#don’t actually need a new job per se

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 11 pt 1

masterpost

They had a teensy bit of a war council about the new problem when Danny came back from work.

“On the bright side, they did send someone to take away Brick,” Danny said optimistically. He tried, anyway. He had a grim and depressing certainty that he was going to have to do something drastic and violent to solve this problem. That sucked. It sucked so hard. He looked at his knees. “But. Yeah. They probably will come after you to make me make some dumb ugly guns or whatever.”

“Okay,” Jazz said calmingly, “Every problem has solutions, Danny.” 

…He scrunched up his face. He didn’t outright argue but he didn’t really see a great solution off hand.

Jazz’s big brain was clearly churning through the angles. She went quiet for a while, and then broke the silence in a thoughtful tone. “We could theoretically just kill the mob. All of them.” She looked up at the water stained ceiling and mouthed something that might be calculations. How many mob members she thought there might be? A plan to do this?

Danny blinked at her from his perch on the kitchen counter, hunched under the cupboard in a way that made him feel secure. “I thought this was going to go the other way. Like, with you telling me not to overreact.” He watched his big sister with a sort of horrified fascination.

Jazz waved that away with a hand. “I am not starting over again. I’m halfway through with my Gen Eds.” The dark smudges under her eyes looked even deeper in the shitty artificial lighting of their apartment. “The problem with that is that I only make about 1200 a month, and at that rate, we will never get you your identification.” She scowled and dug her fingers onto the tabletop as if she was going to squeeze cooperation out of it by force. “We sort of need that income source to get you into university on time. It’s important for your social development to get you back around your age mates sooner rather than later.”

He raised a hand like he had a question in class. “I thought the problem with that was going to be that murder is bad,” Danny said hesitantly. He was used to Jazz being the voice of morality. Were they doing something different now?

“The worst thing that happens to them is that they have to live near Skulker,” Jazz said waspishly. “Anyway, it’s on them for trying to make you build weapons. They’re the rude ones. They don’t get to throw off my twenty year plan.”

…Danny pinched his lips together to avoid the petty correction that they wouldn’t be living near Skulker, per se. Fair enough. The whole life or death thing did feel a bit less serious when you hung out with lots of dead people and they were just, like, people. Murder was, like, a conversation from a meat existence to a goo existence. It wasn’t nice, but it also wasn’t nice to threaten people’s sisters. 

“Speaking of, I need to get to work so that I have my perfect attendance record for a good recommendation for the next job.” Jazz scrubbed at her face with the back of a hand and then dragged it down, squishing her cheek. “Do you want me to bring back breakfast?”

Yes.

“No,” Danny lied. He shimmied down off the counter and into his shoes. “I’ll walk you there. I’m sick of being inside. Maybe I’ll pick up groceries.”

Jazz snorted and rolled her eyes, but she grabbed her bag without making fun of him. He walked with her down cold, filthy sidewalks and waved goodbye on the street across from her building. Danny pretended not to worry. She did him the favor of not pointing out that he was definitely going to come back at 4:30 am to walk her home. 

Danny locked the door when he got back in, but he felt kinda dumb about it. 

If this mob or gang or whatever (was there a difference?) knew where he lived and wanted in, the door was not going to keep them out. Maybe he should just leave it unlocked so that they didn’t bust it open and break the lock, actually. A lock was what, 40 bucks? He didn’t want to have to replace that.

He went back and unlocked it on that basis. Then he screwed up his face to think.

…There wasn’t really a reason for them to come. He hadn’t made them mad yet. It would be different once they came back and he said he really wasn’t going to make them any weapons. 

Danny locked it anyway and then set a timer for 4 in the morning. It was early for him to turn in but he grabbed the pillow off of the shelf and put it back on the sofa anyways. Hopefully he’d get to sleep like, right away.

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; back 2 u (part one)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is part one of my series, back 2 u! read the previous part here!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, alcohol mention and usage, party mentions, TAESAN IS A BIG FLIRT, reader lowkey doesn't like him lol

a/n: fuckboy taesan i won;t U so bad .. . .. </3

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

You would’ve never expected yourself to be involved with Han Taesan, well-known on campus equally for his pretty face and his ability to have someone new under his arm every week. Your school wasn’t necessarily huge, but it was impressive to think that most students had some inkling about who Han Taesan was.

His existence frustrated you deeply, actually. There wasn't any actual reason to hate him per se, but it was aggravating to think that some people just have so much going for them. Not only was he undeniably attractive to anyone who had eyes, he was also known for his unmistakable musical talent and a captivating charm that drew people in immediately. It’s almost comical the way you could be minding your business in class only to overhear a group of girls a couple seats over talking about how handsome Taesan was at a party last weekend or who his most recent fling could be.

Despite everything you’ve heard people say concerning him, you found it hard to believe he was such a player. Sure, he may have some good looks, but he looks… Innocent, in a way. Harmless.

The first time you’d interacted was in the library. You’ve noticed him in there on various occasions while you were working, but never paid much mind to it, given that he’d only look around the bookshelves for a couple minutes before seeing himself out. Taesan was standing right in front of the library’s help desk, where you worked for a couple hours in between classes. “By any chance, would I be able to check out this book?” He’s holding it out to you, and you’re surprised to find that he’s renting out one of your favorite novels. 

“Yup, I’m just going to need your name and student ID. You can only get it for four days at a time, but you’re free to come back and renew the book if you need more time with it,” You type away at the keyboard in front of you, opening up the form you needed to fill out for book rentals. “That’s a good book, by the way.” Your small talk is unnecessary, but your job was too boring not to make conversation with the few people that actually used your services. 

“Yeah, I’ve been eyeing it for a while,” He’s smiling as he takes his card out from the back of his phone case, sliding it to you on the counter. “Ah, my name is Han Taesan. And here’s my ID.” Picking it up, you notice that the name he’d just given you didn’t match the one on his ID. Han Dongmin? You were almost sure this was Taesan, though. Sensing your confusion, he chuckles as he moves to explain the mismatching names. “Most people know me as Taesan, not Dongmin. It’s just a nickname, really. Does it matter what name I use to check out the book?” He tilts his head as he looks back up at you, waiting for your response. 

“No, not really. It’ll be linked to your ID anyways, so it should be fine.” You scan his ID on the card reader next to you, allowing you to finish up the form splayed out on the monitor. Taesan drums his fingers on the counter, glancing around the near-empty library; he’s humming the melody to a song you don’t know. “You’re all set, Dongmin.” You slide his receipt and a piece of paper telling him when he needs to return the book under the cover before giving it back to him. 

He’s caught off-guard at hearing his real name come from your mouth, but he flashes you a grin regardless. “Have we met somewhere before…” Taesan’s sentence trails off until he notices the name tag pinned to your shirt, “...Y/N?” 

This time, you’re the one caught off-guard. “Sorry, is it better for me to call you Taesan?” You question. He’s probably only striking up a conversation because he doesn’t like people calling him by his real name— that probably explains why people call him Taesan instead. “And no, I don’t think we have.”

“Nah, keep calling me Dongmin. It sounds nice coming from you.” He’s leaning on the counter now, close enough for you to notice the luxurious-smelling cologne coming off of him. “You’ll be one of the few people who call me that, you know.” His comment makes you roll your eyes playfully, scoffing at the way he’s making it sound like a special honor for you to be able to call him that. “Are you free this weekend?” 

The clicking of your keyboard stops as you finally look at him properly, feeling slightly bashful at the sudden question paired with his intense stare. “...Why do you ask?”  Your initial perceptions of Taesan quickly dissolve, as you now realize that this is the type of person he really is. Looks really can be deceiving. He smirks at the expression on your face, happy with himself knowing he has such an effect on someone he just met.

He slides his phone over to you, just like he had done with his student ID just moments ago. You take a peek at it, curious about its contents, only to see a blank “New Contact” screen waiting for you. “Number?” He asks for a girl’s number… Like this? It irritates you to think that he’s probably used this exact sequence numerous times without fail, and now he’s here using it on you while you’re at work.

Hesitating briefly, you pick up the phone and type in your info— You hate how easily you give in to him, almost wishing you played a bit harder to get, but it’s hard to say no to the handsome face of Han Taesan directly asking you for your number. “I’ll text you, yeah?” 

“Okay,” You reply, completely baffled at the interaction that just unfolded all in the span of less than ten minutes. Taesan slips his phone into his pocket and tucks the book he rented under his arm, giving you a small smile as he steps away from the desk. As you watch him walk out the sliding doors, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Next to you, your phone screen lights up. 

4 new messages from “Unknown Number”! it’s dongmin [address] come saturday if ur free, starts at 10 i’d love to talk to u again, y/n :-) 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Just this once, you’re grateful that Han Taesan is so widely known, because it was surprisingly easy to find friends who were already planning on attending Saturday’s party. You were at ease knowing you’d at least have Riwoo and Sungho to fall back on if the nerves suddenly took over. 

You wish you could say that you debated on not coming, but that’d be a complete lie, because you’re currently standing in the middle of Riwoo and Sungho’s shared apartment throwing back shots to pregame. “It’s been a while since you came out with us Y/N! What’s the occasion?” Sungho randomly interrogates you while refilling the empty shot glasses on the counter. 

Biting your lip, you contemplate your response: Should you lie and say you just felt like partying this weekend? You’re well aware of the fact that the pair of roommates in front of you are friends with Taesan… So it wouldn’t be weird to mention him now, right? But then again, his parties are huge. Chances are, he invites random strangers to them all the time, so there’s no need for you to act like your interaction at the library was anything special— You’re about to answer when your phone screen flashes on the kitchen island.

 

2 new messages from “Han Dongmin”! i’ll see u later ya? ik u won’t leave me hanging again y/n ;P 

The notification exhilarates you. Was he looking forward to seeing you tonight? It annoys you slightly to think that Taesan knew you’d show up, even if you’d never confirmed the matter. “Ah… I didn’t know you were friends with Taesan, Y/N!” Riwoo reads the text off your phone from over your shoulder as he moves to pick up one of the shots Sungho just poured. Guess he chose the answer to your internal turmoil for you. “Now that I think of it, how come we’ve never gone to any of his parties together before?” 

Mirroring his actions, you take a glass for yourself and finish it in one clean gulp, wincing at the burn it sends down your throat. “Hm, I don’t think I’d call us friends. He asked for my number at the library the other day.” You correct him, explaining the encounter you shared with Taesan two days prior. 

Being the last to take their shot, Sungho hums in understanding across from you. You can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to actually get to know the kind of person Han Taesan is; Would he maintain the tension with his flirty remarks? Or is he just a normal college student that doesn’t actually live up to the reputation he’s made for himself around campus? 

“So, Y/N, do you think he’s hot?” Sungho blurts out, making you choke on your spit. Riwoo giggles from beside you, patting your back as you finish your coughing fit. “I mean, we don’t care if you think he is. Taesan’s a handsome guy. Hell, half the student population probably thinks so too!” Sungho’s contagious laughter fills the kitchen, making you and Riwoo laugh along with him. 

“Well duh, why wouldn’t I think he’s hot?” There’s a smile on your face as you admit your attraction to the boy in question. Han Taesan is definitely intriguing. The alcohol feels like it’s finally made its way through your system, the room feeling a bit warmer than it was earlier. The three of you didn’t drink much; just enough to give you a little more courage to go to the party without feeling too nervous. You take a glance at the clock on their microwave: 10:43PM. “Shouldn’t we get going?”

taglist: @minwrlds @luna2nite @taesancore @taesanmoon @helpsplease @taylorluvation (send an ask / comment if you want to be added hehe)

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 12, wc: 1k] - shady cemetery cleaning gig : y. jiyoon

AS A HIGHSCHOOLER IN NEED OF CASH, and quick, for whatever reason, you’ve taken to accepting any gigs you can find, and well… let’s just say some of them might be pretty shady as you’d expect. 

that’s how you find yourself at a cemetery, cleaning tombstones and maybe patrolling the area while you’re at it. the job isn’t really the problem, per se, but the shift time is from midnight to five in the morning, and the person who was offering the job just gave you the money (which made your wallet quite a bit heavier) and gave you an address. 

(upon hearing this, jiyoon, your best friend, was extremely concerned and rightfully so. she pauses mid-bite to give you the most confused face you’ve ever seen her make, and lowers her spoon. you stay staring at each other for a moment, and then she sighs and turns in her seat to face you, deadpanning, “you’ve gone mad, haven’t you?”

“what? no,” you drag out the ‘o’, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

jiyoon narrows her eyes at you. a bead of sweat drips down your temple; her death stare never fails to intimidate you. and so, you concede. somewhat. “okay, well, maybe a bit—but blackpink is touring soon! and i wanna get tickets for both of us…”

because of your reasoning, her gaze softens and your shoulders can finally untense. she takes the bite she didn’t get to eat earlier, and neatly arranges her silverware on the plate it came with from the café. “you’re not gonna make me go like always, are you..?”

“um…”

she politely smiles at you, leaving her share of the bill on the table and standing up. “kim y/n. i am not showing up to a shady cemetery gig you picked up.”)

true to her word, jiyoon unfortunately does not show up at the appointed time, and so you have to do this alone. at midnight. till five am. what a great life you’re living, right? walking around, alone, there’s something strange—all the tombstones are freshly cleaned. like, spotless; you see your own reflection in them when you point your 500 watt flashlight at them.

which is weird, because weren’t you hired to do just that? you even brought a bucket of water and cloths and new sponges, and cleaner fluid you bought specifically for this job. did your employer just randomly want to pay a burgeoning adult almost five hundred bucks for no reason? 

suddenly you’re aware of all of your surroundings. crickets chirp, and your only source of light is your flashlight and a single lamp post some feet away. you sense a presence lurking behind you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. ‘there shouldn’t be anyone here besides me, there shouldn’t be, oh shit. oh fuck, y/n, on a count of three you run back home as fast as you can. one…’

you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you don’t even turn around to see who or what it is because what the actual fuck, before you scream as loud as you can and alarm the figure who covers your mouth with their hand. you’re forcefully turned around, and—

“ji’hyoon!?” you attempt to exclaim, though your voice is muffled by her hand. she glares and shushes you, taking the hood off of her head.

“shut up, idiot, you’re disturbing the peace!” jiyoon scolds, furrowing her eyebrows at you. “and before you ask, yes i came to check up on you. no, it’s not because i missed you.”

aw, that’s sweet of her. but how did she- “i found this place because you literally texted me the details asking me to come,” she sighs, “it’s way too sketchy; i couldn’t let you go alone.”

you grin lopsidedly, “you’re a softie deep down, aren’t you, yoon jiyoon?”

she doesn’t answer and instead looks around, spotting the bucket of water and unused sponges by your feet. “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

oh, right. there isn’t really much to work on, though. you tell your best friend that, and she frowns in confusion, “wasn’t that your job, though?”

“what i’m saying, girl, why did that rich guy pay me so much if the job was already done?” you place your hands on your hips.

a rustling sound resounds through the air, making the both of you flinch aggressively. your eyes blink rapidly, countless thoughts of panic flooding your mind, “did you hear that?”

jiyoon is just as scared shitless as you, her hand shaking as she grabs yours and clenches the hold as hard as she can. 

a weak voice calls out from the direction of the graves, “help… help me…” 

without thinking, you make a run for it and drag your best friend with you, with only the intent to get as far away as you can. ‘screw the job, i want to live!’

“y/n!” jiyoon yelps in the midst of running, “if we die just know that i’ve loved you since middle school!”

the wild dash comes to a stop, and you have to keel over so you can heave your saving breaths. when you come to, you turn to jiyoon who’s in the same state, “you what!? you love me?” 

the girl’s mouth is agape, processing the words she rashly spat out in fear for her life. she shyly directs her gaze the other way, and mumbles something incoherent that you can’t catch. 

you manage to form a smile on your lips, trying to get her attention by snapping your fingers. except you can’t snap… so you have to clear your throat. “sorry, jiyoon. couldn’t quite hear you there.”

“i said yes! ugh…” she snaps, voice slightly raised a few octaves higher because of her bashfulness. the light of a lamp posts allows you to clearly see the red hot blush that has engulfed her cheeks.

“i’m glad that our life-or-death situation got you to finally confess, idiot,” you reach over to pull her into a playful, crushing hug. “i love you too.”

jiyoon melts into the embrace, sighing in relief from both the news of your reciprocation and the escape from the creepy cemetery. “those blackpink tickets better be worth it.”

“of course they will, i’m gonna get us front-row tickets—you know how good my reflexes are,” you quip, ruffling her hair.

the girl in your arms smiles, “then i trust you, kim y/n.”

“aww, so you are a softie deep down- ah, ahahaha! wait, wait, stop! i surrender, stop tickling me!”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : this was the most fun to write ilysm yoon jiyoonjiyoonjiyoonjiyoon

[ronnie-quinn]

The Tiniest Digital Circus

Book 1: Stitched With TLC (Tender Loving Care)

Chapter 1: The Big Test!

“Today’s adventure is…‘The Tiniest Adventure Ever!’” Caine announced to the circus members as the text—“The Tiniest Adventure Ever!”—appeared above him. The text was in alphabet blocks, and there were baby essentials around it.

The group stared blankly at the title.

“Is this some type of babysitting adventure?” Pomni questioned.

“Oh, God, I can’t stand kids…” Zooble rolled their eyes. “Last time we did a babysitting adventure, those little s**ts took my pieces and bit my arms.”

“Actually, you guys are the little ones!” Caine corrected before laughing maniacally.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jax asked.

“Each of you will be taking a classification test-”

“Wait, a test? We didn’t study for anything!” Kinger panicked.

“No need to worry! Classification tests aren't worth a grade per se. A classification test is a personality test to see where you fall under the age regression umbrella! ‘What is age regression?’, you may ask. From my digital research, age regression, a therapist-approved coping mechanism, is when an individual’s mind reverts back to a younger headspace due to trauma, stress, and more! Regressors do activities that they did when they were little, such as playing with toys, reading children’s books, coloring, anything that takes them down the memory lane! There’s not just age regressors, no, no. There are also age dreamers, pet regressors and dreamers, caregivers, flips, and more!”

The circus members looked at each other, then back at Caine, baffled at what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry, you want us to act like crybabies to cope with the adventures you’re giving us? It’s bad enough there’s already one right here,” Jax scoffed as he pointed at Gangle.

