) – he's, simply put, a great hero.

I've seen many complain that he's boring, or that the actor who played him, Noah Watts, delivered lines in an emotionless way – the only thing that could make him 'boring' is the fact that he's not a lady's man like Ezio was, and to my eyes that's a plus. He speaks slowly and modulates well in English because that's not his mother tongue, and I can appreciate when a company puts these little details, like his way of speaking changing throughout the game as he gained more confidence with this new language he was learning to use. As non-English native speaker, I certainly can commune with the feeling of adapting my tongue and my brain to a new language, and I also know that I speak weirdly to those who are native, maybe I don't have the same intonations, and maybe I sound emotionless as well, who knows, but I can't think of a better portrayal of a non-English character speaking English in videogames than this one. They remained faithful to his culture, and even though I noticed Noah didn't speak Mohawk as fluently as English, I can still feel pleased with the fact that Connor speaks in his mother tongue in all of the scenes he interacts with Mohawks (that's something they did better here than in Unity, where not a single character has even a French accent. I switched the language spoken to French in my subsequent playthroughs, much to my disappointment, because I really liked the Canadian actors). I know subtitles may seem threatening to some, but I wish they did this more often: deliver more lines in the original language of each of the protagonists. It shows care and respect. And I think this game excels at respect.

So, yes, I liked Ratonhnhaké:ton, as you can see. Maybe a lot. Too much.

I also really, really enjoyed his relationship with Haytham.

When Haytham appears back in to the fray it's when the plot picks up. Their interactions are gold: I love the rivalry, I love that Haytham is constantly testing his son, and I love the tiny bits that may show or make us believe that Haytham has a soft spot for him – I love that we never truly know what's going on through Haytham's mind, why does he do the things he does – but what I enjoyed the most about these two fighting together is the fact that they represent opposing forces, a clash of interest, and they bring back the concept of the blurred line between the Templars and the Assassins, their different methods. Haytham represents the collectiveness of the Templars, through him we learn of what they truly uphold as right and just, and behind some of his reasonings you can see sense and understanding – you comprehend his goals, you get to know your enemy, your antagonist, which is something, for instance, the Ezio trilogy lacks (because Templars bad bad pium pium die Templar bad guy) and Unity and Rogue tried to do but ultimately ended wasting its potential. I never understood Templars more than I did through Haytham, and sometimes I found myself nodding at some of his statement, like 'hey… huh… he's not that wrong about this…'. But still, we're led to believe that the good guys, the Assassins, are never wrong, so we pull through with Connor – only to realize that yes, Haytham was right in many aspects, and yes, Haytham has lied to us and he needs to be stopped.

It's here when my love for Connor reached its ultimate stage: when he denies both his father (Templars) and Washington (for whom the Assassins were working). It's here where you see the true agency of this character. It's not black or white, as Ezio's games were; it's not that he was expelled against his will from the Brotherhood like in Unity; it's not that because of a clash of interest now he resorted to the Templars, like in Rogue; no, it's the philosophy of the very first AC game with Altaïr: Templars and Assassins are one and the same, they only differ in their methods, and when Connor comes to this realization, his struggle is visible and he puts his people first. Like always.

He remains true to his personality. He's grown, he's seen the truth, but he must make a decision. And after all, we're here because we want to see him protect his people. That's his real main driving force and we root for him because of it.

Now, I've spoken a lot about our main character. But, what about the secondary ones?

Achilles, Connor's mentor, hides more than he's willing to share – but slowly his backstory unfolds. In his homestead, Davenport, you're able to build a community with different townsfolk that you can invite to live with you through special sidequests, which combine plot and gameplay seamlessly. Through the homestead missions, you get to know Achilles and the other inhabitants and you see them thrive and grow into a tight-knit community close as family. I daresay that these missions were my favorite out of the whole game, and seeing the town grow not only in NPC's walking around but also in sounds, steps, people working and laughing and dogs barking and kids playing, gave me all the fuzzy and cozy feelings of a warm blanket in winter. Most of Connor's innocence and kindness is shown through these missions, and there are also some really good jewels hidden there, like the quest that asks you to guide the pigs back inside – damn. This game gave me very good laughs.

On a gameplay level, this game is light years away from its predecessors – the parkour alone has been revamped and revitalized, making it more fluid. Free running now isn't a chore anymore. Now you can hunt, which is a great part of Connor's backstory and culture, so it's good to see they blend gameplay with plot like this. There's a crafting system that took me ages to understand, but thankfully I got the hang of it. The combat is pretty much the same (counter kills always for the win) and the difficulty remains quite easy, as the games that came before. I wasn't looking for a challenge so I'm fine with it. Now, if you're looking for a challenge… the optional objectives got it covered for you. Because, good lord, they made these stupid main missions so much unnecessarily HARDER and IMPOSSIBLE to complete without having three or four ragequits and sometimes you have to restart up to ten times. To be honest, I never found myself more enraged with the optional objectives than I was with these missions, and I thought Unity's optional constraints were stupid ass complicated, I was wrong. This game. Must be. The most. Annoying. Piece of videogame. To platinum.

Apart from the 'oh I want to die optional objectives' thing, you have naval missions – which, yes, you guessed it, take place on a ship – I guess they were testing the mechanics for a (not so far away) future pirate game, because I can see the seeds of what later Black Flag came to be. It's serviceable and it fulfills its purpose, but as I don't like ships much, I left it on hold for the endgame. 

If you don’t dig the naval missions nor the main missions, there’s plenty to do in this game: you have the aforementioned homstead missions, the club challenges (which can take... quite a while), the underground fast travel points (a nice change of pace, though you can easily grow tired of them), the liberation missions, which will see you help liberate a city from Templar control and recruiting a new Assassin apprentice, much like in Brotherhood and Revelations; taking Forts, hunting like there’s no tomorrow, courier, delivering items and message delivery missions, a ton of collectibles, etc, etc. 

You might realize I stopped talking about the plot by the time I reached sequence 6 – yes, it's because I'm a little upset with it.

I said that we're here because we want to see Connor protect his people and triumph against the Templars. Yes. We receive that, yes. Amidst. A thousand. History. Lessons.