“I know that this seems strange, but for the past couple of adventures, you guys looked like you’ve gone through a little more than anticipated,” the ringmaster explained.

“A little?” Pomni raised her eyebrow.

“Which is why I have the perfect idea to help you calm your minds and revert back to simpler times after going on such big adventures!”

Caine snapped his fingers, making a portal appear. He then pushed the circus members into the portal, transporting them to an elementary school classroom. There were test packets on six desks.

“Can I skip out on this?” Zooble grumbled.

“Sorry, Zooble, but this adventure is mandatory for everyone.“

“Of course it is…”

“I promise that this coping mechanism will help you out in the long run. Besides, some of you might be caregivers, looking and caring after little ones,” Caine said as he snapped his fingers again, making anti-cheating folders appear on the six members’ desks. “Now, do your best, my magic xylophones, and answer honestly!”

Caine then exited the classroom as the portal closed up.

Pomni stared down at her test, which read “‘The Tiniest Adventure Ever!’ Classification Exam.”

“This adventure’s not going to have any of us scarred at the end, right?” The jester questioned Ragatha.

“Well, I’m not sure, but from what Caine explained, this is probably a lot more tame than what we’ve been through,” the ragdoll replied. “Even before you showed up, Pomni.”

“I still don’t know why we have to do this…” Zooble huffed. “Caine’s up to something.”

“You know, for once, I agree with you,” Jax stated. 

“I’m just hoping to God he’s not a f**king caregiver…”

“I don’t think Caine’s taking the test,” Kinger said. “He’s already busy with his ringmaster job.”

“Maybe this adventure could be fun,” Gangle assured.

“No one asked for your opinion, rugrat,” Jax said rudely.

“Will you shut the f**k up so we can get this stupid test over with?” Zooble glared.

“Why don’t you make me?”

“Guys, calm down,” Ragatha spoke up before any fight could ensue. “This is new for all of us, but there’s no reason for us to argue. Besides, this regression stuff doesn’t sound as bad as any of us think.”

Zooble and Jax rolled their eyes as everyone began taking the classification exam.

Pomni looked at the questions on her test.

“How do the adventures make you feel?” 

“What helps you calm down?” 

“What do your friends say about you?” 

“How do you like to ‘waste your time’?” 

The jester felt a pit in her stomach when she saw the first question. She could remember when she felt frightened when she first put on the headset. She could remember Caine taking her on an overwhelming tour of the circus. She could remember Kaufmo abstracting… Ragatha glitching out… Ragatha… Ragatha was the first person to help her calm down. She was her anchor when things got stormy. Pomni couldn’t remember if she had a family, but the ragdoll was like a mother figure to her. Ragatha forgave the jester when she abandoned her for the exit door on the first day. Pomni, however, felt like she didn’t deserve her forgiveness. She still doesn’t.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ragatha asked as she gently tapped Pomni on the shoulder. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Pomni replied. “It’s just the questions.”

“It’s okay. Just answer honestly and do your best, like Caine said.”

“Hey, Caine said no cheating,” Jax interrupted.

“No, he didn’t. Besides, we’re not cheating” Ragatha argued before turning back to Pomni and giving her a comforting smile. “Just don’t overthink it and answer the best to your ability.”

Pomni smiled back a little before returning to her test.

————————————

The next day, everyone was relaxing in the main room, talking amongst themselves.

“Mail’s here! Mail’s here!” Bubble announced as he appeared out of nowhere, startling everyone.

“Your results from yesterday’s test came in, my curious caterpillars!” Caine added as he arrived. The ringmaster snapped his fingers, making six colorful envelopes appear. He then handed the envelopes to the circus members. “I want to say that no matter where you are under the regression umbrella, you deserve tremendous amounts of love and support!“

The circus members opened their envelopes, their reactions being mixed. Pomni, Jax, and Zooble were shocked by their results, Gangle and Kinger were content with theirs, and Ragatha was a bit stunned with hers.

————

Pomni - Regressor (65%), Sibby (35%)

Ragatha - Flip: Caregiver/Guardian (50%), Babysitter (33%), Regressor (17%)

Gangle - Regressor (50%), Pet - Turtle (50%)

Kinger - Caregiver (40%), Guardian (30%), Babysitter (30%)

Jax - Regressor (55%), Sibby (45%)

Zooble - Flip: Babysitter (50%), Regressor (50%)

Divider by @abc-pupy

[ghostofskywalker]

May I please request something where the (gn preferably) reader breaks their glasses during a mission so tech makes them a pair of goggles like his?

anon this is actually the cutest idea ever and as someone whose eyesight is terrible without my contacts (i used to wear glasses but not as much anymore) i understand the struggle <3

words: 2,454

summary: when an accident on the marauder leaves you without your glasses for an unknown period of time, tech takes matters into his own hands and makes you a replacement pair of goggles that match his own.

clone troopers masterlist

Seeing Double

“Kriff!” you swore slightly louder than you originally wanted to, but in your defense, this situation warranted it.

“Everything okay?” Hunter’s voice echoed from the device on your wrist, and it was at that point that you realized you had apparently forgotten to mute yourself on the comms, so the entire squad had just heard your outburst.

“Yeah, just that my glasses broke,” you said, trying to find collect the pieces from the dashboard of the Marauder. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that it was currently nighttime and you needed them to see where you were going.

“Can you still steer the ship?’ Echo’s voice came through the device next. “We’re going to need a pickup soon.”

You weren’t too confident about your abilities at this point, but you also couldn’t let the team down. “It’ll be fine for a little while, but once you get back someone else needs to handle the controls.”

“Alright, as long as you don’t need one of us to go back there now.”

That was the last thing you wanted, because you were still a new member of the team and you definitely didn’t want them to think you weren’t capable. “No, just let me know when and where you need to be picked up from.”

The communication device went silent not long after that, and you were left to sit down in the pilot’s seat and attempt to repair your glasses. The actual lenses themselves seemed to still be intact, but one of the supports that rested behind your ear had come off (due to the fact that they had fallen to the floor and you stepped on the one side before you realized what had happened). But there was one flaw when it came to attempting to appraise the damage, and that was the fact that when they weren’t on your face, you couldn’t see all that well.

You weren’t blind per se (they had let you into the GAR after looking at your eye charts and seeing the glasses you wore every day), but you certainly didn’t see the world in high resolution when you didn’t have the lenses on your face. You had previously considered those tiny clear things that you saw friends put into their eyes, that would completely negate the need for you to wear glasses, but at the same time the idea of putting your fingers too close to your eye was a little bit nerve wracking (you knew the process certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart).

And you hadn’t experienced any issues with your glasses interfering with your work so far, or at least, not until now. Clone Force 99 had accepted you with open arms (well, it had taken a while in the case of one particularly grumpy sniper) when you had been assigned to them. Your technical title was “medic,” although you were also well-versed in mechanics and was qualified enough to repair the ship if necessary. You sometimes wondered if that acceptance had something to do with the fact that one of the members of the squad also wore lenses of some kind on his face, and if was, you were grateful to Tech.

If asked, you would probably cite Tech as your favorite member of the squad, and it wasn’t just because of your shared facial accessory. Even if you didn’t know whether or not his goggles were prescription or he just simply wore them for convenience, the two of you got along fairly well, which was a surprise because you were essentially assigned to them to do some of Tech’s job. But even though others might have seen you as a threat, you and the squad’s resident genius worked well together.

Bringing your focus back to the situation at hand, you realized that there was going to be no way to reattach the arm of your glasses without some kind of bonding agent (due to the place that the material had fractured and split apart when you stepped on it), and you gently pulled them up to your face. They certainly drooped on the side that had no support, but you would be able to see well enough to fly the ship for a few minutes until someone else could take over.

And it was a good thing that you could see at all, because the batch radioed in just a few minutes later, sending you a set of coordinates and telling you to step on it because they had met some hostiles.

Getting in the air was the easy part, but a flying animal that came out of nowhere shocked you to the point where you had to stop short, and your glasses came flying off your head. There was nothing you could do but watch as they clattered down the dashboard of the ship and once again fell and skittered across the floor, so far out of your reach that you knew there was no chance you could recover them before you had to move again. Instead, you would be flying blind (in the literal sense of the expression).

You were sure that the rest of the squad could tell that something was up when they saw the ship arrive at the coordinates, flying slightly tilted and having stopped short before you extended the ramp for them to get in. “Can someone come up here and take the controls?” you called out.

No one answered, but soon footsteps approached the cockpit and you turned around to see Tech walking towards you with his helmet under his arm. You stood up to greet him, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, the sound of transparisteel breaking filled the space, and the two of you looked down in horror as Tech lifted up his boot slightly to reveal your glasses, now completely shattered beyond repair. “Oh my,” he said as he looked at the carnage on the floor. “I deeply apologize, I did not know that was there.”

“It’s okay,” you said, still in some form of shock, but you didn’t want to make Tech feel bad over something he couldn’t control. “It wasn’t your fault, we’ll just need to put in an order with the Republic for some new glasses the next time we reach out to them.”

“That may be quite a while,” Tech responded, having reached down to collect the bent and disfigured remains of the glasses frame off the floor. “I may be able to-”

“Tech,” you cut him off gently, and he looked up at you as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal, I’ll be able to survive without them for a little while.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up. “In the meantime, you should rest. The assignment was a success and I will fly the ship until we stop for fuel or the next mission objective comes in.”

You just nodded and headed off to the bunks. You knew that sometimes if you went for a while without your glasses it could lead to headaches as your eyes strained to perform their usual function, so you wanted to avoid that as much as you possibly could (especially if you weren’t going to get new ones for a while). And as you drifted off to sleep to the sound of Gonky moving across the ship in the background, you really hoped that you’d be able to contact the Republic soon.

***

As he watched you leave the room, Tech couldn’t help but feel bad. You had assured him that none of this was his fault and that you weren’t angry at him, but he also knew how stressful it was to be living a life without corrective lenses when your eyesight was not that good. He had seen your glasses before and guessed that your level of nearsightedness was similar to his, and he would never want to spend any amount of time without his goggles, let alone an uncertain and extended period of it. He cleaned the small pile of debris off the floor and placed them in a small container once the ship had entered hyperspace, and for a while he just watched the blue streaks pass him by.

And it was as he watched out through the windshield of the ship that he had an idea.

His goggles were a thing of his own creation, and sometimes different parts needed replacing. Because of that, he had began keeping a small box of parts and pieces on the ship, with enough to make at least two other sets (just in case his primary pair was ruined beyond repair). If your prescription was similar to his, you might be able to wear a matching pair of goggles for a while, or at least until they could contact the Republic and order new glasses for you.

Right as he got up from the pilot’s seat, Hunter stepped into the cockpit. “Oh good, I was just about to call for you,” Tech said. “Can you watch the ship for a little while? I have something urgent to attend to.”

Hunter just nodded, and Tech was thankful that his brother didn’t ask too many questions so he couldn’t be slowed down. He wanted to have them ready for you by the time he next saw you, this way you didn’t have to go too long without any kind of visual aid.

He found the box of parts under his bunk, and after checking to make sure you were asleep in yours, he got to work, pulling the curtain around his cot to keep some privacy about what he was doing.

The shattered pieces of your original lenses turned out to be of some use to him, because he was able to calibrate the goggles to perfectly match your needs. It was much easier than he originally thought it might be, and by the time he could hear movement from outside his bunk, he was just putting the finishing touches on the goggles.

Wondering whether it was you or Wrecker that had woken up, he poked his head out to see you yawn and stretch. Quietly calling your name as to not startle you, Tech got out of bed and beckoned at you to follow him. “Is everything okay?” you asked, blinking as a brighter part of the ship came into view, and Tech quickly moved the hand that was holding the goggles behind his back so you couldn’t see what they were.

“I still feel terrible about your glasses,” he said. You opened your mouth (no doubt to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault), but he held up one of his hands to stop you and the other with the pair of newly constructed goggles in it. “And since I know the repercussions of spending extended periods of time without them, I made you something. I apologize if it is not a style you like, but I only had the materials to reconstruct my goggles and I figured it was better than nothing.”

You were silent as you took the goggles from his outstretched hand, but from the smile on your face, Tech knew that you weren’t spurning his gift. “Thank you,” you eventually said as you placed them on your face. “I love them.”

“I was able to use my scanner to match and calibrate this pair to the same level of magnification as your glasses,” he said.

You nodded, looking around the ship. “Thank you so much Tech. I really can’t believe you would do something like this, I’m so grateful.”

Tech went to respond, but you pulled him into a hug before he could get any words out. “You are very welcome,” he eventually managed to say.

“If you ever need anything from me,” you said. “Please don’t hesitate-”

He cut you off before you could finish your sentence. “I don’t want you to think that you are somehow in debt to me,” he said. “I did this because I wanted to help you, not because I wanted to gain something.”

For a fleeting moment, you looked like you were going to cry, and Tech’s eyes widened as you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, your goggles knocking slightly against his. “I know,” you said. “But still, I want to thank you somehow. Maybe if we can get away from your brothers, I can take you out to dinner the next time we’re on Coruscant?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Those words were accompanied by a surprised (and hopeful) expression. He had of course taken you in as a member of the team, but it had recently been more apparent to him that how he felt about you was different than how he felt towards other people. He had always hoped that you felt the same way, but was never sure how to broach the topic.

“Yes,” you said, a smile on your face. “Are you accepting?”

“Yes.”

Tech stared at you for a moment, and you stared right back. He started to lean in, and you mirrored his movements. He was just finishing up calculations on how to best kiss you without bumping either set of goggles when he heard footsteps approaching, and he instinctively pulled back.

You apparently had the same idea, and the two of you turned in shock to stare at Hunter, who had just stepped out of the cockpit and had an exasperated look on his face. Whatever hope Tech had of keeping this new relationship development a secret was now completely dead, because with Hunter’s enhanced hearing he must have been able to hear everything before this moment.

And with the two of you wearing both matching expressions and goggles, it must have been a sight to behold for his brother. Hunter opened his mouth, but then closed it before taking a breath. “I’m going to take a nap,” is what he eventually settled on. “Can you two watch the cockpit?”

Tech was halfway through a confirmation of Hunter’s request before his brother had walked completely past them to disappear in the direction of the bunks, and right as he disappeared you quickly leaned in to place a soft (and far too quick, in his opinion) kiss on Tech’s lips.

The cockpit offered a better view anyway, and although it wasn’t completely shielded from his brothers, it was much more private than just standing in the middle of the ship. They didn’t have a lot of time before everyone else woke up and their little secret spread like wildfire through the ship, and Tech wanted to make the most of the peace and quiet.

- the end -

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[onthinice-k]

Little Do You Know - F. Andersen

It’s finally done! This fic was written for the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston and is for @mp0625. It was a nice challenge to write a reader insert for the first time, I had a lot of fun creating this story and I hope you enjoy readiit just as much!

Also, everyone be warned, I didn’t look at a single calendar or any actual game scores. I just did what felt right and hoped for the best. Also, don’t think too closely about the reader’s job. I have no idea how it actually works, I just put a lot of imagination and confidence into writing it. There also is a guest appearance of Seth Jarvis.

Summary: Suddenly working for the Carolina Hurricanes wasn't how you'd thought your year would end. Everything that followed was just as surprising.

Pairing: Frederik Andersen x f!reader (no mentions of y/n)

Words: 11.9k (I’m sorry, this was planned to be like 3k words at most?? I have no idea what happend)

Warnings: a few swear words? Reader is described as shorter than Freddy, otherwise no physical descriptions. It might sound just a little angsty at the beginning, but it's really not; mostly fluff and maybe some light hurt/comfort

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Jane's grin should have been enough to make you suspicious.

It was one evening, after another long shift at work and overtime that you would probably never see the pay for.

Even without looking at her, you knew the look Jane would give you. One of those pitying ones that made you a little more defensive than you should’ve been - a constant reminder that perhaps the year hadn't exactly been perfect.

But that didn't automatically mean Jane was right. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, you had once tried to tell her once. You were happy. No, really.

Sure, the breakup at the beginning of the year had been long and accompanied by a lot of shouting and tears. At the beginning you had been so sure that he was the one - only to be disappointed once again a few months later. But you could always use that as a learning experience, couldn’t you? Jane didn't know what she was talking about when she’d said that you seemed lonely sometimes. Better alone than with the wrong person, right?

And sure, the water damage to the apartment wasn't ideal either. But at least the only thing that couldn’t be saved was the kitchen. Everything else just needed time to dry and, well, maybe a new coat of paint. Two weeks later you had managed to find a new place to move into with your best friend, Jane.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong about your job being more than miserable. Seemingly endless overtime and the salary just enough to make ends meet.

Maybe Jane had a point, even though you hated to admit it.

You weren't unhappy per se. But maybe, just maybe, there was still room for improvement.

And now it was December.

Jane had gotten a telltale glint in her eyes when you both realized that. Less than four weeks left to end the year on a good note.  Or maybe you should just wait for the next one and hope it’ll get better. So, with a shrug of your shoulders, you'd put the thought aside for the moment.

Her grin should’ve made you suspicious. But instead, it was already forgotten by the next morning.

–   

"Jane!" Your voice was far too loud considering she was sitting barely a meter away.

"Hm?" Jane looked up from her book, confused, maybe a little worried. You weren’t paying enough attention right not to get a good read on her expression.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Even after reading the text for the third time, you wanted to pinch yourself. Hard. This had to be a strange dream.

The words blinking up at you from the screen seemed unbelievable.

"Did you- Did you submit my application with- to the- the Carolina Hurricanes?!"

Jane seemed to process your words in her head. Then understanding began to spread across her face.

Your mouth kept opening and closing, but no words came out. You didn't even know what you would have, should’ve, said. What was a normal response in this situation?

Jane straightened up a little and leaned toward you. She was looking over your shoulder at the laptop.

"Oh, they were faster than I expected."

"How... What..."

Sure, you'd complained to her just the other day that the youth team you'd applied to had suddenly realized they didn't have the budget for a full-time position after all. The interview at the equipment store on the other side of town left a lot to be desired after their first question was how much overtime you could put in per month.

But this? You’d never have expected that.

"Are you crazy?" Your voice was still unexpectedly shrill.

“It’s not a rejection letter”, she sounded a little too proud for your liking.

You squinted your eyes at her.

“Then I would’ve killed you. After burying myself out of embarrassment.”

"Oh, come on. You have to admit, it sounds perfect for you," Jane simply shrugged her shoulders. Leaning back again, she looked a lot calmer than you felt.

Nevertheless, you did have to admit that it sounded almost perfect. Often you had helped out with the equipment in small teams in the past and had always enjoyed the work. It was close to the action without being in the foreground.

But still.

"I can't believe you." You slumped back against the couch and ran your fingers through your hair. "This is crazy. You’re crazy..."

Jane sighed. "Hey, if you're not interested, don't answer." Then she turned back to her book.

She made it sound so easy.

"I didn't say that!" you defended yourself immediately.

Jane snorted, then at least a brief twitch of the corner of her mouth.

–  

Your hands were shaking as you pushed open the nondescript door. It had all happened so fast.

Someone had called you the very next morning.

It was all so unbelievable that you could barely remember the phone call.

 "It's a temporary position, but it needs to be filled quickly," the man on the phone had said, that much you could recall - immediately followed by the question of when you could start.

Apparently, someone had gotten sick after they were already understaffed and so they urgently needed someone to fill in.

Your experience at the small hockey center in your hometown had probably paid off after all. While growing up you had helped the coach, who trained the children’s hobby group, with the equipment.

In return, he always gave you old skates and sticks that were once forgotten by someone and never got picked up so you could try them out during your own team’s training.

Maybe they also decided on you because they just didn’t have many applicants with previous experience of any level available at such short notice. But who knew. And really, you didn’t really care either way.

Especially as just a few hours after the call you were now following hurriedly written down directions through the corridors of the arena that you had previously only seen as a visitor. 

Anthony, whose first words had been "Call me Tony", had been awaiting you already. His tour of the most important rooms was not only packed with way too much information but also constantly interrupted by other people’s questions and demands.

Nevertheless, Tony remained friendly and patient with them as well as you, even when you had forgotten which direction you had come from for the third time in a row. Once or twice, he might even have stifled an amused grin.

"Let me just show you the storage rooms and then..."

"Anthony," an older man interrupted from the side. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

An official-looking ID was hanging around his neck.

Tony grimaced at the use of his full name.

"What is it now?" he asked, barely able to hide his annoyed voice under a wavering polite smile. It was the first time you'd seen Tony anything other than friendly today. It was almost weird.

The man didn't really look at Tony, but rather past him, even though the words were clearly directed at Tony. "The sticks are all mixed up." The accusatory tone in his voice was clear, as if Tony had personally caused the mess.

"We don't know what belongs to whom."

Tony sighed. "Of course, you don't", he muttered so quietly that only you could hear the words. However, the other man would have been able to see the hint of an eye roll hadn’t he turned away again, apparently to grumble at the next person.

"Don't let Mike intimidate you," Tony explained, turning back to you, "in case he ever snaps at you. He likes to feel more important than he is." He rolled his eyes with a wry grin.

Someone hesitantly tapped Tony’s shoulder. This time a young man, who looked like he'd just graduated high school.

"Sorry, I know you're busy - I don't mean to interrupt - but, uh, a strap on a goalie pad broke."

Anthony ran a hand over his forehead. "Another one? Shit."  He exhaled noisily. "That's the third one in two days. It has to be a production error. Has the manufacturer responded to the complaint yet?"

The boy's eyes widened, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Mike called impatiently for Anthony from the next room. Torn, he turned briefly at the voice, then looked back at the boy next to him. "They probably need the goalies for training right now?"

The boy nodded shyly: "They said it was urgent."

Anthony sighed again.

Then he looked at you with a wry grin: "Looks like you'll get something to do sooner than expected."

He got handed a paper from someone walking past him. While searching for something on it he continued talking.

"We only have a few pads left in stock. The new order hasn't arrived yet and we need the ones we still have for the game tonight. Do you know how to sew?" He looked up.

"A little?" Your grandparents had taught you a long time ago, but it wasn't something you had to do regularly in your daily life.

"Great, that should be enough for now. It doesn't have to be pretty, as long as it does the job."

Anthony patted you on the back approvingly. Then he left you standing alone in the hallway, his exit accompanied by another long "Anthony" yell.

You were left standing there. Uncertainly you looked at the young man next to you.

He shrugged his shoulders just as unsure. He murmured quietly: "In that room over there." With a finger, he pointed at a door.

Well, then you should probably get to work. 'That room over there' really wasn't hard to find. It was only a few meters away.

What you didn't expect, however, was to almost walk into a huge man as soon as you entered the room. You always knew that hockey players tended to be quite tall, but it still took you by surprise.

You had to tilt your head back to look the man in the face. Of course, having lived here long enough you knew all the players on the team, at least by name. You weren't some crazy fan but at least invested enough to watch the games whenever you had the time. For your last birthday you had even gotten tickets to watch one live in the arena. It had been great.

Now you were faced with a certain goalie. Stubborn ginger strands fell into his face, his cheeks slightly flushed from training or the cold. Television did not do him justice at all.

Stay professional, you had to order yourself. This was your job. You couldn't mess it up, especially not on the first day.

Frederik looked up. He ran his eyes over your form for a moment. Then he tilted his head. "You're not Tony," his voice sounded unexpectedly soft.

"Oh, uh, no. I'm new here. First day today." Wow, very smooth. Good job.

If Freddie thought the same, he didn't let on. Quite the opposite. He openly watched you, his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "Well, in that case. Welcome."

You mumbled a "Thank you."

A brief silence filled the room. While you reminded yourself to get yourself under control, you could still feel his appraising gaze on you - not hostile, just curious.

"How do you like it so far?" You could see little lines forming around his eyes as he smiled at you.

"I mean, a map would be helpful. All these corridors are like a labyrinth," you tried to joke.

Freddie laughed. "Oh yeah. You don't want to know how many times I got lost in here at first."

Maybe he was just saying that to make you feel better. However, you decide not to question it and just let the words calm you down a little.

"Are you almost done?" a woman poked her head into the room. Her stern features were emphasized by her narrow glasses. She reminded you of a strict principal scowling at running students.

You were almost certain you'd seen her in the corridors earlier today. Maybe Tony had told you her name and position, but if so, you'd already forgotten again. For the first dozen names you had made an honest effort to memorize them. The numerous ones following after that were buried in the sea of information that had poured in on you in a very short space of time.

"Oh yes, almost done," you grinned at the woman as convincingly as possible.

With a skeptical look, she let her eyes wander back and forth between Freddie, you and finally the pad, still hanging down loosely on his leg.

"Hurry up”, she ordered. You nodded dutifully.

When she had disappeared again, you breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes had literally bored right through you and left you feeling a little uncomfortable. Freddie had squirmed under her eyes just as much.

You didn’t want to risk her turning up here again.

"I think I'll go and get some stuff. To fix that."

Freddie nodded patiently.

Huh.

Well. There was just one problem.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they store needles around here, would you?"

Again, the corners of his mouth pulled to the side in amusement. "Aren't you the one working here?" He was obviously just teasing you, but your cheeks immediately felt a little warmer, nevertheless.

"Right."

In the end, Freddie did help by searching through the drawers in the small cupboard behind him while you examined the rest of the room.

Once needle and thread were found, the work was done quickly. The strap was tight again. It should hold on for the next few hours at least. The stern-looking woman had walked past the room a few more times – more than necessary in your opinion – as you had noticed out of the corner of your eye. However, she had not re-entered the room.

Freddie and you had had some simple conversations on the side so the work had gone by quickly. He had asked your name and where you came from.

All in all, your first job could have gone a lot worse. You were almost a little proud of yourself.

Maybe this was all quite doable after all.

-

It was terrible.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd walked so much, feeling your feet ache with every more step you took. By the time just half of your shift had been over, your legs were already heavy.

Once the game had started, the processes seemed a lot more structured.

The rather hectic running around of the afternoon was replaced by a lot of counting and carrying things from one place to another.

With all the work, you almost missed the end of the game completely.

However, the disappointment was hard to miss. It put deep creases in everyone’s faces; reflected in the way shoulders slumped and voices were muffled.

Losing again after a long winning streak probably always hit everyone hard.

Tony and you got handed the equipment to be washed and dried.

At least one thing hadn't changed though. All sorts of people still wanted something from Tony. He had mumbled to you "I'll be back in a moment", only to definitely not come back after a moment.

Afraid of getting lost for good, you decided to wait here for him anyway.  

Everyone around you seemed to have clear tasks that they were silently following. It was almost strange to see the corridors so quiet, in contrast to a few hours earlier.

No matter where you stood, you had the feeling that you were interfering with the routines of other workers and so you gradually ended up further and further to the end of the narrow hallway. Not knowing exactly where you were was nothing new today. However, this time you were pretty sure this corner hadn’t been in Tony’s tour. 

One by one, players came around a corner. They walked past you individually or in small groups. Very few of them probably really noticed you. Their mood was also noticeably subdued.

You weren't entirely sure whether you were happy to see Freddie again as he slowly stepped around the corner, or whether you would’ve preferred not to see the disappointed look on his face.

You gave him what you hoped was an encouraging smile.

For a brief moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, a hint of a crooked grin as he had almost passed you, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again.

He exhaled forcefully. The heaviness in his eyes returned.

With a long breath, you watched his slowly shrinking figure.

No longer could you stand being in the hallway. You had seen enough disappointed faces for one day. A door caught your eye. It was held open by a chair jammed into the doorway. The cool light falling through the opening was brighter than the ceiling lights.

You dared to take one last look over your shoulder, Freddie had already disappeared from your view. And there was still no sign of Tony. So, you crossed the corridor with slow steps.

The door led directly to the spectator stands. It had apparently been opened after everyone had left the arena.

You let yourself fall against the door frame.

After a quick glance over the seating area, your gaze fell onto the ice surface. Your heart ached in your chest. Before, you hadn't realized how much you missed being on the ice yourself - or you had successfully pushed it to the back of your mind. Only now, when you were so close to it, did the longing come back to you in full force.

"Do you have skates?" The voice so close to your ear made you jump. Lost deep in thought you hadn’t noticed when Tony had appeared next to you.

"What?"

"Do you have skates," he repeated more slowly, "I have to be honest. I'd be a bit disappointed if I had to find out like this that you don't own any." He flashed an amused grin at you.

You frowned. "Yes, of course. I mean, I have relatives in Canada. They'd probably disown me if I didn't."

"Then what's stopping you from taking a few laps on the ice?"

He shrugged as if it were that simple. It couldn't be that simple.

"What? But no, I can't do that..." You found it difficult to find the right words. You didn't even know what you were trying to say yourself.

"The way you look at the ice longingly, it'll melt away otherwise," Tony teased.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "No, but really. Is that allowed?"

"Yep," Tony pointed over his shoulder. "Back there on the list are the times when the ice is free. As long as you don't mind the ice not being fresh, of course."

You could hardly believe what Tony was telling you. There was actually a possibility that you could skate on the ice? It’d been so long since you had skates on your feet. It’s been even longer since you’d last held a hockey stick.

When you thought about what it would be like to practice again after so long, a yearning overcame you.

"Nobody else usually uses it on Mondays and Wednesdays." Tony gave you a significant look.

-

The ice had obviously been heavily used. It couldn't have bothered you less.

The first step on the ice was shakier than you expected. And it still felt so relieving. Like rediscovering one of your favorite childhood sweets years later. Or finding change in your pockets that you’d already forgotten about.

Your face beamed with joy, becoming more relaxed with every step. After two laps around the arena, it felt as familiar as before. Your chest rose and fell at a fast pace.

Even after another ten minutes, you were still alone on the ice. When Tony had said no one else usually used the free ice time on Mondays, he hadn't been exaggerating.

You were still a little unsure before, but now you took the stick you had brought with you and a few pucks that were still in a bucket on the side from the last training session.

The last time you’d played hockey was even longer ago than the last time you’d skated. So, it wasn't surprising that you missed the net a lot the first few tries. The times you did hit the goal, however, felt all the better.

The skillful shots from your youth, when you still had time to go to training regularly, no longer worked nearly as well. In the past, you could’ve done them blindfolded.

Adult responsibilities however got in the way at some point, so you were glad that you were still able to attend a hobby group at least once a month until last year. And it paid off. After a short time, the stick no longer felt so strange in your hand. Maybe Hockey was a bit like riding a bike. You would never quite forget how to do it.

You almost missed the other person coming onto the ice.

Even without his number on his back, you could’ve identified him without a doubt. To be fair, there probably weren't that many people walking around in professional goalie gear. Especially those with access to the ice and a Canes logo on their chest.

Without a doubt: Frederik Andersen had just stepped onto the ice. The exact ice you were standing on.

Uncertain you looked back and forth between the exit and him. You were sure you hadn't misread the time on the list. The clock on the wall also told you that you hadn't just been here much longer than you thought.

Still, should you leave the ice? If he was here, he probably wanted to practice. You'd just get in the way.

After the game on your first day on the job, the Canes lost two more games. And as always happens, critical voices immediately got loud on the internet. Even if you hadn't looked any further, you could imagine what they said about Freddie – hopefully, he followed the media team's advice not to read any of it.

Freddie looked at you for a moment. Then he crossed the ice. However, instead of heading for the other half of the ice as you’d have expected, his path led straight into the net on your side.

Fascinated, you watched as he stretched and moved in quick order. Finally, he straightened up again, leaned forward and tapped the ice several times with his stick.

You looked at him in confusion. But when he then flicked a puck across the rink towards you with his stick, it was a more than clear invitation.

In this moment you were so glad to have had some time to warm up before he arrived.

Your first shots at the net were careful. And apparently, they were way too predictable and easy for Freddie, as he blocked each of them with ease. He didn't even look strained in the slightest.

You took it as a challenge.

The next shots were more confident. You even started to skate a few steps towards the net on each of them, instead of standing rigidly in the middle of the ice.

However, after a lost puck on the way to the net elicited a playfully disappointed shake of the head from Freddie, you made it your mission to mix in a particularly bad shot every few tries. Freddie’s reaction made it more than worth it.

If you looked very closely, you imagined you could even see the smirk under his mask every time.

In the end, you didn't know how long you’d played for.

When Freddie pushed his mask up, a few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead. His features were more relaxed than any of the last times you'd seen him here. It looked good on him.

As you went your separate ways again, he gently nudged you with his shoulder. The smile lingered on your lips for a long time.

– 

"Do you think the small suitcase will be enough for three days?"

Jane looked at you over her shoulder. "Are you going on a trip? Without me?" She clutched her chest dramatically.

"There are a few away games coming up. And I'm supposed to come with them”, you explained. Your nerves must be written all over your face.

"Not that I think I'm really going to be that much help.", you added.

You had only just started to feel like you were slowly getting used to the work in the arena. By now, you could count on one hand how many times you got lost in the seemingly never-ending hallways of the arena in a shift. Even all the tasks no longer appeared as overwhelming as they did at the beginning.

Still, it had taken you days to even come close to finding your way around the arena. Even now, you kept discovering new rooms that you had never seen before.

Now, arriving in a completely foreign arena? You'd never seen how away games were run behind the scenes. And now you were supposed to help out yourself. Over the last days carefully established routines to make work easier would have to be broken again.

"Oh yeah, I totally forgot that you're super important now," she teased.

As if. "Hardly. More like the assistant to the assistant."

As you turned back to your bedroom, Jane called after you: "I’m sure it won't be as bad as you think."

Packing took longer than expected. This was probably partly due to the fact that you kept placing stuff in your suitcase just to take it out again minutes later. Should you pack a fifth sweater after all? Would one spare pair of pants be enough or maybe take the black ones with you as well?

By the time you had loaded your bags into your car, you were on the verge of being late. Enough time for you to arrive on time, not enough to get stuck in traffic or spend ages looking for a parking space.

However, you didn’t even get that far.

Your car made a tired stuttering noise before it fell silent again. The same sound was heard on the second attempt. By the third turn of the key, your fingers were already getting clammy.

"Damn it. That can't be true now." Try again. This time the engine only made a muffled scraping sound.  "No, no, no!"

You dropped your head against the steering wheel. Frustration rose up inside you.

Another sharp turn. Your hand clutched the armrest. You preferred not to look too closely at the speed limit. Jane ignored your pointed glances toward her anyway - and today, at least, you were almost glad of her habit of speeding.

The bags on the back seat were a heavy reminder in the corner of your eye.

You almost felt like you were back in your teenage years, being driven around by your parents and older friends. Then the airport finally came into view.

Jane parked and let you out. A car honked behind you. Quickly you thanked her and got out of the car.

You didn't know how, but you were still on time.

–    

After the flight, it was a blessing to arrive at the hotel room.

The room was small, had a strange orange wall color and a dubious stain on the floor that you strictly avoided stepping on. But at least you had the room to yourself. Reason enough to breathe a sigh of relief.  

In the evening, you fell into bed early, exhausted from the day. Sending a photo of your room to Jane would have to wait until tomorrow.

The next morning, you were awake long before your alarm clock. You didn't know who exactly was in the room next to you, but whoever it was had started snoring loudly at some point.

Even after a while, you couldn't fall back asleep. You were slow to pull yourself out of the warmth of your bed, but happy to escape the constant noise. So, you got ready for the day.

When you arrived in the breakfast room with a sectioned-off area for the team and players, the buffet had only just been opened. Apart from you, there was only one other person here so far, who ignored you as politely as you ignored them.

Most people would probably eat later. The game wasn't until late afternoon, so there was no rush to prepare, and morning skate wasn't scheduled for a few hours, as you’d heard.

With a full plate, you sat down at one of the many empty tables. While you ate, you checked your messages.

Jane had texted you last night to tell you that she’d taken your car to the mechanic. Already, they had sent you an email with a list of what needed to be repaired. Your hope that it would only be just a minor repair instantly vanished as you saw the length of the list.

You gulped a second time at the amount at the bottom of the mail.

Shit. That would easily consume an entire month's salary. You dropped your forehead to your hands.

"Does breakfast in general make you unhappy or is it this one in particular?" The chair next to you was pulled back. A certain ginger goalie fell into the seat.

You couldn't suppress a faint snort.