In my Ezio's Collection review, I complained that in Revelations we were shoved history in the face – I hadn't still finished AC3, because then I would've mentioned something about it. Connor comes across all the important figures of the American Revolution in such a contrived way – he acts as a guardian angel of this revolution, aiding each of the emblematic characters that took part in. I can roll with it in my suspension of disbelief (how come this one person was present at every major event, you know), what I can't roll with is the fact that he was present at the Declaration of Independence – this is some Ken Follett level of bs of probability of something happening to a character. Besides, it's always latent though never truly explicitly addressed, but Connor's skintone was something that should've deterred him from even speaking to someone like Washington – let alone, be present at the moment they signed the Declaration. He does mention at some point that freedom and this new nation was only for white men, and that he acknowledged that slaves deserved as much freedom as everyone else was fighting for; I'm glad he addressed the elephant in the room, though I'm also glad they didn't make the whole thing about it, because normalizing a character like this as a main protagonist was the main idea, I think, when they chose a Mohawk to represent the American Revolution. Still, that someone like him was able to achieve all he achieved in a plot like this, it only means he has some kind of Main Protagonist Shield, otherwise I doubt this could've served as a realistic story for anyone else in the same situation as him. It's, uh, a little hard to believe, that's all. Whereas I can see Arno existing within the historical frame of the French Revolution, without being the one that let the guillotine fall on King Louis' head, this one was a little more far-fetched.

I haven't touched upon the Desmond part – the present day of this game is more, uh… present than ever. And I loved it! I loved it because it delved deep into the Precursor's lore, and also it fleshed out Desmond's relationship with his father, and we actually do shit with Desmond – though that part of the Brazilian stadium, huh, for a company that paid too much attention and consulted with experts on the Mohawks, they clearly left Brazil out of their investigations. I forgive them, they tried.

The music… didn't have as much personality as other installments, it was kind of there, and right now I can't evoke a single theme except for the main menu one, so there you go, it's quite forgettable for my taste, sadly.

I forgot to mention that: this game looks gorgeous. I played the Remastered version of the game, and sometimes it looked like it was done for the PS4 instead of being a remaster (it does look better than Black Flag which came afterwards!). Lighting is magical, the trees breathe life into the screen, the water effects are crystal and realistic; many times I felt like was horse-riding in a Last of Us game (yes, I just compared Ubisoft to Naughty Dog, don't hit me). Davenport Homestead is my favorite location, now more than ever, because it's not only beautiful, but it also means home.

This game accompanied me in a very important moment of my life: I sprained my ankle and I spent a week in bed recovering, while also pondering about my job and the prospects of my future; I took many decisions while playing regarding what I want for my life. I cried at the end because I realized I had become too attached to the characters and because I was so sad to see Connor keep losing things. It all comes full circle by the end. It's a very mature ending, maybe a little unfulfilling, but reality is often disappointing and not everything needs a happily ever after.

All in all, my major complaint goes to the structure of the game and the poor organization they gave to it (AND THE OPTIONAL OBJECTIVES DAAJKSDAD). But Connor as a character in itself made it all worthwhile for me. And I'll always cherish him. I know he won't resonate with everyone, but he resonated with me.

[varricmancer]

Intertwined | 1

*** Cross-posted on AO3 *** 

Pairing: Farkas x F!OC

Summary: A child of Mara was a soul blessed and bound to its mate for all eternity. Elizabeth Williams is summoned to Mara as a lost soul, only she's from modern America and her mate is somewhere in the wilds of Skyrim.

A/N: Yes, I know I have other works that need to be finished, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. So here we go. I'll probably change the summary eventually, because right now it sounds cringy and childish, but I really wanted to get this out.I LOVE Elder scrolls and I've been playing the games since I was little, reading everything I could get my hands on, play ESO regularly even. I'm not saying I'm an expert, because I am SO not ( I have a horrible memory ), but I'm saying that I'll try not to mess up the world too much. If there are things that I can't figure out in ES lore, I'll probably fill it in with Norse lore so be warned ahead of time.I hope you enjoy this story. I LOVE Farkas and I wanted to start my first venture into writing ES with him. In my head this is going to be a huge series with different couples as soulmates. Vilkas is going to get his story after I finish this one ;)

***

When she had gone to bed that night, nothing about her day had been different from any other.  

She’d come home from her shift at the restaurant where she’d been working for ten years feeling like her back and feet were going to fall off. She’d taken a long soak in the tub as she thought about her job and how much of a dick her boss was for not giving her the raise he’d promised - or the interview for the sous chef position. She’d bet her life savings he was going to offer it to the incredibly annoying fake blonde Commis Chef they’d hired just last year, only because she kissed his ass and sent him flirty smiles all the time. Probably more, who knows.

After her bath she’d eaten a fast and easy dinner of kimchi fried rice using leftover rice and bacon, with two whole eggs because she deserved it.

Then she’d gone to bed with some crime show on in the background that she hadn’t even paid attention to and had fallen asleep quickly due to exhaustion. She'd been too tired to even think about playing one of her games.

And now - now she was currently experiencing one of the weirdest dreams she’d ever had in her life. Maybe it was her mind trying to cope with stress or just the result of eating bacon before bed.

It wasn’t so much the setting that was odd. It was actually really pleasant. A vast meadow filled with plants and wonderful smelling flowers that she’d never seen before. Butterflies flit through the air around her and all the colors were so vividly amped up they were practically glowing. Little creatures that she didn’t recognize would often peer around a bush or run along her path, watching her curiously. How odd that none of them seemed very afraid.

She followed a little stone pathway, simply strolling along as she admired her surroundings. When she’d read The Secret Garden as a girl, she’d often pictured a place like this. Calm and beautiful. Of course, she’d always added elaborate stone kitchens because even in her imagination she had to be cooking something.

Suddenly, strange balls of golden light began to appear and float around her. But somehow, she wasn’t worried or afraid. They felt...familiar, almost.

“You have finally arrived. Welcome, Elizabeth.”

She turned towards the voice, finding a strange-looking but strikingly beautiful woman standing near a large statue. She almost looked like someone cosplaying or attending a ren fair with her medieval clothes. She kind of reminded her of an older version of the Princess from Braveheart, actually. She was smiling down at her in an almost motherly fashion and Elizabeth thought for a moment that she should find it weird how tall the woman seemed to be. Nearly nine feet at least. That was weird, right? And was she...glowing?

“Where am I?”

“In my home. I am Mara and I called you here to correct a wrong.”

The only Mara she knew was from a video game. “A wrong?”

The woman gestured towards the golden orbs that continued flying around them both slowly like they were happy to be in her presence.

“These are the souls of my children waiting for their turn to return to their beloved. While many decide to simply live one lifetime and then rest their souls in the realm of their choosing, there many still that are bonded to another and choose to live again with each other.”

“Soulmates. Yeah, I’ve heard the concept in fanfics and cheesy television. What does that have to do with me?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, playing along somewhat. Of course, if this had been real she would probably be scared off her ass right now, but since this was a dream she could be as sassy as she wanted.