"I wouldn't count my car as breakfast," you tried to joke. Just the thought of your car made you grimace again.

"Oh," his brow furrowed gently. "That doesn't sound good?"

"Yeah. I mean, it has made a weird noise for a while now, should’ve known something like this would happen eventually. I just hoped to have a little more time before having to get it repaired."

Groaning you let your head fall into your hands again. Freddie shook his head, an amused glint in his eyes.

Then he seemed to have another thought.

“Wait, so how did you get to the airport?”

“Oh, I had someone drive me.” You turned your head to look at him.

“Boyfriend?" Maybe it was just hopeful wishing, the way Freddie's eyebrows drew down a touch further. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

"My roommate, Jane." After short consideration, you also added: “Don’t think my ex would’ve even bothered to drive me.” You couldn't see Freddie’s face at that moment as your eyes were drawn to a new incoming message. Just Jane complaining about the weather.

“That sounds like there’s a story.”

You snorted. “Not a good one.”

Freddie seemed to get the drift. He did however furrow his brows slightly and asked slowly: "Wait, how are you getting home then?"

You could almost have sworn that Freddie was sitting closer than at the beginning.

To be honest, you hadn't really thought about it yourself. "Probably an Uber or...?" you mumbled but didn't finish the thought.

Someone from the marketing team - Angela? Angelica? Angeline? - sat down on a chair opposite you.

The conversation was paused for now. Instead, the blonde woman chattered away happily as you just nodded at the appropriate times.

You hadn't noticed when the room had started to become so crowded.

–  

When they’d said: "I have an exciting task for you today", you hadn't thought that cleaning helmets would be a big part of it.

Being allowed to take on more tasks on your own was wonderful. And you were grateful.

There were various parts on a few of the helmets that needed to be replaced or checked. By itself a nice and relaxing work. However, having to polish helmets had always been very low on your list of favorite activities. And today you had to clean every single one after the repairs.

One by one, some players arrived to collect their helmets for training themselves. Others were picked up and taken away by staff on their way past. By the time the last helmet was shiningly clean, there were only three left on the table next to you, waiting to be picked up.

And, well, one of them was a beautifully painted goalie mask of a very specific goalie.

Another player came to collect his helmet. You immediately suppressed the disappointment that welled up in your stomach when you realized who was coming through the door. Or rather, the disappointment at who it wasn't.

He was friendly, exchanged a few brief words with you and finally thanked you before disappearing again.

And then, Freddie came into the room. You almost missed it over your struggle of trying to get a new rag from the top shelf.

“Let me help you”, the deep voice from behind surprised you.  

He probably could’ve stepped around you and still reached the pile of rags easily enough. However, Freddie appeared behind you, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

Even after grabbing the desired item, he didn’t step back a whole lot, stayed close. If you would’ve wanted to you could’ve taken a step to the side. There was more than enough space and even if there wasn’t you knew Freddie would’ve moved immediately and apologized if you’d asked. But you didn’t.

You stayed exactly where you were.

The air between you felt almost charged. You wanted to see what Freddie’d do. You didn’t get the chance to.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come when the door was pushed open. You both jumped.

Until now you’d only seen Seth Jarvis occasionally from a distance in the hallways. Apart from that, you haven't had much to do with him yet.

The first thing you noticed about him today was that he was already holding his helmet in his hands. It was hanging over two fingers as if he had forgotten he even had it. You dimly remembered giving it to one of the employees not long ago.

You looked down at him once with furrowed brows. The rest of his equipment looked complete too and in working order.

Freddie huffed.

Seth's gaze flitted back and forth between him and you. A far too pleased grin began to grow on his face.

For a few seconds, his gaze stayed wandering between you two.

Finally, you broke the silence when it didn’t seem as if he intended to say anything.

"Is there… A problem with your helmet?"

Seth blinked at you. Then he followed your gaze down to his hands.

He shook his head, almost confused by your question. "No, everything's fine."

Okay? Then he probably hadn’t returned for that.

"Then... Anything else I can help you with?" you continued to ask.

He looked down at himself once more and seemed to think for a moment. Freddie started to speak, a meaningful glint in his eyes: "I'm sure it isn't-"

Somehow that just made Seth’s mischievous grin reappear.

He interrupted Freddie: "Hm, I don't know," he thought slowly, "My shin pad has been kind of weird these last few days and…"

Freddie scowled at him. But Seth didn't let it bother him at all. On the contrary, his grin widened a little more.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. There seemed to be some kind of silent communication between the two.

Finally, Seth concluded: "But it's not really that bad.”

So, you were back to square one.

"Then, anything else I can help you with?"

Seth’s answer came too quickly: "I guess I forgot why I came here. Can’t have been that important."

Turning around, however, took him longer than it should have, and you were pretty sure he did it on purpose. At the door, he threw another grinning look back.

Finally, you two were alone again.

You continued blinking at the door. What was that?

"I should probably see what he's up to," Freddie sighed but offered no other explanation. Nevertheless, he made no effort to leave.

Instead, almost absentmindedly he traced an invisible line in the table.

It took you a moment to notice - he lingered.

You didn't know what to do with the realization. Staring at Freddie the whole time only made you feel stranger. Whatever this conversation just was already left you almost dazed, so you picked up the last remaining helmet beside Freddie’s mask again.

You already knew it was spotless. Not for nothing had you spent so much time cleaning it earlier.

Just to have something to do, you picked up another cloth and set to work again.

Freddie watched you silently. There was something comfortable, almost familiar about sharing the silence.

When the last helmet was finally picked up by another employee, it was the signal for Freddie to leave.

You handed him his mask as well. Your fingers touched too long to be just a coincidence. It made your heart beat loudly in your chest.

For a moment you hesitated. Then you raised an arm briefly to his shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. "Good luck!"

Before you had a chance to regret your decision, you went back to your work.

–   

The high spirits of some of the players you spotted hours later in the hallways told you how the game had turned out, even though you’d been too busy to watch.

You didn't think Freddie would send you more than a quick smile as he walked down the corridor. Two others caught up with him. One of them, easily recognized as Seth Jarvis, and one of the rookies. Seth said something to Freddie, then pushed him to the side straight at you, laughing with one hand behind his back.

With a slight color in his cheeks, no doubt still from the game, he took a few steps towards you. Smiling, he raised an arm. He waited a moment, as if offering you a way out. Instead, you gladly took a small step in his direction.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders. You were pressed firmly against Freddie, who murmured a quiet thank you against your hair. Then, he let go of you all too quickly.

What exactly he was thanking you for you didn’t know. You also didn’t get the chance to ask.

As they passed you, the other two players behind Freddie greeted you cheerfully. You didn't even know other players knew your name. Seth looked almost as amused as earlier today.

– 

By the last day of the road trip, you could no longer stand being in your room. Something about the specific shade of the wall color made your skin itch if you looked at it for too long.

It was unexpected how much you missed home. Even after just those few days in hotel rooms.

Maybe it was having to live out of a suitcase because it wasn't worth putting your things in the closet when you might be traveling to the next city that same night or the next morning. Or maybe it was the way you were constantly surrounded by the general working atmosphere.

You couldn't put your finger on it. What you could say, however, was that you couldn't wait to get home. 

Just one last game.

After dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room. Instead, you explored the common room reserved for the team and staff.

Through the window, you could see some players playing with a ball in the backyard below. At a table in the corner, various people were playing a card game you had never heard of.

In a quiet area, you settled down with a book.

Everything was ideal for reading. It was quiet enough; the sofa was comfortable and you were wearing one of your coziest sweaters.

Still, you couldn’t concentrate on your book. Your thoughts wouldn’t calm down, leaving you feeling restless. Every few minutes you shifted in your seat.

You would have liked to fast-forward the day so that it would finally be evening, and you could go home. If it was up to you, you would have already been on a plane.

Every time someone walked past or entered the room, you unconsciously raised your eyes. And every time, you were annoyed that you had lost the line in your book again. Not that you could remember much of the story anyway. Your attention wasn't quite there.

However, it also meant you noticed when Freddie entered the room.

He stopped several times to talk to people. When he was only a few steps away from the sofas, he looked back and forth between them.

Before you could think about it too long, you slid a little to the side, as if an invitation. There was more than enough space next to you for him to sit down without you touching. However, you left the final decision to him.

You didn't have to wait long. Freddie plopped down on the couch - just a touch closer than usual, but still far enough away that you almost questioned if you were just imagining it. Not that you were complaining.

He opened the book he'd been holding under his arm.

Not exactly subtle, he kept watching you out of the corner of his eye. As soon as you lifted your head, however, he immediately averted his gaze.

Actually, you didn't want to ask. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer. What if it was a problem just you had. But still.

After another moment of thought you blurted: "Do you ever get tired of away games?"

"Huh?" He looked up, apparently not having anticipated such a question.

Well, there was no turning back now anyway.

"Like, traveling around all the time, being away from home so much?" you tried to explain.

His answer came easily. "Oh, absolutely. I used to hate it so much. Now it’s not as bad anymore. I mean, some days I would still be rather at but, ehn." He shrugged his shoulders.  

Only after a moment did you ask further, having the feeling he wasn't going to add anything more.

"Used to? What changed?"

"Mainly the team. Getting to know the people you spend the days with has been incredibly helpful. It feels less like a business trip and more like… Like a school trip when you were younger." For a moment he got a far-away look in his eyes as if lost in thought.

Your gaze glided across the room. ‘Business trip’ summed up pretty well how it felt to you. Even though you've had superficial conversations with a lot of people, you probably didn't know any of them nearly well enough to put them anywhere near the friends category.

But of course, you’d also noticed how many of the others were always planning activities in groups or just talking and joking over the meals.

You exhaled briefly.

Freddie watched you for a moment. He tilted his head, then continued slowly. His words seemed measured: “You know, the first road trip after my trade here was particularly hard."

You hadn't even thought about that. Your stomach tightened at the thought of how Freddie must have felt.

"Of course, at most everything is the same, but it still feels so- so unfamiliar. You don't know who's sitting next to whom on the plane. You don't know who's a good roommate and who might snore loudly or leave their things everywhere. And all these little rituals and changes that might not even exist at home games."

"But it got better?" You looked at the hands in your lap.

"It really does. The first few times the unfamiliarity, it's so exhausting. But with each more trip, it becomes more and more of a habit."

After a beat of silence, Freddie added slowly: "I don't want to lie to you. Sometimes I'd still rather stay at home. Home games are definitely more enjoyable, as far as that goes. But they're exceptions, just like everyone has bad days."

Encouragingly, he gently pressed his shoulder against yours. The brief touch turned into a long moment, somehow your whole sides touching. Your arm rested against his, your legs just a few inches away.

After a few moments, when he still hadn't slipped away again, you let yourself relax against him. Gradually you could feel Freddie’s muscles losing their tension as well.

"What about Denmark? Do you ever miss being there?" you asked into the silence between you. Freddie looked out of the window.  

"When I was younger, I missed it a lot more than I do now. I haven't lived there for so long now that I hardly know any different."

Your eyebrows drew together. You didn't know whether the statement reassured you or whether it made you want to give Freddie a long hug. Somehow it sounded so sad.

"I can still visit it regularly. And it's not as if my family would ever let me forget the language." He pointed to the book next to him.

You hadn't looked at it closely before. But now you noticed that the title consisted of large - obviously Danish - words.

"Just sometimes..." he shrugged his shoulders unsure. Then he picked up his book again with a sigh.

This effectively ended the conversation. You wanted to ask more, but the far-away look in Freddie’s eyes stopped you. Now you felt bad. Making Freddie sad hadn’t been your intention.

As if he could read your mind, he knocked his elbow against yours gently. You took a deep breath. Returning the gesture, you began reading again as well.

While your earlier worries had calmed down for the time being, now, with every breath you took, you were made aware of how close you and Freddie were sitting to each other.

You didn't want to have to get up again.

–   

The flight home was uneventful. A general tiredness hung over everyone.

You yawned again as you finally stepped outside into the cool night air.

The tiredness made you inattentive and you flinched when someone unexpectedly appeared next to you.

By now you didn't even need to look at him to recognize Freddie. Just his stature and the hint of ginger hair were enough.

He casually reached for your bag and took it from your hand.

Baffled, you almost stumbled over your feet, looking up at him.

"That's my bag."

"Yep," he said with a grin. He had slowed down to give you a chance to catch up. "At least I hope it’s yours and not some random one you just took."

You rolled your eyes. “Then what are you doing with it? Now that we've established that it is my bag."

"I'm giving you a ride." He stated casually, then started walking again.

If you hadn't been so exhausted, you would have at least tried to protest out of politeness. 

Nevertheless, you couldn't help but at least tease tiredly: "Maybe I've got another ride by now."

"Is that why you have the Uber app open?"

You looked down at the phone in your hands. Huh, you couldn't say anything against that.

Freddie became serious for a moment.  "Hey, if you really don't want to, I'm happy to just wait here with you until your Uber arrives. But the offer stands."

"You really don't have to," spoke the good manners out of you. Your parents would have been proud. Even to your ears, however, it sounded very half-hearted.

Freddie stopped. You almost ran into him. Since you managed to stop just in time, you were now standing right in front of each other instead. If you had leaned forward just a little, you would have been touching.

For a long moment, Freddie held your gaze.  "I know I don't have to. But I want to." The sincerity in his words made you swallow. For a few seconds, you stood in front of each other, looking at each other. You could have sworn Freddie's eyes flickered down your face for a moment.

But then he just cleared his throat and started walking again. You ignored the small spark of disappointment in your stomach.

You were sure that Freddie purposely made himself taller as he looked down at you and joked: "And no offense to you, but you're really not big enough to be threatening."

"Hey! I can be scary if I want to be."

"Uh-uh. Whatever you say."

You stuck your tongue out at him, even if he couldn't see it, as he opened the trunk.

For some reason, you had expected the car ride with Freddie to be awkward. Instead, comfortable silence spread between you. After you had told him your address, he navigated the car slowly through the dark streets.

You watched the streetlights pass by the windshield for a while.

"So, do you give all the poor stranded newbies a ride?" It could be taken as a simple joke. You tried to keep your voice carefully neutral. Still, the mood in the car shifted. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather more serious than before. It felt important.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just being helpful?" Freddie didn't even sound like he believed the reason himself. It wasn't a straight answer, but it wasn't an immediate deflection either. You could just accept this as the answer and move on, just, you didn’t want that anymore.

"Normally? Yes. But when you say it like that? Not really”, you still kept the tone light.

"Yeah... My sister is the only one in our family who is a good liar. As a teenager, I always envied her for that. She could outsmart our mother every time."

A small smile graced your lips at the story. You could literally see it in front of you, a young Freddie stammering as he tried to come up with a story about why he was home late.

Freddie parked the car in front of your house. He continued to look straight ahead. In the dim light, you couldn’t be sure, but you could have sworn his ears were turning red.

"I mean, it really wasn't a big deal. And you're not the worst company either."

"Such a high compliment," you grinned, "Not the worst company."

Maybe his cheeks had gained a little color too.

"But really, thank you, for the ride. It probably wasn’t on your way."

"It was nothing, really. And maybe it was also a little selfish." He said it into the quiet of the night as if it were a precious secret. He turned his head towards you and looked straight at you. There was warmth in his gaze, perhaps a spark of hope.

"I like- I like spending time with you."

You couldn't help but smile at the words. Freddie smiled back.

Very slowly, one of his hands moved towards your face, as if he was giving you time to object. You immediately leaned into the touch as he cupped your cheek.

He stroked the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. One of your hands rested on his forearm.

"Good thing I like spending time with you too," you whispered softly.

Afterward, you couldn't remember who moved first. Freddie's face came closer towards yours. Your free hand buried itself in his shirt, the other one letting go to run through his hair.

As soon as your lips met, time seemed to stand still for a moment. You forgot all your previous thoughts. The only thing existing was the feeling of his lips pressing gently against yours.

Soon, the sweet kiss turned deeper. The angle wasn’t great, but you made it work.

When you finally broke away from each other, you didn’t move far. Your forehead rested against his, you could feel his breath against your lips.

A small giggle escaped you. Your eyes met. It made Freddie’s smile widen, before his hand slid into your neck to pull your lips to his once again.

– 

It was pure coincidence that you had packed your skates.

After a morning of unpacking deliveries and doing inventory, you were ready to just go home and curl up on your couch. Only Sarah, with whom you had shared the work, had made it more bearable. Before, you had only known her by sight. Now you couldn't remember the last time you had made friends with a colleague so fast.

She was also the first who saw the note on your locker. With a raised eyebrow, she watched as you read it. Your expression had apparently told her enough because she didn't question your decision to stay in the arena and instead said goodbye with a wink.

The note was pretty inconspicuous.

'Meet me on the ice?’

It was the thought of who the message was probably from that made your heart skip a beat.

When you stepped onto the ice this time, Freddie was already skating slow circles across the rink. You were delighted to realize that you could be faster than him in full gear and after several hours of training.

It was a moment of being inattentive – and maybe also you getting tired after a few laps – that he took advantage of. With a gentle push, cushioned on all sides by his pads, he pushed you against the glass.

With your back against the glass and his arms on either side of you, you stopped.

"Hi." You grinned up into his face. Through the mask, he grinned back just as widely.

"Hi."

"What a coincidence to see you here."

"What, were you expecting someone else, skat?" The way Freddie emphasized the last word told you he knew exactly what that would do to you. Your heart melted.

"Writing notes. Pet names. Is this becoming some high school romance novel?"

"I don't even know what you mean, elskling." You could hear the amusement in his voice. Before you had a chance to answer, Freddie had already pushed himself away.

He positioned himself in the net and leaned down. It didn't take you that long to get used to shooting again.

–

With your skates in hand and a pleasant exhaustion making your legs heavy, all you wanted to do was grab your stuff and finally head back to your apartment.  

As you turned the corner, you almost ran into someone. You only just managed to stop in time.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to still be here. Didn’t you finish several hours ago?" Tony looked down at you. In one arm he carried a pile of sticks, in the other a large folder overflowing with notes.

"But, oh wait, it's actually good that you're here."

The next words made your heart stop for a moment.

"I just need to talk to you for a minute."

When had that sentence ever been followed by something good?