The woman merely folded her hands together and graced her with a patient smile, making her feel like as ass.

“You are one of those bonded souls. However, I believe that either someone disrupted your cycle or stole you from me completely because you were not only in the wrong timeline but in the wrong realm as well.”

Elizabeth’s heart ached with longing. A soulmate...for her?

Even her dreams mocked how lonely she was.

The woman turned and waved her hand and suddenly a big orange...thingy...appeared. Kinda looked like a certain eye. Her dream was pulling out all the stops today, huh? She hadn’t even watched Lord Of The Rings in years. She guessed it also kinda looked like an Oblivion gate from her Elder Scrolls games.

“I have opened the door for you to return to your mate. I am sorry that it took so long. You must have been lonely.”

Elizabeth swallowed thickly, thinking back on all of her wasted years with the wrong people. On her mom. On her brother that she couldn’t find.

“Yeah.”

Somehow the woman suddenly seemed to become smaller, although still towering over her. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Elizabeth’s forehead before guiding her gently towards the door. It looked more like a gate to hell than something that would lead to anything good.

“Go forth, child of Mara, and be reunited with your love.”

Elizabeth Williams exhaled shakily and stepped through the blazing door before she realized the woman had never even told her how to find her soulmate or what his name was.

Good thing this was only a dream.

***

[shadowfae]

1- Not much tbh, just what you've posted, and 2- To be honest I quite like your long answers. It can definitely wait though, you should get some sleep.

Is your warpriest link a constant thing? Does it ever fade into the background? I'm contemplating forming a second link, something happier than my copinglink, and I'm not sure how to tell when to tell when the line of a link vs a persona is crossed when not worn out of necessity.

And the original ask so I have it on hand. I did take a look at your original context, and if you're cool with it, I'll edit this post with a link for those who may find this is a useful answer and need that on hand. Otherwise, it'll stay a mystery.

But yes, it seems like my Sabe experiences would be a useful thing to talk about here. And in order to do that, I need to go over four things: who and what Sabe is, why he exists the way that he does, what that does for me, and lastly what I think he is in terms of terminology and why.

To start, here is his toyhou.se profile, if you want to read more about his actual story and thoughts and whatnot. But I doubt you'll have the necessary context for that, so let me go into it. RuneScape (RS) is one of the oldest MMORPGs in existence. WoW might be older but I doubt it. Basically it's a medieval magic fantasy that's very long running and you the player end up the World Guardian, aka the guy that stops the gods (who are very powerful folks who just don't die of natural causes and typically stand for some philosophy) from blowing the world up because Guthix, the dead god of balance, asked you to. Well, he voluntold you. And that makes you a major chess piece, Elder Gods get involved, it's a big mess.

But before all that happened, back in 2006 when I was introduced to the game and very shitty at it, well. I liked the lore insofar that I've always liked the lore, it was interesting and I liked thinking about it. I didn't have membership and I sucked at playing so I just read the wiki and the God Letters over and over and sometimes the Postbag from the Hedge. Alongside my two friends, we played at being children of the then-triad of main gods: Saradomin, Guthix, and Zamorak.

I liked Zamorak best, but I didn't think his ideas would be the best for society as a whole, so I ended up playing child of Guthix. Eventually we grew up and grew apart but every couple of years I'd go back to RuneScape, read the lore, settle on what choices I'd make if I could play, and think about being the player character. In 2010 I discovered a fic - dawn by khayr, it's on Ao3 and dA - about Iban, son of Zamorak, right around when I was reading Percy Jackson. Cue him showing up as a soulbond and an older brother figure and guiding me right up until the end of sixth grade. Iban got me through the ruthless bullying that would later set the stage for all my major suicidal-ideation and self-hatred for the entirety of high school: even then, I was more stable than I might've been otherwise, because he interfered.

Saradomin stands for strength through order. Procedures and law and diplomacy and war strategy. He was originally kind of a ripoff of the Christian god, but he's grown to be more of an order-over-peace character and is quite well-written. Guthix stands for strength through balance, and has been all over the board in terms of what he's done and will do. He's kind of a dick, actually, but his heart's in the right place.

Zamorak, as you've heard, is strength through chaos and personal strife. It's no "the strong over the weak" or "the strong take care of the weak", it's flat-out "everyone is strong, and just need the right circumstances to tap into it to be the best they can possibly be". Now, his philosophy is kind of more for warriors and scholars, but if you tilt your head, it applies to everyone. Chronically ill folks will find their chaos in fighting to get up every day and maintain a life. Folks in traumatizing, abusive situations find that chaos in their very survival. Scholars challenge themselves and their fellows and their predecessors trying to find the answers they so need. Nobody in lockstep, no such thing as "we've always done it this way."

A lot of human Zamorakians and Saradominist propaganda says that Zamorak is simply absolute evil: and to be fair, when most of that was written, he kinda was because he was based loosely on the Christian devil. Later writing says that they're typically mistaken on that. Zamorak isn't evil. The very first thing he did upon becoming a god was fulfill a promise and lead a slave rebeliion. (The Avernic uprising, if anyone's curious.) He stands for the downtrodden and says "You are never going to get your dignity by going through the motions and trying to peacefully show you're worth respect. Burn some shit down and prove that you won't stand for this bullshit."

Zamorak in a Saradominist's eyes is someone whose banner you wear when you want to be a crazy murderer. Zamorak in a Zamorakian's eyes is the singing voice who murmurs "Get up, this isn't enough to kill you, you can still do this," when transphobic laws get passed or you hear a slur thrown your way on the street.

And as someone who grew up queer and nonhuman, yeah, that resonates, and the older I get the more I think "Guthixian philosophy is best for a society at large, but Zamorakianism for individuals is good." Because Zamorakianism can't really apply on a theocratic level. It really doesn't. It turns into American bootstrap culture and no social services and all that shitty stuff.

The funny thing is that Zamorak himself has no issues helping out if he thinks you need it. (If he didn't, he wouldn't be cool with asking for help, or giving it when he's asked. Which he does do repeatedly so. The man has more kindness in him than people want to admit.) What I do find fascinating is what he thinks of the actions of some of his longtime subordinates, who clearly support him, but I don't think support his actual philosophy. Because if you ask me, he'd side with the downtrodden humans of Meiyerditch, not the vampire lords that treat them like cattle. He's proven that he likes humans, and doesn't see them as unworthy. I do wonder if Jagex will show us what he might do about that.