You couldn't say for sure how long Tony had been standing here. Maybe he had just seen you with Freddie. Before that, you hadn't even thought about whether that was allowed. What if both you and Freddie got into trouble for it?

Or even worse. What if he found out about you and Freddie off the ice? You had only briefly skimmed the contract when you’d signed. You had been far too fascinated by this world, which was secret to every normal fan, to care about that stuff. Not that you’d even expected something like this to happen.

Now you were desperately trying to remember if there was a paragraph about whether relationships with players were allowed at all.

"I won't keep you long," Tony finally snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Brynn - that was the one who was ill. You were his replacement, I don't know if you ever heard his name." You couldn't remember it, but you'd been told so much in the first few days that you could very well have just forgotten it again.

"Anyway. Brynn will be back tomorrow," Tony's face stiffened, "So technically, we don't need any extra help anymore."

"Oh." Of all the fears that had been running through your mind, that hadn't been a scenario you’d considered. You had known from the start that it would only be a short-term job. But you’d have never expected it to be this short.

Tony smiled somberly. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think it would be so quick."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's great for Brynn." You weren’t lying. Obviously, it was good to hear, that he was healthy again. But at the same time, knowing you’d lose your job made your heart ache. Even in the short time, you’d grown to love it.

"Yeah," Tony nodded a little absently. He looked conflicted. "Okay, so. Technically I'm not supposed to say anything yet, but... my boss is retiring in the next few weeks. His replacement should be decided by the end of the week. We've had a few conversations and let's just say... I feel like I've got a pretty good chance of getting the role."

"That's really great for you?" you said slowly. Not that you weren't happy for Tony, but your enthusiasm was limited after you'd practically been fired just a minute before.

"That means there's a job opening to be filled." He looked at you meaningfully.

It took you a moment to finally understand. "Oooh."

"Yeah," he nodded, now with a hint of a grin on his lips. "I could put in a good word."

"Really?"

Tony nodded. You had to suppress a loud cheer.  

–

It was a strange feeling. Last away games you’d wished so desperately to be home again. This time you wished you could join. Having to sit at home and having to say goodbye to Freddie sounded almost worse.  

"I'm going to miss you for the next few days."

Freddie came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you let yourself fall against him.

He looked at you questioningly over your shoulder. "You're not coming?"

Then it seemed to come back to him too. "Oh, right."

It had taken you almost two days to tell him about the conversation with Tony. You were unsure how to. Plus, an annoying voice in the back of your head that would convince you that Freddie wouldn't care at all.

In the end, you blurted it out one afternoon. In your head, you stuck your tongue out at the nasty voice when Freddie immediately took you in his arms and asked how you were doing.

Even now, he gave you another apologetic hug.

Only one more day until the day Tony would hopefully call.  

The timer beeped. Sighing you peeled yourself from Freddie to take the tray out of the oven.

You sat it down on the counter next to the first, a lot less successful attempt.

You had wanted to do something nice for Freddie, had read up on Danish pastries the day before and after long contemplation finally saved a recipe on your phone. You didn’t know how to pronounce Brunsviger properly, but the pictures had looked great and the recipe seemed easy enough.

You still didn't know exactly where things had gone wrong. Although you had assured Freddie that he really didn't have to – and really, shouldn’t – he had tried a forkful of it anyway. As expected, it wasn’t good. Still, there was a traitorous wetness in his eyes and a long hug.

For the second attempt, Freddie hadn't left your side and guided you through it.

You left some on the counter for Jane. A silent apology for the last time you’d had Freddie over. You might have forgotten to tell her beforehand.

Or maybe, tell her about this at all. There just hadn’t been a good opportunity, especially also constantly having to think about your job.

On this day of all days Jane had come home a lot earlier than you anticipated. For a few seconds, she’d just blinked at you two sitting on the couch, you with your legs in Freddie’s lap.

Then, with a tight voice, she had asked: “Do you have a moment.” Her head nodding to the kitchen.

It had made you feel a little guilty how shocked she looked. Her first words being: “Is that Frederik Andersen in our living room?”.

Obviously, she was happy for you, after the first shock wore off.

The piece of Brunsviger was gone the next morning as you brought Freddie to the door.

"You're gonna be great," you told him goodbye.

The hug was long. Neither of you wanted to be the first to leave. In the end, it was time that drove you apart. If Freddie wanted to get to the airport on time, he had to hurry.

–   

Of course, you watched the games. The first game was great, the second one maybe even better. It was also the first time since the new job that you were actually able to give the games your full attention again. Even if you hadn't really noticed it before, you had missed it a little.

You had a good time. When Freddie had a particularly good save, you wrote him a message. You knew he would reply after the game in the flustered way he always reacted to compliments.

The phone call one evening still took you by surprise. A smile spread across your face. "Hey."

"Hej."

Before you could even reply, you heard a voice in the background.

"Hey, Freddie, what got you smiling like this?" You didn’t recognize the voice but you also didn't have to in order to understand the clearly teasing undertone.

The rustling from the line told you that Freddie must have covered the microphone for a moment. The muffled words he threw back sounded a lot like an insult. The response was laughter.

"Talking to your girlfriend?" came another voice, also obviously meant to tease.

Freddie didn’t reply. You could only imagine his facial expression.

Apparently, it was an interesting one. They probably also had expected some kind of denial.

Now there were several voices talking excitedly over each other.

"Wait what?" - "Wait are you serious?" - "Since when?"

"You can't just say that and leave! You have to-"

Then the voices in the background suddenly disappeared.

"Sorry, I just need to change rooms for a minute”, he said a little sheepishly. "They might have found out that we've been talking."

"Do you mind?" You chewed on your lower lip as you awaited the answer. Freddie didn't sound too worried, but still, probably better to ask.  

"Eh, not really" Then came the cautious question from him too: "Does it bother you?"

You took a moment to really think about it. Maybe it should have bothered you. Especially considering the fact that this was still so new with you two. Still, you couldn't find it in you to worry about it right now. You were far too happy for that.

"No. It probably had to come out somehow. Even if it was quicker than I thought. For hockey players, they're surprisingly smart."

Freddie's laughter rang out from the line. It made you miss seeing the little crinkles form around his eyes. "I'll tell them you said that”, he warned.

"Tony called today."

"Tony? From equipment?" Immediately you could hear Freddie perk up.

As if you knew another Tony.

"Uh-hu. You still have space in your car for one more person?" You let yourself fall backward onto your bed as you gave him a few moments to understand what you were saying.

A few seconds of silence and then a cautiously hopeful: "Yeah?"

"Just so I’m not almost late again, obviously." The corners of your mouth slowly began to pull into a grin.

"Really? Does that mean...?" The joy in his voice only made your grin widen.

"I'm employed. Permanently this time. Not just temporary."

Even as you heard the news from Tony himself, you could barely contain your happiness. As soon as you'd hung up, you'd jumped so loudly that even Jane had come out of the next room.

"That's fantastic!"

You couldn't even put into words how incredibly happy you were just then. The only thing that would’ve made the moment better was if you could have hugged Freddie at that moment.

–  

Before you knew it, the day of the third and final game of the road trip had arrived. As you watched the game on the side while you prepared your dinner, you had a good feeling.

The first period wasn't ideal, but it wasn't disastrous either. The second period started with a goal for the Canes. You jumped up and down enthusiastically, broccoli in hand.

After that, it was all downhill. At the end of the second 20 minutes, the Canes were already 2 goals behind. Two more goals followed. Freddie got pulled in the last 5 minutes. You could almost feel his frustration through the screen as he went down the tunnel.

At that moment, you wished you could’ve been there. How much you would’ve liked to give him a hug and tell him that everything would be okay.

You hesitated for a moment before sending a text. You definitely didn't want to annoy him. A text could never really express the comfort you wanted to give him, but it felt even worse not to write anything.

You tried not to think too much about it when you still hadn't heard back after half an hour. He was probably busy with his post-game routines. After all, they were set to travel back today and arrive late tonight. Surely, he would reply on the plane.

–  

It was pure coincidence that you were looking at your phone at that exact moment. Of course, you hadn't been checking for new messages every 5 minutes all evening. Who would do that? Definitely not you. (There were at least 6 and a half minutes on average between each time you checked your phone.)

So, it was definitely a complete coincidence that you were able to read the text the minute it flashed up on your phone.

It was just two short lines. An address.

It wasn’t even a question if you should go. Before you could even really think about it, you had already grabbed your jacket and put on your shoes.

As you closed the front door, your cell phone beeped with another message.

‘Only if you want to. Might not be in the best mood tonight.’

An obvious offer of a way out. As if you hadn't been waiting for this the whole evening. As if the thought of seeing Freddie again in just a few minutes didn't give you butterflies in your stomach. 

Your heart broke a little at how uncertain the texts sounded, as if you hadn't missed him for the last few days.

Excitement tingled in your fingers as you finally stepped into the elevator to Freddie’s apartment. It had been a short drive.

The door swung open. Freddie was standing in front of you. For a moment, you just looked at each other silently, then he literally pulled you against his chest. More than willingly, you sank into his arms.  

You buried your face in his sweater. The warmth of his body and his familiar scent enveloped you. You could’ve stayed like this forever.

Freddie pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before holding you just a little tighter.

It was the rumbling of his stomach that finally separated you. Even though Freddie was reluctant to let you go, you shooed him into the apartment. He shouldn't have to starve because of you. Who knows when he’d last eaten before the flight?

Freddie apparently understood what you wanted from him and so he led you through the entrance area into the open kitchen. There was already a pot on the stove, some kind of pasta in it. Next to it was a pan of chopped vegetables.

While he took a large wooden spoon and stirred it slowly, you jumped onto one of the counters and sat down. Given your height and the height of the counters, which were definitely adapted to Freddie, it wasn't as easy as you thought, but the twitch in the corner of Freddie's mouth made it worth the effort.

From your position, you could watch Freddie. How his movements were all a little too choppy and the tense line in his shoulders. How he put the spoon down too hard on the counter. How he didn’t raise his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault." You said quietly.

Freddie exhaled in disbelief. He didn't look up at you.

Only when you reached out a hand for him did he come closer. He propped himself up with his arms on both sides of you, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

"Even though you might not believe me just yet, it wasn't your fault," you repeated, hoping that your words would get through to him eventually.

One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other you let run slowly through his hair.

"You did everything you could. It just wasn't your game. Can't win them all."

He let it pass for a moment, then took a deep breath. He turned his head. With a quick kiss against your neck, he pulled away from you.

"Thank you." He couldn't quite meet your gaze, but you still saw his words for what they were. Not just a thank you for right now, but the texts, the coming over, all the times before that.

"Nothing to thank me for," you confirmed. Freddie shook his head lovingly.

Nevertheless, he probably decided not to disagree for the moment. Instead, he took a plate from the cupboard. Silently he held it out to you, but you shook your head. You’d already eaten.

While Freddie ate, you sat beside him on the sofa. Your legs pressed together with soft music playing in the background for company.

When Freddie got up to take his plate back to the kitchen, you watched him.

Until he came back you hadn't moved from your seat, but apparently, Freddie was no longer satisfied with your previous seating arrangement. With a little shifting around, he finally settled behind you.

His legs were on either side of you, his back against the couch cushions, your back against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, drawing slow circles into your side. The other hand was intertwined with yours on your lap.

Your words were quiet. You talked about the last few days, hockey the topic you both ignored. While you told him about the cute dog you'd seen while going grocery shopping, Freddie about something funny one of his teammates had done at team breakfast.

So much more important than your conversations, however, was the fact that you were together at that moment. You enjoyed the closeness; the body heat that radiated from him and slowly made you sleepy.

Every once in a while, Freddie took turns in gently kissing your temple and your forehead. Each time you sank a little more against him.

– 

"Happy New Year," Freddie murmured. His arms around your waist pulled you closer to him.

"Happy New Year," you whispered back against his lips. With your hands on the back of his neck, you reached up for a kiss.

Even after all these years, you still weren't tired of it. Hopefully, you’d never be.

[hotcryptidsinyourarea]

Falling for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio

story synopsis: Molly is a 30-something cookbook editor who has decided to move from New York to Loveland, Ohio after a bad breakup and a desire for a fresh start. She is instantly attracted to her neighbor Jeremiah's midwestern charms, but this local guy is much more than meets the eye...

human (she/her) + interdimensional humanoid frogman (he/him) cw: lurking

Chapter 2

I come back from the grocery store with plenty of my staple favorites and a few treats to keep me motivated throughout the evening. I put the groceries away haphazardly then turn my attention to the business of getting as much of the house in order as possible. I was able to get the electricity, water, and gas set up before my arrival, but unfortunately I couldn’t get the internet turn on in time. I have that scheduled for tomorrow, thank god, because I am a modern woman who needs her internet access, dammit! I refuse to be disconnected. Fortunately, my cell phone reception is excellent and my data plan is unlimited, so I pick out a podcast and stream it on my phone’s speaker while I get to work. I’m practically a pioneer woman out here getting back to nature. 

I don’t have too much to do this evening considering the bulk of my belongings aren’t here yet, but I still have those few boxes of essentials I need to unpack. Plus, I had my brand new mattress and bed frame delivered and ready to build. The delivery people were even kind enough to put the boxes in the backyard to reduce the chances of them being porch pirated. That part of the house is closed in, but the short picket fence itself is more about form than function. It’s easy enough for anyone to reach over it and unlock the gate that separates front and back. And at the back of the property, you can see clear over it to a small creek that runs perpendicular to my block, so anyone who may be walking back there could hypothetically look right into my yard. The exposure doesn’t bother me, per se, but I do wonder if such a backyard setup is ideal or if I’ll need to invest in something more secure in the future. I guess even if you don’t buy a fixer upper, home ownership is a promise of continuous renovation projects. It’s a good thing I have plenty of time on my hands in the months ahead. If only those hands were also equipped with the DIY skills I’ll need to tackle the agenda. I'm not a particularly handy gal, but I guess no one is until they try. And I might as well start with the relatively simple job of putting my bed together.

Whatever silly online bed-in-a-box company I used even had a deal where I could get a new frame, mattress, pillows, and bedding for a bundled price, so there are multiple boxes back there. I drag them inside and settle them one by one in the master bedroom before using the Swiss army knife my dad gave me for my 13th birthday to open them. Assembling the bed isn’t difficult– even with my lack of handywoman acumen– but it does take a while to actually complete. By the time I’m done, the room is a maze of boxes stuffed with plastic wrap and random cardboard pieces used to package the whole kit-and-kaboodle. It’s absolutely a mess, but I have a bed. No matter how much or how little I do for the rest of the day, I’ll be able to tuck in at the end of it for a good night’s sleep. I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, even though I’m basically doing the bare minimum. 

Wanting some fresh air after my radical act of self-sufficiency, I drag the boxes back out into the yard and start breaking them down and bagging the rest to throw in the trash. Once I’m done, I figure I’ll stay outside to poke around the property a bit and give my brain a break in hopes it will recuperate enough for me to tackle another task. One of the things that really drew me to this home in particular was the aforementioned little creek that runs behind this block of homes. It’s not much– the depth won’t even clear my knees– but it’s still a gorgeous little slice of nature. I enjoy the gentle sounds of the running water and dip my toes in it. The water is cool and clear, but clouded with the silt of the creek bottom. A school of tiny fish with swatches of red-orange along their throats rush past my toes and I take it as a good sign. Immediately spotting wildlife surely means the creek is healthy, though I don’t claim to be an expert in the matter. 

I notice the sunlight waning and head back inside. While there is still a good deal of unpacking I need to do, I’m also pretty hungry. It is time to make good with the groceries I packed up earlier. I pour myself a glass of wine and turn on the oven to preheat. Then I grab the multi-colored heirloom tomatoes, focaccia, fresh mozzarella, and pre-made pesto I picked up at the store and start preparing dinner. In my opinion, there isn’t a food combination out there that can top carb + tomato + cheese + green. No matter how you slice it, no matter how you spice it: it always hits. Grilled cheese with arugula and tomato soup? Sublime. Saag paneer with rice and tomato chutney? Mouthwatering. Cheesy spinach enchiladas with red sauce and pico de gallo? Que ricos. The spices may vary and the composition may shift, but with those four pillars as a foundation, you set yourself up for success.

It wouldn’t surprise a single person that knows me to find out the first real thing I do in my new home is cook a meal. Next to spending an entire day binging reality dating shows, cooking is what feels most natural to me. Taking a bunch of individual ingredients and transforming them into a completely new, separate product is about as close to real magic as I’ll ever get in this world. And there’s something meditative about the process. When I’m cooking, my mind isn’t on the ex boyfriend who left me or the uncertainty of my future in a new place where I don’t know a single person. All my attention is focused on slicing these tomatoes at a uniform width so they cook through evenly on top of the focaccia halves I’ve prepared with extra virgin olive oil and diced garlic. I arrange the tomato slices on the bread, alternating between colors to create a stunning visual. I pop the topped focaccia halves in the oven for the ensemble to bake through for about 10 minutes before taking them out and laying circles of mozzarella on top of the composition. I switch the oven to broil and back inside go my little toasts. I allow the broiler to melt the mozzarella and then some until I see a spattering of tiny burnt sienna leopard spots form on the surface before I remove them and drizzle with the bright and herbaceous pesto. Normally, I’d like to make my own sauces, but given my circumstances and limited kitchen accoutrement, I make do. I finish it all with a bit of fresh cracked pepper and a sprinkle of parmesan before I head outside to enjoy the first meal in my new home.

The old owners left a slightly rusted wrought iron patio set in the backyard and the night is warm and quiet, so it’s as good a place as any for me to eat. The chairs aren’t very comfortable and the table is a bit wobbly, but it works. I make a mental note to look up DIY wrought iron restoration projects for inspiration. I’ll have plenty of time for projects like that while I’m getting my footing in Loveland. Oh god, I’m going to become one of those girls whose life revolves around her “projects.” Maybe I’ll make an Instagram account where I document all my before and after photos. My dad has been getting on to me about establishing a secondary income stream now that I’m a homeowner. 