Either way. Ahem. Over the course of a decade and a half, I keep going back to RuneScape, refining my philosophy and side, thinking again what I would do playing the game proper. About... I want to say five years ago, Jagex opened up the Sixth Age and I finally noticed, and they rewrote every god's philosophy because they wanted every single one to be actually playable. Not just "hurr durr evil" but actually have a logical line of thought. They probably didn't have pop culture paganism in mind, but the gods of RS are incredibly well-suited to it.

Well, I found that out, and immediately went through every god's philosophy, and reasoned my way through it. What does a worshipper of this god look like? What sort of life would they lead? If i apply this to me, what does that look like from that perspective? Do I understand this? Is it comfortable to exist in?

And as it turns out, I understand Zamorak the most, followed a close second by Armadyl, which was quite surprising. Zaros remains incomprehensible and I don't trust like that. (That's another story.) So I thought about it more, and it stuck even when I wandered off to different fandoms and interests. But what happened was that I ended up internalizing it, unknowingly and without meaning to.

It meant that when, two years later, I ended up in a horrific and traumatizing situation, the anchor I hit that held me together was a mixture of being a Devil - I am a fucking God you will obey me and recognize my power - and Zamorak's core philosophy: this cannot kill me, this cannot stop me, this is pure fucking hell and I am going to laugh in the face of death because people are forged in hellfire and I will walk away knowing what I'm made of.

And I was right. Honestly, out of everyone who was there with me, I think I'm the only one that was that deeply entrenched and walked out without trauma. I do not believe I could have done that had I not internalized Zamorak's philosophy. (That isn't to say if the others had that philosophy they wouldn't be traumatized, because there were absolutely other factors I wouldn't know about and some that I do and didn't do them any favours; but I am saying that it saved my ass and without it, I might not have been okay.)

I walked out of that with zero regrets. Zero. Even now, I don't regret a thing. Because it doesn't matter what happened or how much I was lied to or if he deserved my kindness. I know what I perceived to be happening, and I know how I reacted, and when the pieces were down I was stronger than steel, gave kindness without considering the cost, and I walked away unscathed.

How many people can say they've looked death in the eye and laughed? More than there should be, not too many that knowing what I'm capable of when put into pure chaos isn't somehow impressive. Because it is. And Zamorak's words proved themselves, or rather, I proved him entirely correct.

And when I last went back to RuneScape, and thought about it with enough time to put it all into hindsight, well. Aw, shit, he was right. Then vaguely around that time I went back and read Dawn, which was unfinished, tracked down the author and demanded to know how it fucking ended. (She told me and we're still friends like three years later. xD) Then I went back and found my old OCs, and decided fuck it, I'm making my own World Guardian.

So first thing I did was log in and jump over to the Makeover Mage and make myself into a boy. Kept the plateskirt though, I wanted to have the RS equivalent of a limp wrist to prove I'm Very Queer. Then I went about remaking my character. I wanted to make a self-insert, I was old enough to know it wasn't cringey, it was just fun, but I didn't want to use my default avatar with the black hair over one eye and the Chaorruption. I wanted to make a new self-insert based in nothing I was already using.

So I made the most beautiful man I could! Long, dark brown hair, pretty semi-dark skin, looked Kharidian, and then I said fuck it and made him Zamorak's youngest son. Originally, he was adopted when he was young by Iban and Clivet, and suffered serious imposter syndrome when being WG meant he'd never get demigod powers. But as I grew more confident in myself, he ended up getting powers? And then eventually I rewrote his backstory, and then wrote about his mother, and her relationship with Zamorak, and then he had friends like Blaire and Icthlarin (who was also my furry awakening, rip me).

Then with the most recently questline I've been getting a bit more into RS magical theory, and I've been mulling it over lots, and Seanan McGuire's Middlegame definitely helped; and I figured out how I wanted him to handle being World Guardian: it didn't make sense for him to be openly Zamorak's son, the other gods would just target his family to manipulate him. So I had him play neutral openly and Zamorakian to his friends, effectively living a double life.

Then he just looked up one day and said "Oh, by the way, my father won't acknowledge me to keep me safe but I don't know that so we have a very unsteady relationship because I don't know if he loves me", and then Children of Mah came out, and he was all "Oh and I think I just got disowned (I didn't, Zamorak was protecting me, but I don't know that) so my relationship with Zamorak is Fucking Shitty" and he was stuck that way until I figured out how to save their relationship.

It culminated in Sabe not knowing how his Mahjarrat powers worked and guessing, and hating himself for being half-and-half, and missing everything about being a Mahjarrat, and literally you couldn't have gotten more obvious in order to tell me I was having Fucking Issues coming to terms with the fact I didn't have any understanding or knowledge of my own heritage, but whatever, eventually I noticed that.

And as I've been working to understand myself and my heritage, so too has Sabe been doing that with his Mahjarrat heritage. But for the longest time, no matter how I put him and Zamorak in the same room in a scene to try and get them to talk it out, it wasn't working. Something wasn't right. Sabe resented being World Guardian, hated having to betray his family, didn't know if he was wanted, and hated himself for having to kill Mah, the mother of his species.

Not that long ago, a few months actually, he informed me (which is my shorthand for 'I suddenly figured out this happened, and it genuinely feels like remembering that one fucking word you have on the tip of your tongue, I always knew and just forgot for a while') that no, he'd been ripped in two by a hope devourer, brought to his father's stronghold, and Zamorak split his magic between mortal and divine in order to get around his godproofing and heal him. Zamorak's intense worry for his youngest son was what caused Sabe to break down and tell him honestly what was going on and how he was feeling, which caused Zamorak to do the same, and they finally, finally made up.

A week later, I noticed the connection between Sabe's Mahjarrat issues and my Irish issues, and started to wonder if he was a linktype.

I mean... he's a self-insert. He makes the choices I would, the me in the here and now, that I think are best. He's not a person I was and still know myself to be, he's not someone I grow into, he's not living his life beside me like a shadow. He's me, choosing the things I do, because I say so. But he's also me in the things he reflects, the things he struggles with, and things I had zero fucking conscious input on.

Sabe is the person I am when a crisis hits and I have to deal with the chaos. Sabe is the person I am when I need to lead. Sabe is the person I am when I am desperate to be known and loved by those I consider family. Sabe is the person I am when I want to be sure in where I came from, where I will return to, and the things that I will always be. Sabe is a man of darkness who knows the light as an acquaintance and nothing more, who is cruel and careless and kind.

Sabe is a warpriest of Zamorakian philosophy, because it took me twenty fucking years to put into words how I see the world, and now that I know, I will argue them to death and use them to help others. Drakath may have wanted a messiah to share the hivemind with others. Sabe is a warpriest, spreading the word and calling home the broken and the damned. He is the Last Rider, not the last of the Ilujanka but the one who keeps riding towards the chaos and never falls, no matter what.