But for now, I just want to enjoy my dinner and the satisfaction of finally being in my new place. My little caprese-focaccia pizza thing came out beautifully, but I think next time instead of pesto, It'd be better topped with fresh arugula and a drizzling of balsamic reduction to cut the richness of the cheese. I’m taking a sip of wine when a quick spark catches my eye. Then another– then another… Fireflies! Having a house that backs up to a creek means I’m located smack dab in the middle of their breeding grounds. I can’t help but smile as more and more luminescent flashes dance around the yard. It’s beautiful. I can’t even remember the last time I saw fireflies in the city. Sometimes you can spot them in the parks, but I read at some point that their numbers are rapidly declining due to habitat loss. But out here, there’s plenty of them bouncing around my yard and creating a veritable light show just for me. Maybe cooking isn’t the only magic left in the world. Maybe there’s more.

I take a sip of wine and breathe. I feel the tension ease from my body and think for the first time in many years, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. 

But that comfort is short-lived. I hear a rustling in that dark that indicates I am not alone. I hear the splash of water– whatever it is, it’s somewhere down by the creek. It could be a raccoon, but my gut is telling me it must be something bigger to make that noise. Are there bears in Ohio? Or mountain lions? Surely if there are, they wouldn’t be traipsing around the suburbs, right? And would a wild animal be any more or less dangerous than the alternative– a stranger? 

“Hello?” I ask the darkness. “Is somebody out there?” 

I can feel my pulse quicken all the way up in my ears. Whatever– or whoever– is out there has triggered my somatic system into high alert. All the tension that had previously melted from my body is slowly building back up. My gut is telling me to go inside, but I can’t move. I argue with my intuition internally– 

Surely you’re just being paranoid! Am I paranoid or is this the beginning of a new true crime docu-series where the Big City Lady gets hacked to death in Ohio because she doesn’t take the dangers of the midwest seriously.  Okay, well that is a bit macabre, don’t you think?  Macabre or realistic– remember that show about Jeffrey Dahmer? He killed people in Ohio! Jeffrey Dahmer only killed men.  Girl. Don’t make excuses for Jeffrey Dahmer. I may be the voice inside your head, but even I know that’s crazy. You… may have a point there. 

I hear another rustle and the splash of moving water again and the voice inside my head turns into a screaming alarm. Adrenaline shoots through my body and I gather the remnants of my meal and book it back inside, locking the back patio door behind me. I may just be a paranoid idiot freaking out over the harmless presence of the native fauna of the Great State of Ohio, but I don’t really care at the moment. As a woman in my 30s, I know the value of being safe rather than sorry. Hell, a woman of any age should understand it. You feel that lurch in your stomach, you get the fuck out of there. No time for questions, no doubts– you simply have to get your ass up and away before you have the time to really find out.

So instead of beating myself up wondering if I should give the Mystery Lurker a chance to prove they’re harmless, I clean up my dishes, pour another glass of wine, and double check that all my doors and windows are secure. Then after I wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into my nightgown, I tuck into my brand new bed, pull out my phone, and browse dog listings from the local animal shelter for a bit to distract myself from whatever spooked me out there. Thankfully, the bed is very comfortable and the events of the day were sufficiently taxing, so when I feel my eyes grow heavy, I log off and plug my phone in to recharge through the night. I close my eyes and fall asleep in no time at all, comforted by the protection of my new home. 

At least, for now.

[chibivesicle]

Trigun Stampede - Episode 6 - Wolfwood’s tragic backstory, now? Eeeehh?

Episode 6 dropped yesterday and I had only enough time to watch but not anything else.  After watching it, I just felt meh wringing my hands about how when I first heard about the reboot at Anime Expo last summer I was so stoked for a more through Trigun anime.  And we get this version from Studio Orange which I really wanted to be an enjoyable watch - buuuuuut - meh.  You’re killing me Studio Orange.

Since I didn’t have time to get to it yesterday, I pestered my good meta friend Merdopseudo to see what she thought as well, so I’ll be highlighting some of her points here as well since she’s great at catching things I miss or summarizing well.  As indicated by my summary title, I’m quite confused why they decided to lead with Wolfwood’s even more tragic backstory in this version of Trigun than in the manga.

We start off the episode with a fleeing masked member of the Eye of Michael (though they haven’t been named yet) who tries to kill Wolfwood and fails as he destroys the man.

We get even red eyes as he lines up his aim before the man dies.  And he’s wearing his sunglasses even at night!  Wow, maximum badass.  Why? Wolfwood needs to be a maximum badass, that’s why. Furthermore, so many scenes in this anime seem to feature full moons all the time.  Just an observation.

After the opening we return to the quartet in the November News Bureau SUV.  In the backseat, Vash and Wolfwood are pouting over something and Meryl jokingly asks if they are having a spat over candy.

This line feels like it was delivered in poor taste.  I get she’s trying to defuse the situation but are we to think this is due to Wolfwood shooting Rollo - last night?  Or a few days prior?  What is our pacing? What day of the week is it?  How much time has passed?  Any clue would help us out here Studio Orange.  I’m going to take the easiest option and say that they are pouting about the fact that Wolfwood killed Rollo - last night.

Roberto then suggested that they need to finish their job.  This would mean abandoning the SUV and taking the Sandsteamer to July and I guess check in with a Bureau office there?

He’s clear that he wants Meryl to take the steamer but it was vague if he was going to go with her or if he wanted her to take it for safety. Uncle info dump isn’t info dumping this episode much.

They end up separating from Vash and Wolfwood who both board the Sandsteamer.   Wolfwood gives Vash shit for seeming to have no emotional connection to Meryl and Roberto - which really it a valid reply.  It hasn’t been that many days that Vash has known them.

It has been even less time for Wolfwood to know Vash and he’s sticking to him like crazy glue, again being an ass.  Honestly, there is NO chemistry between Vash and Wolfwood in this version, Vash runs and tries to not kill people and Wolfwood gives him shit and kills people.

Meanwhile, Meryl is working hard to convince Roberto that they need to continue to track the Humanoid Typhoon.  Interestingly, that she doesn’t call him Vash, but by his destructive nickname here.  She pulls out the photo with young Rollo asking Roberto if he’s scared.

We don’t get a clear answer from Roberto if he’s actually afraid - I felt he isn’t afraid of Vash per se, but instead realizes that his youthful appearance is some sort of indication that dangerous stuff surrounds him.  More that he wants to avoid Vash out of a sense of - I dunno - not dying.  This episode will frequently use the word monster to describe Wolfwood a lot and Vash as well.  This is the writers trying to get us to connect the two of them and make us feel that they should be friends and a dynamic duo - which they aren’t currently.

We see people at the Ferry Terminal waving to those on the steamer which in this version is called the Humpback.  Interesting shift, as in the original the Sandsteamer was known as the Flourish and was a Humpback class.

In other versions, children were excited when it came, being Sandsteamer nerds.  I’ve been following too many historical sewing/clothing youtubers for the past few years and I keep getting vibes that the clothing for normal people in this sci fi series is more 1910s-1920s and not late 19th century western dress.  The boater hats, suspenders, knickers, newsboy caps, lack of women with bustle action etc.  I know it is a future sci fi series, but it does seem that they tried to modernize the clothing to at least be early 20th century to fit the sci fi vibe more.

On the steamer there is a route map telling use they are leaving the Terminal - which literally is just a single terminal in the desert?  What?  Ports develop around such locations but this is just a terminal. 

It is also hilarious that the Terminal starts somewhere in ‘Central America’ crosses part of the Great Sand Ocean, there is the Hopeland Orphanage in ‘Africa’ stops West of ‘India’ and then loops around ‘Australia’ only to reach July in ‘Southern China’.  Really guys, you just took a world map and smooshed and distorted the proportions.  We also get to see a tall man with the modified Zia-Cross symbol of the Eye of Michael in Stampede. 

Back when I first saw the early previews, I caught a glimpse of what was his back in an action shot and my first thought was - what? Are they using a Zia in the anime when it has some important symbolic meanings?

Stampede has been clear it has shifted very far away from the Christian aspects of the original work.  Since this is based on a Western style anime/manga we get this mixed vague symbol which I’m certain is a visual hybrid with the Zia.  If one were to travel through the Southwest as a tourist, you would inevitably see a Zia in some form with the most obvious being that of the New Mexico state flag.  The flag is yellow with the red Zia in the center representing the Zia sun symbol.  This symbol originated from the Zia Pueblo but has come to include more Pueblo groups, Hispanic native New Mexicans to just New Mexicans.  You live in New Mexico?  Lots of government documents, logos and all sorts of stuff will have a Zia symbol.

A simple way to summarize it is that it captures New Mexico culture - for example a cycling racing team is known as Zia Velo and they represent southern New Mexico.  However, if the Zia is applied out of a New Mexico/Pueblo context things get stickier.  I also think with a Japanese audience, a symbol which is built on groups of four wouldn’t work for the viewers so they took elements of the Zia from a Southwest inspired image board and called it good.  Four is the number of death for East Asians versus for the Zia, four is a scared number that captures key elements of life.

Anyhoo, I got distracted by the interesting looking symbol for the religious group on our desert planet.

Vash finally gets around to directly asking Wolfwood what his job is and he replies that he’s babysitting him. From Wolfwood we can understand that it is his ‘job’ to make sure Vash gets somewhere.  Or at least those are the orders that Wolfwood has.

Their conversation doesn’t get very far since Livio appears on the scene almost immediately and shoots at both of them.  We have a much more clean cut and slick looking Livio with a slim build and his two smaller guns along with a modification on his face and a mechanical sounding eye.

Vash fights back and it able to get close enough to fire at point blank range, but of course doesn’t.    We know he doesn’t want to pull that trigger, but it seems none of his modified opponents could care if they are in a tight spot.

It takes a little bit of time for Wolfwood to recognize who this man is and it ends with him asking if he is Livio before the title screen flashes. 

The anime then takes a shift to a 2D style of animation with silent film style titles showing how Livio came to the orphanage and Wolfwood was the longer taking care of the ostriches.

As Livio settles in, Wolfwood becomes his friend trying to get the crybaby to stop feeling sad at missing his parents.  He gets him to help out in the bird pen, and there is a cute sequence of them becoming childhood friends.

Older Wolfwood, tries smoking like an adult all cool and shares it with Livio who coughs.  We get a close up of Wolfwood running off with Livio hand in hand where in this flashback Wolfwood has a much darker skin tone in contrast to Livio being exceptionally pale.

We get it, there was a time when Wolfwood was cute and he was friends with Livio.   The flashback goes back to the present and Meryl and Roberto chasing after the sandsteamer when the Bad Lads gang shows up on sand sail boats.

They are taking this idea of the Great Sand Ocean quite literally and I don’t know how I feel about this.  I’m still wondering why it even exists but this is a sci fi desert series paying homage to lots of other sci fi desert tropes.

Interestingly, we have no idea if the Bad Lads Gang have taken Meryl and Roberto hostage, just that they’ve been surrounded.  I also guess there will be no scene with Kaite, the son of the chief engineer of the original Flourish.

Wolfwood’s flashback continues that he’s been selected as a ‘Child of Blessing’ just like Rollo by mysterious church.

There is a weird psychedelic flashback were Wolfwood is a test subject and shows S+ levels of possibilities.  This is clearly a term added for the Japanese audience as the States does not have this type of ranking which is a trope specific to Japanese media.

The original Trigun did not make references to S+ and I honestly don’t remember the term coming up in Trimax either.  We get that Wolfwood is subjected to all sorts of crazy stuff and due to his response to the treatments he’s a good candidate for furthering efforts.  Just like the breakneck pace of the anime, his own physical development is rapidly accelerated - much more so than with the manga.

We still don’t have a clear timeline, but if he’s ten or eleven at the start, but he’s I dunno twelve now?  As the original anime put it, he was taken in as a child and trained by Chapel the Evergreen for ten years before striking out on his own for an unclear amount of time making his age over twenty.  The manga has the unclear timeline where you’d think he was around twenty at the end, but maybe seventeen.   Either way, manga and ‘98 anime Wolfwoods were more emotionally mature and had seen things.   This version of Wolfwood might be a super-powered twelve year old for all we know. Which I am not a huge fan of this angle.

For fun he’s stuck on an inverted cross examine room table and called a monster for emphasis. Yeah, let’s slap some basic Christian imagery down but it has no meaning since that’s been cut out in this version.

Of course, being likely only twelve, he tries to escape his now adult form declaring he’s returning to the orphanage before getting caught.

As I stated previously, I wasn’t a huge fan of younger Wolfwood in the manga since it has a character disconnect where he had this world weariness that did not match his age nor life experience.  But I could forgive that a little since we saw him as an older teen training under Chapel.  Now, he’s a man with a child’s mind.  Yeah.

With his attempted escape, he is only stopped by Legato.  This is another huge deviation from the anime and manga since Legato doesn’t even know what ‘Chapel’ looks like in the manga.

Their first encounter was at the Church at Jeneora Rock and the assembly of most of the Gung-ho Guns.  In contrast, he’s immediately on guard since Vash told him about the strange and dangerous man he’d encountered on the bus to May city/Augusta.

For the sake of oversimplifying the plot, something that Merdopseudo and I had been predicting, Legato is the one who reveals that all things lead to Knives.  The Eye of Michael is not an independent organization!  It is all a part of Knives noble plan for the the future.  This is lazy writing.  The whole regenerative capsules and religious assassin organization were independent of Knives and only worked with him due to a shared goal of sorts.  Legato tells Wolfwood he’s been signed up for the Eye of Michael.

And apparently, since Wolfwood still has willpower to fight Legato, it makes him unique and declares that he doesn’t believe in any god.

Wolfwood has gone from being a flawed, trapped principled man with some sort of religious core to an atheist.  Okaaaaaaay Studio Orange - not sure where you are going with this at all. 

Legato brings in Livio who wanted to join Wolfwood and it is clear at the moment that Livio’s backstory has been completely retconned and he’s the younger brother character for Wolfwood to worry about.

Legato comes off as bizarrely cold and unemotional in this version.  In the anime he was a man clearly bent on a dark and destructive agenda, but I would not call him unemotional.  If anything Legato had a huge amount of pretentious pride in his nihilism.  It was a defining feature of his character and in the manga his intense emotions and nihilistic tendencies were even more over the top. 

This Legato - just a cold blooded robot.  Conrad shows up with his own Project Seeds jacket in white, symbolic of his role as a staff scientist.  It also has me wondering how old he is in this version.  Our Doctor has to stop Legato from killing the promising young Nicholas for the greater goals.

The flashback ends and Vash and Wolfwood are arguing again as Vash is interfering wanting to help.

Vash managed to pin down Livio in a rather smooth action sequence with lots of empty shells bouncing around as he tries to figure out what is up when he calls out Wolfwood’s name.

This catches Livio’s attention who says that he needs to catch up [to Wolfwood] and easily launches Vash off into the air while Wolfwood randomly declares that he can’t let the two of them kill each other.

So, when did you become friends with Vash, Wolfwood?  You only showed up in episode four and here in six you are his friend?  You’ve had no bonding!  There was no foray into the desert to rescue a child or bus ride.  No tournament or situation with a runaway kid where your philosophies aligned and clashed.  You haven’t gotten drunk together.

But hey, we now have Wolfwood’s flashback and we know he cares about Livio his adoptive younger brother who can’t kill his other friend Vash. This. Does. Not. Work.  I see two random men in sunglasses who just argue with each other.

Zazie the Beast and Livio approach the Sandsteamer as Legato reads the ‘bible’ of the local religion and the two characters mock Wolfwood and his pinch.  Legato has decided emotions are for losers and Wolfwood has those pesky emotions!

We get it, Wolfwood is different and you are having fun watching him suffer.

They drive close enough to the Sandsteamer that Legato is able to stop an internal mechanism inside the the locomotive that causes it to veer off course.  It seems that Legato has leveled up in his own abilities instead of manipulating people to do things against their will.

I guess Legato is officially an ESPer instead to make him easier to understand.  I will miss that manga scene with the transport truck and the Calvary and the blood dripping onto the sand below. 

By diverting the steamer, it now is on a collision course with the Orphanage - which is apparently the entire town?  This is as confusing as the Terminal being a Terminal alone.

At the same time the Bad Lads Gang have appeared.  And with our simplified plot we know - they were brought here by Knives.

Why do Legato and Zazie the Beast care what Wolfwood does next?  If they see themselves above human emotions why do they care at all?

And with that the episode ends on a cliffhanger. 

We will learn in episode seven what happened to Meryl and Roberto and perhaps the man himself will appear.  B.D.N. that is!

My immediate reaction to this episode -

Wolfwood’s backstory was way too soooooon!  Far too soon!  Was this even earned Studio Orange?

For a few points, I’m going to tap some of my conversation from my good meta friend Merdopseudo.

1.) A good stand alone episode.  Technically, and by itself this was a good episode.  Merdo points out it is fine as an episode but its structure is also its weakness, indicative of the issues that have plagued the series.  Where does this fit in the overall structure of the story?  What purpose does it serve in advancing the plot?  The episode is fine.  You can watch it and be entertained.

2.) Wolfwood’s backstory is unearned.  We get Wolfwood’s tragic backstory far to early into the plot.  He appeared two episodes ago, seems to be a dude who is rude and will kill if necessary.  We don’t know what it at stake for him.  What does he do normally?  Where is his moral compass?  What is he doing in this whole mess.  Why do we even care?  Right now, Wolfwood is a kid with a big fucking gun and apparently had a friend named Livio.  The found brothers trope also falls flat despite the technically excellent 2D silent film flashback.  The backstory in this episode is just ‘put there’ in an attempt to humanize this version of Wolfwood.

3.) Vash and Wolfwood are not friends. Yep, I will continue to say this.  They are not friends.  Wolfwood is an annoying guy following Vash around because those are his orders.  They have not bonded in their adventures, nor have they argued about how to act.  They both jumped into save a girl, rode the bus to May city/Augusta.  They in the anime had more bonding at the competition and fought over the rights of the individual versus the rights of the collective.  In the manga the bonding is a bit later but still happens over several volumes and Wolfwood gets tied into Vash’s heroic antics from time to time.

4.) The pacing is paradoxical.  This is Merdopseudo’s best point.  With the predicted 12-13 episodes, this story needed tight-super tight plot beats.  Instead, individual episodes are slow while the combined episodes are rapid leading to this disconnect.  This is the best highlight of the writing problems that have plagued this series from the start.

This ties into what I have also been most critical of - the pacing.  There is no room to breathe between episodes yet, certain episodes linger and waste time on things which are unnecessary.  This is a lot of the CGI scenes of how E.G. drove his wheel or how Rollo was watching Vash dodge and stuff like that.  Or the man with the lights guiding the Sandsteamer out of port.  Just lots of strange shots that visually look cool but don’t help the story.

Which gets back to Merdo’s theory that this is all just a demo for Studio Orange for future projects and investors.

And as this continues, I become more pessimistic that this indeed is the purpose of Trigun Stampede.  Studio Orange took on Stampede because it was a low risk project.  They updated the look for a more modern audience and don’t have to worry about upsetting the original fans of the anime or manga since it was domestically a flop and obscure.  Clean it up with characters that are for the domestic audience, simplify the plot beyond recognition and make it dazzling to the eyes.  It is only 12-13 episodes, it will pull in better projects in the future.

Studio Orange isn’t going to care about the non-Japanese, specifically very likely vocal American fanbase.  We aren’t there buying the new merch at Animate. Hell, it is currently and annoyingly out of print with Darkhorse here in North America.  Why keep all the elements that made it a smash hit elsewhere?  It doesn’t help their bottom line.

Thus, Trigun Stampede is a product that does not take the elements of the original anime from Studio Madhouse and the lore of Trigun Maximum to deliver a cohesive product that gives us the magic sauce that made the original so good.  It was never their intention to present us with faithful adaptions of the original series and characters.  They clearly don’t care for the original themes, character morals, questions, struggles, successes, failures and sacrifices that made the original such an emotional high hitter.

Quick character notes:

1.) Our dud duo - Meryl and Roberto.  For once, Meryl sticks to her guns and is able to guilt Roberto into continuing.  Good for her, but doesn’t amount to much in terms of plot.  She stood up for herself and made a valid argument and her senior colleague agreed.  Wow.

2.) Vash.  Is more assertive with Meryl and Roberto away from him, and finally asks Wolfwood what his deal is.  He has some decent fight scenes with Livio but honestly, doesn’t do much else in the episode due to the Wolfwood heavy plot.

3.) Wolfwood’s premature backstory.  Fails his character greatly.  Wolfwood is a character of great nuance, moral struggles and lots of questioning in a good way.  We see none of that and get his backstory upfront almost as quickly as Vash’s.  This attempt to humanize him without knowing him does not serve his character.  This also doesn’t work with his previous religious associations which are why he was a more powerful character in the original versions.  We know he believes in God, though he’s not naive enough to believe that faith in God will solve his problems.  If anything he sees that humanity’s flaws and dark sides force humans to become devils at times (a line both used in the anime and manga).  The anime leans in much harder with the priest aspect of his character with his first and last confession in the church before he dies.  The manga instead has him die at peace sharing a drink with Vash as he’s ‘thanked’ by the younger children of the orphanage.  Either way, both of these endings for him show that he’s a man who has a moral code derived from a very Catholic theology and he struggles with balancing that with his own actions trapped between powers greater than him.  He has a clear line between acts of divine beings such as God and Angels and how it is impossible for a single individual to meet those and instead must learn to live with their actions and how painful it is to directly contradict your own moral code.

4.) Legato Bluesummers is a ‘robot’ with a bad haircut.  This version of Legato is not the nihilistic, self-destructive one of the anime and manga.  He mocks others and sees himself as superior to orphans like Wolfwood. He wants to watch a moral quandary but does Wolfwood really have a moral dilemma? Is he religious or is he reading a religious text to mock it due its emphasis of faith and emotions?  Like Wolfwood, his power is also much greater, if this were the original he would have made that random train engineer dude destroy the moving part while dying in the process.  Now, he just goes ‘whoosh’ and it breaks.  Boo - I miss his sadistic tendencies. 5.) Livio is another ‘robot’.  But with a hangup to be like Nicholas!  I bet.  Unless, he also gets a long flashback, his character has been likely completely retconned to the extreme.  Lazy writing would indicate that Razlo the Tri-punisher was a result of his mind splitting due to the experiments.  That’s my prediction if we do get his backstory.  Not due to other things . . .

6.) Zazie the Beast.  Is weird.  Look, I’m playing cat’s cradle and I made a spider web.  Humans are so dumb, mwahahahahahaha!  I’m also filling in for Leonof the Puppermaster with my insect spycams/drones.

My snark is coming out in my character responses here, but really are these characters with depth or characters checking boxes like a game of Bingo.  I’m curious to see how many of my predictions pan out in future episodes of if they will leave us in the dark. 

As far as themes, this episode doesn’t really have one that stands out. Other than adults treat children very poorly in this place and even if you are a masked religious woman, you have to have big tits.

[merinsedai]

More bingo snippets

for the @dreamlingbingo

snippet 1/4

Square/Prompt:E3- Bad Pick Up Lines

Title: Robert Gadling's Diary

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: Bridget Jones' Diary au, general silliness,

It's me again, filling some more prompts with this silly AU of Bridget Jones. But Merin, you cry, will you ever write something where you haven't transposed the characters into a different story? To which I reply.... no? Well, maybe. That can be a 2025 goal. For now, have more au silliness. I have.... 4.... of these I think.

“You know my Robert, don’t you?” she trills. “He used to run around your lawn with no clothes on, remember?”

Fucking hell,  Hob really wishes he’d had the balls to say no to the turkey curry buffet for once. Then he’d have been at home with his head down the toilet, same as all normal people in this Twixmas week instead of being subject to the mortifying ordeal that is his mother’s bizarre attempt at setting him up with an (admittedly handsome) stranger.

Said handsome stranger certainly looks as if he wished that Hob had stayed at home as well, despite the fact they’ve not exchanged a single word. His sharp blue-eyed gaze sweeps over Hob once before settling back on his face, managing to convey an expression of supreme and haughty disdain with just the slight curl of his lip. It is actually quite impressive.

“Not as such, no,” Morpheus says in a surprisingly deep and measured voice. Dammit, nice face. Nice voice. Why couldn’t he have the nice personality too? Holy Trinity, that. Not that Hob is adverse to nasty bastards per se. Especially pretty ones… maybe his mother had chosen well for once?

“Well, I’ll leave you to it!” Hob’s mother says brightly. “Una’s been on the gravy and it’ll need sieving, mark my words! Have fun, darlings!” And she sashays away, taking the plate of gherkins with her. Hob didn’t even get the opportunity to ask if Morpheus wanted one. That would have given him something to say at least. 

There is a long moment of awkward silence, which Morpheus doesn’t seem inclined to break, so Hob does.

“So, are you staying with your parents for Christmas?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Hob waits a moment to see if there will be any elaboration to this statement but there isn’t.

“I’ve just arrived today. Been down in London, partying, y’know. Killer hangover but, “ he waggles the glass in his hand, half-full and still glistening with condensation, “hair of the dog, n’ all!”

“I see.”

“Got any plans for New Year?”

“No.”

Bloody hell, this bloke is hard work. Hob’s not been subject to monosyllables since high school. Still, he’s not one to back away from a challenge. He’s good at making people laugh, at forging a connection through humour. Maybe some silly pick lines will help break the ice and loosen this guy up.

“Is your dad a boxer?” he asks and Morpheus’s eyebrows draw down in confusion at the non sequitur .

“What?”

“‘Cause you’re a knockout.” Hob says with a wink. “Or maybe you’re an artist?”

“I am a lawyer,” Morpheus frowns, showing not one bit of recognition of these ridiculous lines. 

“Oh? ‘Cause you’re doing a really good job of drawing me in!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, my mother’s trying to set us up,” Hob says cheerfully, reaching out and poking Morpheus in the chest in what he hopes is a conspiratorial manner. Luckily he remembers to do this with the hand holding his champagne flute and not the one holding his burning cigarette. Things probably can’t get that much worse, but burning a hole in a suit jacket that looks like it cost more than Hob’s yearly rent would definitely make it so.  “And you’re much better looking than her usual picks, so I thought I’d give it my best shot!”

“And that was your best shot?” Morpheus says, managing to combine flatness and incredulity in one measured tone. “Corny puns about my possible profession?”

“Ah well, I thought so. Shall I try a different one? Hm..” Hob takes a pull on his cigarette, humming thoughtfully. “Ok, how about: ‘do you have WiFi, because I think we have a connection,” he laughs at the faintly repulsed look on Morpheus’s face. “No? What about ‘are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile!”

“And this normally works for you, does it?” Morpheus asks before Hob can go on. “When you are… ‘Picking someone up”? He laces the words with derision and Hob huffs a laugh. Blimey, this guy is uptight. Not the hint of a smile from him. Not even an indulgent eye-roll.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he admits with a shrug. “Makes people laugh at least, starts the conversation going. It’s just a bit of lighthearted cheesiness. And hey, apparently there’s even been research about it. The things people will research nowadays, eh?”

“I see,” Morpheus’s tone is clipped. Unimpressed and dismissive.  “Well. As… illustrative as this conversation has been, I believe it is time to. Eat.” he nods his head in dismissal. “Good evening.”

[heyclickadee]

Tech’s Alive, Part 6: The Matter of Weight (cw for discussions of death, suicide mention, genocide mention)

AKA, why “Tech should stay dead for the stakes” and “Tech should stay dead so the moment he sacrifices himself retains its weight” are arguments I will not be entertaining in this household. And by this household, I mean my blog. But also probably my actual apartment here in real space.

So, this isn’t really an argument for why Tech is alive, per se. It’s more just me trying to counter the two most common arguments I see people making for why he should be dead, whether the person making the argument thinks he’s dead or not.

Stakes:

The first argument, that Tech should stay dead for the sake of the “stakes” is, to me, the most nebulous. On this here interwebs we tend to talk about “stakes” purely in the negative; everyone’s going to die, the villains are going to win, everything is going to be sad forever, etc. But stakes in a story are really just about potential consequences—what could happen if the characters succeed, and what could happen if they fail. And while it’s true that killing a character can raise the stakes in a story, it’s best accomplished by killing off a secondary character, and it can really only raise them in a story in which death was never a potential consequence.

Death has always been a potential consequence for these characters, not just for failure, but just for existing in the world in which they live. Scratch that, dying is quite literally what they were made to do. This is a series in which two genocides have already taken place—that of the Jedi, then of the Kaminoans—and which has us watching a third ongoing—that of the clones themselves. Almost every new named clone we’ve met has died, and died violently. The clone force 99 characters have all almost died about once an episode so far, and every time they do, the show tends to treat it as a serious close call.

So killing off Tech doesn’t raise the potential consequences of failure to “death” because that potential was always there. Killing off a secondary but known clone character like, say, Howser could have made heightened that risk more effectively. Heck, Mayday’s death does a better job of raising that risk for Crosshair, for example; the only reason Crosshair wasn’t the one who died in the avalanche was was because Mayday noticed the rock and pushed Crosshair out of the way. Killing off Tech and leaving him dead, by contrast, would actually, in a way, lower the stakes—because, again, the risk of “potential consequences” is gone (it’s just reality now), AND stakes are also about what could happen if the characters succeed and get what they want. Meaning that if Tech’s gone for good, the potential positive consequences are much, much lower. The positive consequence of the clone force 99 family reuniting—the thing the story keeps making us want—would just be gone. There’s only so far you can ratchet the spring of tension before it snaps.

That said, when some people argue for Tech’s death in favor of raised stakes, I don’t think the above is really what they’re talking about. They’re mostly making a somewhat edgelordy argument about death needing to feel real in the star war and darkness being the “mature” option. Let’s say I bought that argument. Let’s say I actually thought “the reality of death” and “maturity” were valid reasons to kill off a main character. Let’s even push aside all the reasons why I think killing off any one of the bad batchers permanently would break the story. Let’s do this thought experiment. Killing off Tech in this season and leaving him dead still doesn’t work, specifically because so much time this season was spent on developing and helping the other characters to understand him better.

You can spend time building up a character and developing them for the sole purpose of killing them and giving them a send-off if your show has an unserialized format. Think Gray’s Anatomy or Bones; unserialized shows are just taking the characters and putting them in different combinations or scenarios until the end of time without really worrying about arcs or narrative threads, so in that format spending time with a character before killing them off makes sense. Spending an entire season of a serialized show building up a character and their relationships, using them to develop certain themes and narrative threads, using them to push certain parts of the plot forward, and then killing them off in which a way which does nothing to resolve any of those arcs, themes, or narrative threads, though? That’s just a waste of time. Of limited time—because fully serialized shows have an ending. I’d be more willing to buy into this line of argument if it was Wrecker, not Tech, simply because he hasn’t had the kind of development Tech has.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d still absolutely hate it and would see perma-deathing Wrecker as just as story breaking as perma-deathing Tech. But if we’re doing the thought experiment where I’m talking about stakes the way some people seem to be doing, I could see it working better in that context than perma-deathing Tech. People can make that argument about Tech’s “death,” sure, but what they’re really advocating for is bad writing. And hey! Maybe we’ll get to the end of the show and it will turn out to have been badly written! I just…don’t really buy that right now.

(Of course, this is all moot anyway, because I fundamentally disagree with the definition of stakes being used by some people making this argument and see this line of thinking as somewhat edgelordy bologna anyway. But! Moving on.)

Wanting Tech’s Sacrifice to Have Weight:

So, I’m more sympathetic to this line of thinking. I don’t agree with it, but I can kind of respect where it’s coming from. I’ve mostly seen this from people who really hate the idea that Tech is dead, but don’t see a way for the moment in which Tech sacrifices himself to maintain its emotional weight if it turns out he’s alive, and who want the writers to respect Tech’s choice. And I get that. I’ve watched more than one show that had some big emotional moment that got completely ruined by being undone or having some other development come up later on. So it’s not that I think this argument is invalid; I just don’t think it applies in this specific case.

Because…okay, first, when it comes to the writers respecting Tech’s choice, I want us to think really hard about what he’s choosing to do. Because he’s not choosing to die. Not exactly. He’s choosing to do something extremely risky that will probably get him killed, and he knows it, in order to save his family. And I know it maybe doesn’t seem like there’s a distinction there, but there is one, and it’s important, because—I mean—listen to that last heavy sigh he gives before his last line. He doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want to die. He just doesn’t see any way out for the others if he doesn’t risk it. (Also I feel like the “the writers need to respect his choice argument” really kind of…not…real great bad, actually, it’s real bad guys, even if he was choosing to die, specifically, because that’s way too close to advocating for suicide for comfort. I don’t think that’s what anyone is intending by this argument but….)

Second, I don’t agree that Tech’s “death” is what gives that moment its emotional weight. Let’s say that Tech does die here. Let’s say he really isn’t coming back. In that case, his death is kind of meaningless, because he was going to die anyway. If we’re saying he died, then it was either all of them die, or just him. Which means that the thing that gives that moment weight can’t be his death, because he had no way out of dying, if we’re looking at it that way and accepting that he’s just gone for good.

The thing that gives that moment weight—just a warning, I’m about to get tooth-achingly schmaltzy here, and I’m not sorry—is love. It’s everyone in the batch’s love for Tech shattering into a million little pieces of grief and horror as they watch him fall. It’s Tech loving his family so damn much he refuses to even consider letting them fall with him. It’s Tech, not knowing that he’s a character in a story, looking at the situation, knowing what he’s about to do will probably kill him—because if he wasn’t a character in a story, it probably would—knowing that if he does it he’ll probably never see Crosshair again, never see Echo or Hunter at peace, never get to hear Wrecker laugh again, never get to see Omega grow up, and still choosing to take the fall for them because there’s no chance he’d let them take the same risk. That’s why that moment has meaning. And because that’s where the meaning comes from, I can’t see how that meaning or weight would evaporate if he came back.

I mean—let’s say you were waking down the street with a friend. You step out in front of a bus, purely by accident. Your friend notices and pushes you out of the way, and in so doing steps in front of the bus, gets hit, and miraculously survives. Does their survival do anything to decrease the fact that they were willing to get hit by a bus for you? Are we really going to argue “death, or it doesn’t count” when it comes to self-sacrifice?

Furthermore, the “Tech has to stay dead for his sacrifice to have weight” argument seems to be made at least partly from the point of view that “dead” and “fully abled” are the only two options. They’re not. Other people have covered the possibility that Tech will come back with a physical disability that he has to adjust to way better than I ever could, but that’s a very real consequence the show could deal with.

I don’t really have a conclusion to this. Basically, while I have seen the stakes and weight arguments floating around, I don’t really see either of them as valid narrative arguments for keeping Tech dead, and I wanted to explain why.

[skylarmoon71]

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds) Chapter 33

"Good morning.” Garcia greets.

You send her a smile.

“Good morning Penelope.”

She has a pep in her step, but that abruptly stops.

“Penelope! You never call me Penelope!”

Why does it feel like this has happened before? Now you have the attention of Morgan, Prentiss and Reid.

“I promise nothing bad happened. Actually I..I spoke with my dad a few days ago. “

“Dad, you mean the dad that you had a really bad relationship with?”

She takes a seat. The rest of the team has gathered around.

“Yes, that one.” You chuckle.

“After my mother passed we just sort of drifted apart. I didn’t agree with the way he handled his grief and he didn’t agree with mine. But I think we’ve finally found a balance. He came over and we just talked about her for hours. It was nice.” Morgan pats your shoulder.

“That’s great. Glad you’re patching things up with him. “

“I’m so proud of you.”

Garcia leans over, hugging you. Hotch steps out of the elevator at that very moment.

“Are we celebrating something?” He asks.

“Just a milestone in (Y/N)’s family development.”

Garcia praises. She pulls back, and you feel somewhat exposed with his gaze on you. After the chat with your dad, you sort of gained a new perspective. It would definitely take some time for you to get over your feelings for Hotch. In truth it may never happen. What you knew is that you loved this job, and your team. Having their support was more than anything you could ask for.

“Can I see you in my office?”

“Yes sir.”

You stand, and Garcia sends you a thumbs up. You figure this is merely an assessment he’s going to make on your progress as part of the team.

You close the door, and Hotch offers you a seat. You take it, smiling.

“I’m relieved to hear about the progress you’ve made with your father. I know it hasn’t been easy. Adjusting to a new team, then with my leave after what happened with Hailey. I’ve been a bit absent.”