Some of who Sabe is I have conscious input on. A whole lot of him was unintentional and perfectly reflects me.

So when it comes to terminology... I don't know what he is. A self-insert, yes. A linktype, maybe. A kintype, also maybe. Sabe doesn't feel like my past linktypes, because Sabe isn't always catharsis and comfort. Until he made up with his dad, Sabe was brutal and hurt a lot and constantly yearning for his foundation and slowly going mad. It wasn't fun. I just refused to do anything but see the story through. I was going to get it right. I wanted to see it to the end. I wanted to be the Last Rider, even though I didn't phrase it that way.

But to answer your actual question, of what he feels like when I'm not actively being him out of necessity, desire, and active thought. If it fades into the background.

And like... it can? Sabe as he is, recognized for what and who he is, is kind of a new thing. Sabe as a concept is very old, but Sabe as what he is right now is new, and confusing, and honestly I'm still trying to figure out what to make of it.

Like, seriously. Sabe is Zamorak's son. Am I Zamorak's son? Is he keeping an eye on me as I am? Would he be proud of me? Would he offer his approval of my progress? Does that make me, in some way, the World Guardian?

I have not a clue, buddy. Not a goddamn clue.

So what it means is that I've been paying attention, really. I don't just become strong in times of crisis. I've been trying to do better. Be better. Learn, and listen, and rethink myself. Break out of lockstep, of doing things the way I've always done them. Try to always do better than I did, build habits I like, stop waiting for things to change and just do it. Become the chaos, instead of waiting for it to hit me.

It means I need to live up to what Guthix told Sabe to do. It means being gentler, being kinder, not burning bridges when I'm not sure. It means keeping an eye out for any sign Zamorak's listening, in case I am his son, in case I really have to decide what I'm gonna do about being the son of chaos incarnate.

But other than the questioning, what it feels like is just... what I was already dealing with, just a little more at arm's length and easier to deal with. Once I recognize that his issues are reflective of mine, if I solve his, I have a pretty good idea of how to solve mine. Some of it won't work exactly right - Zamorak will always forgive him for not being the son he expected he might have had, my own parents may not, yay I'm queer and pagan - but it's a good rule of thumb.

It's also just comforting to know that when in doubt, nothing can kill me, because I simply refuse to die. I am World Guardian, I am a demigod of chaos incarnate, all the hellfire in the world can do nothing but strengthen me. And if I present those to myself as unshakeable beliefs, because for Sabe they are, then I'll be okay. It probably couldn't stop most disasters or tragedies, but I got hit by a car, broke five bones, and walked away with a record recovery time, so I mean... I can't prove that I can't die by some accident or tragedy, but you also can't prove that I can. (Trying to do so usually falls under what we call 'murder', and I personally believe I can't be murdered. Only assassinated.)

But really, I think the worst that could possibly happen with a new linktype is that you learn what not to do. It's new, it's scary, it's chaotic, and from where I'm standing, that's the best way to learn.

[novastarlyght]

That Time I Named an Invader Zim Background Character and Everyone Thought it was Canon: The Story of Ixane

Like a lot of others it seems, the premiere of Enter the Florpus has recently made me think back to my first stay in the Invader Zim fandom many years ago. For me it was between 2006 and 2007, and I was 14-15 at the time. IZ was and still is a very special cartoon to me, not only for how it influenced me creatively but also the fact being a part of its fandom was my first really positive experience in a fan community. And I wanna talk about that experience because it... lead to something very interesting. Something that only could’ve happened in the now bygone days of the early internet where reliable sources were harder to find and misinformation was much more common, but somehow, has lasted until today. 

This is how Ixane, a silent extra that appears only in the episode “Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars,” got her name.

So first off, you might be wondering “Who the heck is Ixane?” As I mentioned, she only appears as a background character in the 21st episode of the original series, titled “Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars” which I’ll abbreviate for the rest of this post as just Backseat Drivers. She’s a member of The Resisty, a resistance group against the Irken Empire who also only appear in that episode, although they were planned to become more significant recurring characters later down the line before the show was cancelled.

In 2006 I LOVED the Resisty. They were my favorite group of characters in the entire show, probably because I was fascinated by all their potential which sadly didn’t get the chance to be explored before IZ was canceled. What planets did each of them come from? What are each of their individual species like? How did they form into a single resistance group? What were their names, their personalities? Their hopes, dreams and fears?! THEIR FAVORITE DRINKS?!?! I attempted to provide my own answers to some of these not-so-burning-to-anyone-but-myself (or so I thought at the time...) questions by writing a fanfic called “Resisting Authority,” which I published on Fanfiction.net and later DeviantArt. It’s since been taken down on FFN while the DA version is currently in private storage on my old account, so here’s a screenshot just to prove it existed:

(click here for larger image)

Despite being more adult in tone than the show it was based on and rather melodramatic (then again, I was 14, and probably so was everyone else reading it), “Resisting Authority” became really, REALLY popular... at least for a fic that didn’t feature any of the show’s main characters, given it was entirely about the Resisty and told mostly from the perspective of its leader, Captain Lard Nar. Regardless it got a large amount of positive feedback and significant fan art on DeviantArt, most of which is no longer online although there’s still a little bit hanging around - mainly featuring Lyn, an Irken OC from the story who chooses to rebel against the empire and falls in love with Lard Nar, leading to a star crossed lovers conflict.

Because the purpose of the fic was to further explore the Resisty along with the idea of “What if an Irken betrayed their own?” several characters that appeared onscreen for only a couple of seconds in Backseat Drivers were fleshed out considerably in “Resisting Authority,” where they were given names, species names, home planet names, backstories, motivations and personalities. And of these the one who received by far the most development was a feminine, blue-eyed alien in a hooded purple cloak who I decided to name “Ixane.”

Ixane would become one of the most important characters in “Resisting Authority” right behind Lard Nar and Lyn. She is a Xanan from the planet Xana, a race of spiritual mystics. She is initially distrustful of Lyn, despite her actions and claims to be as much of a rebel as the rest of them, due to her hatred for the Irken Empire and how they destroyed her home. She believes Irkens are more like machines than living creatures, their bodies merely being empty shells to carry their PAKs around, making them incapable of genuine emotion. When she discovers Lyn and Lard Nar have been in a secret romantic relationship, she becomes even more hateful towards Lyn both due to jealousy, since she’d been harboring feelings for Lard Nar herself, and her genuine belief that Lyn’s feelings aren’t real, something that will only hurt Lard Nar in the end.

However throughout the course of the story her views are challenged and eventually Lyn manages to prove her wrong by displaying what she can’t deny is anything but legitimate love for Lard Nar and compassion for her allies in the Resisty. Unfortunately Lyn is fatally injured during a battle with a number of Irken soldiers sent to hunt down the rebellion. Now wanting nothing more than happiness for the person she loves, Ixane uses her mystical powers to save Lyn’s life while sacrificing her own in the process.

This character development (both in the meta sense and in the context of the fic itself) plus her selfless heroic sacrifice is what I think made Ixane one of the fic’s breakout characters and caused her to stick in the minds of those who read “Resisting Authority.” They were no longer thinking of her as just some extra, but as this fully developed character complete with an arc that I’d made her into - as the character of Ixane. But it didn’t occur to me just how big of an impact this may have truly had until about 9 years later.

In 2015, the official Invader Zim comic series by Oni Press began publication and I found myself extremely hyped about IZ again for the first time in almost a decade. It was during this time I came across a particular IZ wiki article and section of its TV Tropes page...

(Sources are here and here)

And I thought to myself “Wait... I thought I named her Ixane...?”

Because at this point I seriously couldn’t remember. I hadn’t thought about “Resisting Authority” in years, and with TV Tropes in particular noting that Ixane’s name was given “in the [episode] script” I wondered if I didn’t actually come up with the name. Maybe it was in the script for Backseat Drivers after all so I used it in the fic. Being unable to find said script (the original script as made by the episode’s writers, not a transcript) I couldn’t confirm it, so I mainly shrugged it off and thought more than likely I just had a bad memory. It wouldn’t be on a (still regularly maintained) wiki if it didn’t at least have a high possibility of being canon, right?

Cut to last night, August 2019. Me and all my other friends and fellow nerds who also grew up loving IZ are still buzzing over Enter the Florpus and our childhood/teenage fan content comes up in conversation. I dig up “Resisting Authority” from my old DA storage for perhaps a good laugh and a bit of nostalgia when more of when I first wrote it starts to come back to me. “I know the wikis all say her name was in the script, but I swear I came up with the name Ixane myself,” I thought, wondering if there was any way I could prove it.

Turns out I could. All the proof I needed was in a drawing of the character I posted to DA in January of 2007, which like the fic was still in storage:

(click here for larger image)

“Um...I bet a lot of people who read Resisting Authority got the impression she was an OC. She technically isn't. She is a Resisty character we saw VERY BRIEFLY once or twice in Backseat Drivers and I just elaborated on her for the story. The cloaked girl, yasee. Just look here: [link] “

That link no longer works normally, however putting it into Wayback Machine provides a snapshot taken in September of 2006, which would be around the time “Resisting Authority” was first published on FFN. Scrolling down on that page gives us...

(click here for larger image)

Additionally, opening the image itself reveals the filename “resistycloak.jpg” rather than something like “ixane.jpg” or “resistyixane.jpg”

For those who weren’t in the fandom back then, The Scary Monkey Show was a very well known IZ fansite and its Encyclopedias section was basically a resource for the show’s lore, one considered highly reliable, before things like fan wikis became commonplace. I actually used this site as a reference for the different types of Irken ships and other planets in the IZ universe brought up in the fanfic and so did many other fic writers at the time. If any site on the internet would know a minor or even background IZ character’s name, if it really was in the official episode script, it’d be The Scary Monkey Show. Yet her name is listed as unknown.

So why am I telling you this?

Because as wild as this whole situation is, I’m not a person who likes misinformation. I feel like IZ fans, both young and old, should know Ixane is not actually this character’s canon name as given to her by the writers of the show. That being said...

I see no reason to stop calling her Ixane. That’s just her name now.

Heck, it’d probably be difficult to go back to thinking of her as having no name given how long the name has been used on all these wiki pages and whatnot. And I’m completely fine with receiving absolutely zero credit for actually being the one who came up with the name in the first place, because here’s the thing...

I may have made the name, but it was the fandom that spread it. The IZ community, primarily in my absence too, were the ones who codified, legitimized it. Who added it to those wikis and accepted it as canon all these years. Who believed in it enough to assume it came from the official episode script, from the IZ crew themselves!

Ixane isn’t my name for her. It’s our name for her, as the fans who made Invader Zim the cult classic it is today.

And I want that to be something we all can have and be proud of ❤︎

[toomanyhobbiesandthisisoneofthem]

Captain Levi Packs a Punch

So, uh.. This is a fanfiction oneshot... It’s inspired by that moment during the celebration/feast episode, where Levi punches Eren and Jean when they get into a row. I’ve never written a fanfic before, ever, and idk if I’m gonna make this a thing or not... but I had a fic idea today, and while I’ve had fic ideas before, I never really wanted to write them badly enough to actually go for it. But for whatever reason, this one hit me out of nowhere and said, “Write me!!!!! Please, please, please, please, please!!!” So... here I am. :P

Although I’ve never actually written anything for it, I’ve had this particular fanfiction universe running through my head for YEARS, so I need (yes, need) to give a little bit of a backstory on my AU before I jump into writing the actual fic. There’s a bunch of stuff in my AU that leads up to the point I’m going to write about in this story, and some things will make more sense if you understand those things.

If you don’t care about the backstory part and you just want to get on with the fic, here’s a TL;DR: Self-insert OC is an X-men-style mutant who travels through various fictional universes. Her mutant abilities involve redirection/manipulation of energy, whether it’s kinetic forces, electrical charges, heat/combustion energy, etc. Feel free to go straight to the fic. Just scroll down until you reach the end of the italics and hit the disclaimer.

I might upload another post at some point detailing a more extensive version of this backstory summary, but for now I just want to give you the gist of it.

Backstory Bullet Points:

1. This is a self-insert OC, though I’ll probably rename the character herself. I know these tend to have a bad reputation, but I’ll do my level best to make it not-dumb. There are still some self-insert OC cliches and whatnot,(she’s definitely a bit OP; I’m attempting to counteract that) but I’m trying to make the story focus more on the characters and how they interact, rather than being like, “OMG DIS GURL HAS DA POWER AN’ SHE’S GONNA SAVE DA DAY AND GET DA MAIN CHARACTER FOR A BOYFRIEND TOO!” sorts of things.

2. When OC was 21 or so, she was ported from her own world into a universe in which the Marvel Avengers, the X-Men, and all the Rick Riordan Universe books happen to be all mixed together.      By the way, Percy Jackson is a mutant himself along with being a demigod, and he has a major AU backstory of his own, which will be explained if I ever write a full AU-background explanation. This is not relevant to the current story, but it is a part of this AU.

3.  OC discovers that one of her ancestors was a carrier of the X-gene who was ported to OC’s home universe like a hundred years ago or so, but because OC was born in a variation of Earth-1218, her powers didn’t activate until she switched universes      -(Earth-1218 is Marvel’s version of/explanation for the “normal/real world”-- OC’s home universe is similar to Earth-1218, but it’s not actually the same one, because inter-universe transportation is possible with this universe, and the genetics for superpowers are still transferred from parent to child.     -OC’s home universe dampens people’s superpowers while they’re in that universe, unless the person with powers happened to be born there, are transferred to a universe where their powers activate, and then switched back to their home universe.)

4. OC’s mutant powers include but are not quite limited to: --Absorbing and/or redirecting energy within and through herself. She can’t directly manipulate energy which has no direct contact with her, so for instance she can’t turn on a lightbulb from across the room, and she can’t use telekinesis or anything along those lines. --She is able to sense everything around her, and feels the energy within it. Because of this, she has pretty strong empathic abilities along with a sort of touch-telepathy as a side-effect. --She is able to release a kinetic/thermal “pulse” of sorts, and if any sort of energy is directed at her, she can:      a) absorb it and release it later (for instance, if she’s walking through a fire, she can absorb the heat energy and then later use the heat she stored in order to, say, melt snow),      b) allow it to pass directly through her and into whatever is behind her, (if someone tried to punch her and she happened to be standing against a wall, the force of the punch would pass through her and hit the wall)-- this aspect of her mutation also allows her to fly.      c) “catch” it and redirect it in a different direction (if Cyclops shoots her with his laser eyes, she could catch the laser and shoot it right back at him, or off the the side, or straight up, or whatever she happened to need to do at the time.)

There’s more to her mutation than this, but that’s the basic idea. For the sake of understanding this particular fic, keep in mind this would also apply to the force behind a Titan’s bite, meaning she’s practically invulnerable to most of the deadly AOT situations.

5. Due to Backstory Stuff, she ends up being practically forced by the Fates to travel to various fictional universes every few years. However, she is never able to go to the original version of that fictional universe-- there will always be at least one thing that’s different from what she knows as canon for that universe.    Sometimes the difference is simply a minor plot point, for instance when she goes to the FMA:B universe, it’s basically just an “Ed still has automail and alchemy, and he stays in the military!” AU-- which is kind of big as far as post-canon stuff goes, but it doesn’t really change any of the actual events of the majority of the anime itself.     Other universes will have, or eventually have, huuuuge differences. The first universe she travels to, the Mixed Marvel/Riordan universe, is just one example of this.   Sometimes these differences may incorporate things I’ve seen in other fanfics; I’ll try to source them when this is the case. It’s not my intention to steal from other people’s works, y’know?

6. Due to More Backstory Stuff, although OC is always placed into fictional universes which she is very familiar with, the Fates place a voice-block on her in regards to the events of those universes, in order to prevent her trying to explain future events to the characters if she happens to land into the middle of the story/plot. She may be able to give some information, and she may be able to hint at things, and if she really fights against the voice-block-thing, she may be able to give them basic info on stuff that will happen soon, but she can’t, like, write out a timeline and have them follow events and try to prevent them, or anything like that.

There’s a lot more I could probably tell you about this, but I don’t think any of it is particularly relevant to this story, so I’m not gonna worry about it.

Disclaimer: I do not own, and have never owned, and do not ever intend to own Attack on Titan or the X-men/Marvel Cinematic Universe. The only character, scenario, universe, etc. in this work of fiction that belongs to me is my own OC, Allise Hart.

TW: There is punching in this fic. If the title didn’t give that away, lol! It is not meant as a hostile violent interaction, but it is still a punch. So I guess... minor violence warning?

Sorry if anyone’s OOC... Again, I’ve never written a fic before, so...

Okay, last explanation thing, I promise.... :P This fic takes place a couple weeks into the two-month break period between the first and second arcs of season three. It seemed to be the most reasonable point in which Allise could arrive, have time to explain who she was and how she got there, gain at least some semblance of the characters’ trust, and make bonds of burgeoning potential friendship with some of the characters. Plus, the second arc of season three is probably where she could help the most, if she were to help prevent any deaths in canon at all. Everywhere else is either too busy, or the deaths that happen in those arcs are too important in character/plot development for me to be comfortable preventing them while still remaining consistent with the main plot. Also, for ease of communication purposes, the characters of AOT speak English in this story.

I hope you enjoy. :)

Levi Packs A Punch

     The Survey Corps initial strategy meeting for the retaking of Wall Maria was to be held in fifteen minutes. Hange and Erwin stood in the center of the room, speaking in hushed tones, and several members of Levi’s team hung around off to the side. A current of nervous anticipation ran through the recruits. So much had happened these last few months-- so many victories, hard-won though they were. 

     What would come of this daring venture? Would their winning streak hold out? Was it possible they could actually be... gaining ground against the Titans? For the first time in a long time, it seemed there could be hope in this endless struggle for humanity’s survival. 

     Even their leaders were not unaffected. There was an extra spring in Hange’s step as they worked on their experiments. There was a strange fire burning in Erwin’s eyes. There was a steadiness to Levi that wasn’t there before, a sense of gentle calm taking the place of repressed chaos, and he seems less apt to speak out against the optimism present in the recruits.

     It was this atmosphere into which Allise entered as she opened the door and made her way to Commander Erwin. Hange was animatedly describing a new weapon they were designing with Eren, and as she drew closer, Allise was nearly hit on the nose by a flailing hand. Hange startled, and both commanders turned to face her.

     She technically wasn’t supposed to be here. Not that she cared.

     The silence continued for a moment before Commander Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “Can we help you with something, Miss Hart?”

     Allise shifted back and pressed her lips together. She glanced from the commander, to the wall, to the floor, and back again. Her face went through several different expressions, moving from pensive to fearful to determined. Finally, she took a deep breath opened her mouth.

     “Commander Erwin, sir. I... have a request. I want you to let me help you fight the Titans and retake Wall Maria.”

     Hange raised an eyebrow. Erwin blinked. “You what?”

     “I want to help you with this mission.”

     Erwin frowned. “Absolutely not.”

      Allise lifted her chin in a challenge. “Why not? You need all the people you can get. I’m sure I can help you. You-- I-- if I help, maybe I can... prevent--” her voice cut off. She coughed harshly, grimacing at the sudden burn in her throat.

     Hange studied her for a moment. “You know something.”

     Allise nodded, coughing again.

     Erwin cocked his head. “You know something important about this assignment in particular.”

     “Yes.”

     He nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, then he straightened. “I still can’t let you go. You have no experience. You have no training. You wouldn’t last two seconds against a 5-meter, let alone a fifteen or twenty. I cannot in good conscience allow an untrained civilian to fight Titans. It would be futile, and a waste of a good life.”

     Allise swallowed. “It’s true that I have no experience. I don’t know what I’d be walking into-- not really. All I know of Titans is what I saw on the show. However... You recall when I first arrived, I explained why my ears are pointed? As you know, I am not entirely human. I have special abilities. I believe that these abilities will protect me from the Titans.”

     Hange perked up. “What sort of special abilities? Can you run at superhuman speeds? Are you a shapeshifter? Are you able to fly? Do you have to--mmph!”

     Erwin placed a hand over Hange’s mouth. “What makes you believe your ability will prevent you from getting eaten? Prove that you truly have such an ability, and I will reconsider your request.”

     Allise grinned. “Thank you, sir. That’s all I ask.” She turned to Hange. 

     “To answer your questions, since you asked first... My abilities are energy-related. I can occasionally run at superhuman speeds, though the factors are extremely circumstantial. I suppose you could call me a shapeshifter, since I have two different forms; however, my base abilities remain the same in each form, so it mainly just affects my appearance. And yes, I am actually able to fly.”      “As for proving that I can effectively protect myself against a Titan...”

     Allise closed her eyes and pressed her hands together. She considered what, exactly, she needed to show them. How could she explain this in a way that made sense, without going to the trouble of finding a Titan to demonstrate with? She pondered her options for a while, nothing definitive coming to mind, until suddenly... Her eyes snapped open, and she fixed her gaze on Levi. Of course! A grin spread over her face. This. This was perfect.

     She straightened, then cleared her throat and asked, “Is there anyone here who’d be willing to get punched for the sake of a scientific demonstration?”

     Her sudden question was met with startled stares. Several of the recruits backed away from her warily. Then Eren and Jean started nudging back and forth, trying to push each other into volunteering; this eventually devolved into a shoving match, with Mikasa and Armin trying to pull them apart. 

     The situation had grown to the point where it seemed the boys might start actually fighting, when all of a sudden both of them were shoved aside, as Captain Levi stepped forward.

     “I’ll do it.”

     Allise blinked. “You’ll do it?”

     “Yes.”

     “You sure?”

     “Yes.”

     “I... well... alright, then. Uh. Don’t... don’t get mad at me if this hurts more than you’re expecting, though.”

     Levi gave her a level look. “It’s fine. I can take a punch.”

     Allise gulped. “Right. So... Come stand over here, in front of me.”

     Levi moved into the center of the room and faced her.

     Allise smiled slightly. “Good. Now, ah... where would you prefer to be punched? I’d rather not the face, if you don’t mind.”

     “The stomach is fine.”

     Allise nodded. She stepped forward, close enough to reach out, curl her fingers into a fist, and rest it against his stomach. Levi gave her a confused look. “Was that supposed to do something?”

     She glanced up at him, then, and smirked. “Not yet. First, I want you to punch me.”

     “I thought I was the one getting punched?”

     “Oh you are, but I need you to punch me first. As hard as you can. Doesn’t matter where.”

     Levi was thoroughly baffled now-- Allise could feel the confusion radiating off of him-- but he shrugged it off, lifted a fist, drove it into her side... and stumbled backward barely half a second later, falling to the floor, as she allowed the force of his blow to flow through her body and out through the fist she had placed against his stomach.

     Everyone stared. None of them had ever seen Levi laid out like that-- not even Erwin or Hange. He was legendary among the soldiers of the Survey Corps for his ability to take a punch-- and throw one. And now there he was, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling in stunned surprise with the wind knocked out of him.

     Levi coughed and gasped, catching his breath, then sat up and looked back at Allise. “What was that? You didn’t even move. How did you do that?”

     “I redirected your punch,” Allise explained. “That’s my ability-- any force that someone uses against me, I can just let it go straight through me, or I can throw it right back at them.”

     Levi blinked. Blinked again. Tilted his head as he parsed through what that meant. “...So. What you’re saying is...”

     “...I punched myself?”

     She smirked at him. “Yep.”

     A strange expression crossed his face. He glanced at Allise, then at his hand, and back to Allise. His lips twitched. He turned back to his hand, and then...

     His shoulders started shaking. His hand trembled a bit, and he pressed it to his mouth. Erwin grew concerned. This was not normal. “Levi..?”

     A sound escaped Levi’s lips, a sort of soft wheezing. Everyone was worried. What was going on? Was something wrong with him? Had he injured himself with that punch?

     Then, the sound began to register properly. It grew in volume, as if Levi could keep it contained no longer, and suddenly burst out of him resolving itself as deep, throaty chuckles, which in turn shifted fully into...

     Laughter. He was laughing. Captain Levi was laughing.

     Erwin stared. “Is... Is he alright?” Hange was just as baffled. “I... believe so? Unless he hurt his head, but... he was hit in the stomach, so it shouldn’t have affected his brain.”

     Levi’s team was similarly shocked. They had never seen him laugh... ever. They weren’t even sure he could laugh-- Historia had been lucky to get even a small huff of a laugh, after her coronation. To see him like this, it was...

     Exhilarating. Relieving even, to see that he, too, could be affected like this.

     It was contagious. Conny snickered. Armin started giggling too. Mikasa’s expression softened, and even Eren let a smile grow on his face.

     After a minute or two, Levi managed to calm himself and pick himself up off the floor. His face smoothed back to its usual expression, though his cheeks were a bit pink as he turned to Erwin. “I--” he cleared his throat. “I believe Allise has made her point. Her ability to--” his lips twitched, and he cleared his throat again. “Her ability to manipulate forces should allow her to safely escape any Titan that crosses her path. If she really wants to go, I think she’ll be all right.”

     Erwin shook himself out of his stunned stupor and turned to Allise. “I agree. You’ve clearly demonstrated that you are capable of... impossible things. I hereby grant you official permission to attend this meeting, and accept your offer of assistance in retaking Wall Maria.--       “--don’t make me regret this permission.”

     Allise stood to attention, placing her fists fore and aft in the official military salute. “Sir!”

     Later, when the meeting was adjourned and everyone was heading out the door, Hange turned to Levi, and said, “I look forward to seeing what exactly Allise is capable of against Titans. If she can do to them what she did to you...” Hange smirked. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

     The last thing Erwin heard as he made his way to his desk, was a fresh burst of laughter from Levi echoing down the hall.