“Sir, you don’t have to worry. I completely understand. I’m very happy that it all worked out.”

“So am I.”

The smile that you wear this time is different. Your focus shifts over the dull light that’s seeping from his shoulders. You blink, and the warm glow is now covered all over his body.

“Is he..am I seeing his..”

You’re a bit puzzled by this particular quirk. It’s the first time this has happened. This doesn’t feel bad per se. If anything it feels amazing. It’s like you had materialized his joy.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, would you like to have dinner with me?”

The glow has you momentarily distracted, so it takes a moment to really let the statement sink in.

“Sure.”

Dinner….

“Wait did you say dinner?”

Hotch smiles. “You’ve been working very hard these past couple of months. I’d like to treat you to dinner if that’s alright.”

“O-Of course sir I-I’d love to have dinner with you!” You cringe. That sounds a bit too desperate.

“Totally professional of course.” You clear your throat.

“I’d like that.”

Hell, you’d love that.

Now that’s all you’re going to be thinking about.

~~

For the next few days, you’re working as usual. With an unsub on a spree, most of the focus is tracking him down and stopping the killings. It took quite some time, but the man was caught. As he’s being led to the police car, you can feel yourself relax. The trip back home has you calm. You’d found a seat in the back to get comfortable. Hotch takes a seat on the opposite side of you.

“Good work today.”

“Thank you sir.”

It was always nice to get praise from Hotch. He looks down on his watch.

“We should be back around eight, if you’re still up for dinner, there is somewhere close to Quantico that would be great.”

“Dinner?”

Oh shit!

“You forgot.” Hotch asks amused. Flustered, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so invested in the case, it completely slipped my mind.”

“No need to apologize. I respect that you put your all in these cases. If today doesn’t work we can always reschedule.”

“N-No today works fine.”

He leans back in his seat.

“Then I’ll make the reservation.”

He pulls out his phone, and you want to jump out of your seat and do a happy dance, but you control yourself.

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 28 - BLUNT

Sid can be a little bit indelicate, but Rielle can be pretty blunt herself.

(I swear I don't want to become "The SidWoL Guy" but I went to a movie tonight so I didn't have a lot of time to brainstorm/write and this was such low-hanging fruit. I swear I'll come up with a better ship eventually. Until then, please enjoy Rielle being smarter than Sid and Rhiki combined. And also a teenager.)

Rating: General Genre: Fluff, humor Characters: Rielle de Caulignont, Sidurgu Orl, Z'rhik Irhi (Warrior of Light) (referenced) Relationships: Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light (implied) Word Count: 876 Content Warnings: None

The door to the Forgotten Knight didn’t need a bell – it creaked loudly enough to signal the arrival of any new patrons. Out of the corner of her eye, Rielle saw Sid stiffen, his eyes flying to the open door, only to relax again when he saw the mud-caked laborer slumping through it. She rolled her eyes. This was getting painful to watch. Sid had been jumpy ever since they’d received word that Rhiki would be passing through Ishgard in the next few days. Well, not jumpy, per se – he wasn’t really expressive enough for that to be accurate – but she could tell he was anxious with anticipation.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited about Rhiki visiting,” she complained as he settled back into his beer.

“What? What are you talking about?” He was trying to sound confused, but doing a poor job. She’d come to realize he wasn’t actually very good at lying. Despite the muted quality of his expressions and mannerisms (well, other than the angry ones), he was quite easy to read if you knew what you were looking for.

“I said I don’t know why you’re so excited. You obviously are: you’ve been watching the door like a hawk for the past two days, and you’ve insisted on going out to wander around more than usual.”

He huffed, frowning and trying to play off his unwillingness to meet her gaze as offense rather than embarrassment. “I am not excited. To see Rhiki, or about anything else.”

Ugh. Why did he always have to be so difficult? “You’re just going to say something stupid and make her mad again.” She informed him in annoyance. The two were always bickering over something. They rarely got into real fights anymore, not like they had in the beginning, but they did seem to enjoy their petty arguments. She had no idea why. It was like they didn’t know how to be nice to each other without veiling it behind playful jabs and affectionate pejoratives. Though he tried to hide it behind a scowl, she could tell that Sid secretly liked it when Rhiki teased him. Usually, anyway. But sometimes he still said things so blunt that they actually upset her.

“And even if you don’t end up fighting, you’re just going to stare at her with that look on your face whenever you think she isn’t watching.”

“What look?” Sid demanded, seeming more convincingly annoyed this time. Probably because he was.

Rielle made a face. “That look that you do. Like an abandoned chocobo chick that’s been left out in the cold. I don’t know what you would call it, but it’s sad to look at.”

“Hey!”

She rolled her eyes at him again. She wasn’t telling him anything that wasn’t true. He wasn’t as subtle as he obviously thought he was. She was honestly surprised that Rhiki hadn’t noticed it – she was usually so perceptive about other people’s feelings. Sensitive to them. Not like Sid, who wouldn’t recognize an emotion if it bit him on the arse. It seemed so obvious to her, but Sid seemed to be something of a blind spot for Rhiki.

“You two should just kiss already and get it over with.” She said, giving him a pointed look.

“What?!” The firelight made it hard to tell, but she thought he was blushing. Rhiki was right, it was funny to see him so flustered. No wonder she liked teasing him so much.

Rielle shrugged. “It’s obvious you like her. So, you should just tell her, or kiss her, or… do whatever adults do when they like each other. I mean, I know what normal adults do, but-“

Sid grimaced, still trying to hide his mortification behind a stern expression. “Well, of course I like her. She’s a fellow Dark Knight and a friend and she’s helped us out more than a few- Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?!” He didn't wait for an answer. “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”

He was so stubborn. Or stupid. Or maybe both. It was hard to tell. “Well, suit yourself then,” she relented in exasperation. “Sit there and pine, or whatever you want to call it. See if I care. I just don’t want to watch you sulk when someone else finally gets up the nerve to admit their feelings to her. It’s bound to happen, you know. She’s the Warrior of Light, after all. And she’s fun. And nice. I’m sure she has lots of admirers.”

Sid looked affronted, but also too rattled to form a quick rebuttal. When he had found his words again, all he had to say was: “I don’t know what sort of books you’ve been reading or what’s gotten the idea into your head, but I do not like Rhiki. Well, I like her, of course, but not, you know….”

“Sure, Sid. Whatever you say.” Fine. He could be that way if he liked. He was only hurting himself. And her, a little, by forcing her to watch him brood. If he wanted to suffer, he was welcome to it. Far be it from her to get in the way of his masochism.

She was definitely still going to tease him about it, though.

[mizkit]

new blog post: Process Post: on edit letters

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/process-post-on-edit-letters/

Process Post: on edit letters

There was a discussion going on over on Bluesky about dealing with edit letters, and this truth came up: “Editors aren’t always right about the solutions, but they’re nearly always right about the problems.”

That thread went on to discuss how the person quoting it, who happens to be KJ Charles whose books I read all of last year and who is also an editor, approaches edit letters; her approach involves suggesting ideas to fix the problems, because it opens the writer’s mind to the possiblity that the book could have something different happen in that moment, and also it gives them something to reject/bounce off/spitefully correct. Which, like: that seems very valid.

That said, I have recently watched friends get SUPER LONG, to my mind, edit letters, 70%+ of which are ideas & suggestions as how to tackle problems, and I honestly think my brain would explode. My editors have VERY MUCH been of the “this is a problem, pls fix” approach, rather than the “let us brainstorm!” approach, and I think that works for me.

Like, I’ve talked about my two worst revision requests: the short letter that said “these 6 things are wrong, pls fix,” which required forcibly inserting a plot into the book (HOUSE OF CARDS), which had previously lacked one, & the phone call which said “can you cut the hero’s POV (40% of the book!) & revise the book to make that work” (TRUTHSEEKER & subsequently WAYFINDER bc hoo boy were there knock-on effects on that one).

Neither editor had any particular suggestions on how to do either of those things; the second one literally told me it was her job to see the problems and mine to figure out how to fix them.

For HOUSE OF CARDS, tbh, I’m not sure the editor saw the “this book has no plot” problem per se, but the 6 things that didn’t work for her were things that didn’t work BECAUSE there was no plot. It was really well written and drew the reader along, but it didn’t feel quite right, and the elements she picked up on were what should have been plot points but didn’t really support anything.

The “cut the hero’s POV” was bc the book, in the editor’s opinion, fell too perfectly between romance & fantasy & would satisfy neither audience (so it would have been PERFECT for the red-hot “romantasy” subgenre right now ahahah go me 15 years ahead of the curve for once instead of 5 years behind 😵‍💫)

That book, tbh, she was like, “I will send this to the romance line if you don’t want to do this bc this is a HUGE ask, so go think about that” & I thought about it & decided to do it (one of my friends got so upset on my behalf I had to talk HER off the ledge about MY revisions 😅), BUT!

In neither case did they really offer much solution, which is my preference, BUT ALSO: they weren’t wrong.

Editors are rarely wrong, or are wrong about the thing they’ve pointed out but not about SOMETHING in that thing’s support system, so fixing THAT will fix what they actually pointed out.

If I REALLY STRONGLY with them on a point I either discuss it with them or don’t do it, but…personally I prefer the freedom of “this doesn’t work, pls fix” with minimal other editorial input. Mind you, if I need the brainstorming, then my experience has been they’ll do that, which is great!

Which is all very much “ymmv” and “this is me” and not to say that the “here’s an idea so you can reject it” isn’t a totally valid approach that clearly must work for a lot of writers. :)

(The “cut the POV” editor once also asked, about SEAMASTER, which she wasn’t editing but I was having a hard time selling, if I could age up the characters to around 16 & I said, “NO!” indignantly, because I felt that their cusp-of-teenhood ages were very important to the story. Then, as the conversation progressed and I thought about it, I sullenly said, “i GUESS i could and it’d probably be FINE, but i don’t WANT to.”

She laughed at me for about ten minutes. :))

[lgcdanbi]

to think the end has finally come ! 3.5 years ago, i joined lgc - the first roleplay i joined in years where i didn’t know anyone else - scared but excited at what was to come in this amazing group. i’ve achieved so much with my muses, met so many incredible friends, and made such incredible memories along the way.

i’m slightly regretful that i couldn’t have had a better in-character send-off for danbi and nathan, but for anyone who knows me (or doesn’t know, hi if you’re still following this account!), my life has gotten increasingly busy and i’ve gotten less and less active. 3.5 years ago, i was still a college student with (honestly) all the free time in the world, but the past few months have been some of the busiest they’ve ever been - and it’s been such a shame to not be able to devote any of my available time to the one place that got me through the pandemic, moving across the country, starting a new job, and settling into my 20s.

now, don’t get me wrong - i’m not leaving permanently! i’ll still be on the admin team creating graphics, and who knows, i might come back with a new muse sooner than you (and maybe even i) think, but this chapter of my life with danbi and nathan has definitely come to a close.

under the cut, you’ll find my lasting thoughts on geum danbi and how i expect the rest of her life to go now that she’s left the company (and you’ll find a similar one for nathan on his account, too!). it’ll mostly be for me, so for anyone who’s still reading this - thank you for writing with me, danbi, and nathan! without you, lgc wouldn’t have become home. see you soon, and onto the next 🤍

with that all out of the way, i can finally write this long overdue love letter to my very first muse here at lgc - the longest (!) i’ve ever had a muse, infact.

dear danbi, you are so special to me. when i first envisioned you, you compensated in the role of a sweet, nice older sister that i doubted myself to be. writing you was therapeutic in that way - it wasn’t joy, per se, but a comfort if not to anyone else but me. i won’t lie that my development for you was minimal, if not nonexistent, and for that, i can only apologize. there were so many things - so many things, i swear! - i had planned, but alas, i only have myself to blame that those never came to fruition. at the very least, you found success, friendship, love - and that’s all anyone ever needs in life, right? danbi, i love you, and i hope you’re happier now.

ic-wise, i think danbi’s thoughts of leaving probably started around the preparations for their japanese debut. the anxiety and worry about their japanese promotions was more than she ever had for actually debuting, and i think that all finally came to a point when they were able to come back to korea and take a break for a bit.

after 5 (!) years of training, i think she’ll look back on life and think she has more regrets than she initially thought. not going to college, being away from her family - all for a job that still terrifies her after all this time (and at her big age of twenty 26 lol). 

she’d leave quietly and with a smile, not a sob, when she finally says good-bye. moving out of the dorm would be bittersweet - and she’d feel guilty, definitely, for leaving the crystallis girls when they needed her most (but would put in a great recommendation as @lgcyura for their new leader!).

she definitely had her kdrama moment with @lgcjaesun - in my dreams, she’d say, ���if we find our way back to each other, we’re meant to be. if that’s the case, let’s get married - i’ll try not to look forward to it.”

she’ll move back to daejeon and go from being an idol to a successful fan of crystallis and, of course, her little sister @lgcnabi!

i’d like to think that she went back to school - got her degree in marketing or something, so she can be close to the entertainment industry without necessarily being in the spotlight herself. 

yeah, it’s better that way. :’)

[danco110]

“…Yes, you do, Kliment. You love replicating results.”

“Well, we don’t exactly love to, per se. But we are good at it.”

The vedalken engineer shrugged their shoulders at the Dimir reporter tailing through the air behind them. They took a deep breath, already mentally preparing themself for the next round of questions from the barely-disguised faerie.

“But, if you don’t want to, then why do it? Why is your whole job just to…copy your coworkers?”

“Because, Daza,” smirked the vedalken, as they glanced over their shoulder, “I know you forget this, and in fact eighty-nine percent of the city forgets this as well, but at the end of the day, we are engineers.”

“So?”

“Civil engineers. As in, infrastructure. Which definitely needs replicated results.”

Daza bit back a sarcastic laugh. “Please. The Gruul build better roads through the Rubblebelt than anything you mad scientists make.”

“But no one else would volunteer to do the work here in the city!”

Daza turned to confront the new voice, coming face to face with a human guildmage standing behind her. The new arrival adjusted the gauntlet on her arm with exaggerated motions as she continued to address the Dimir’s claims.

“No one else stepped up when the Guildpact was first signed, and no one else has since. And besides, who exactly would fill that role? You spies?”

Daza scoffed defensively. “Ah, well, for your information, Runa! We Dimir already perform several valuable public services! We’re librarians, historians-”

“Black ops.”

“-Exactly! What’s one more duty, right? How hard could it be?”

Runa shrugged. “It depends. What mix design would you use for concrete?”

“Er…well…” Daza trailed off. “Okay, fine, maybe we’re not the best fit.”

Runa nodded, while Kliment gave a boisterous laugh. The guildmage smugly charged her gauntlet, a web of blue lightning arcing across its surface.

“Yeah, you’re not.”

[Inspiration: both Beamsplitter and Guildmage can copy spells!

Also, I like to think that Gruul trails through the Rubblebelt are actually pretty solid, especially since they still need to accommodate giants and cyclopes and the like, but don’t suffer from near as much use or congestion as the city proper!]

[sekhithefops]

Thoughts: Healing Magic in the WoW universe and Cancer.

Hello everyone.

Let me ask a question.

How many of us, when life gets rough and painful, like to imagine our Azerothian counterparts from Warcraft sorting the situation out? Its a fun little coping mechanism isn't it?

Day been rough and stressful? Nice to think of getting a big hug from a pandaren.

Having to deal with someone at a job you'd really rather not? Isn't it just great to imagine a big burly orc knocking their lights out?

And when tragedy strikes us or our loved ones in the form of injury or illness... I think we've all wished for a world where our Priests, Shaman, Paladins, and the rest could help us heal them haven't we?

Oh for a world where the cure to our ills was a simple prayer to the Light, a whispered service to the Elements, or what have you...

Anyways... someone close to me, I'll leave out who in particular out of respect for their privacy, received some horrible news today. A close family member has been diagnosed with cancer.

As I suggested above, my first thought is... yep... I wish Sekhi or Nitika or any of my other WoW characters could swoop in and save the day with some magic.

But after the news had sunk in my overactive imagination kept going and... well... a new thought popped into my head concerning the nature of cancer.

You see... cancer isn't an injury or illness per se... cancer is when your own body turns against itself.

A Brief Aside on the Nature of Cancer

To quote the NCI or National Cancer Institute:

"Cancer is a disease in which some of the body’s cells grow uncontrollably and spread to other parts of the body. 

Cancer can start almost anywhere in the human body, which is made up of trillions of cells. Normally, human cells grow and multiply (through a process called cell division) to form new cells as the body needs them. When cells grow old or become damaged, they die, and new cells take their place.

Sometimes this orderly process breaks down, and abnormal or damaged cells grow and multiply when they shouldn’t. These cells may form tumors, which are lumps of tissue. Tumors can be cancerous or not cancerous (benign). 

Cancerous tumors spread into, or invade, nearby tissues and can travel to distant places in the body to form new tumors (a process called metastasis). Cancerous tumors may also be called malignant tumors. Many cancers form solid tumors, but cancers of the blood, such as leukemias, generally do not.

Benign tumors do not spread into, or invade, nearby tissues. When removed, benign tumors usually don’t grow back, whereas cancerous tumors sometimes do. Benign tumors can sometimes be quite large, however. Some can cause serious symptoms or be life threatening, such as benign tumors in the brain."

You can see the full article on this here.

This in turn made me think of something else.

I've been a visitor to Azeroth since before World of Warcraft existed and I've picked up quite a bit of lore as the huge mountain of fanfiction Adventures in Azeroth may have hinted.

If you read it.

You should really read it, I put a lot of work into it.

Moving on... it made me think of, in particular... the Forsaken, and how they show that healing magic is not always a good thing.

Forsaken and the Light

The Forsaken's relationship with the Light is not a very good one. In WoW cannon there are only two Forsaken characters who canonically use the Light at all even!

These two are the Archbishop Alonsus Faol, who priests would remember meeting during Legion...

And, of course, the newest member of the Forsaken. Former Princess of Lordaeron turned into the only known Lightforged Undead, Calia Menethil.

Canonically, any other Forsaken priests are Shadow priests rather than Holy or Discipline. This is going all the way back to the original World of Warcraft lore back at release. The Forsaken can use the Light for gameplay reasons, but there's a very good reason they don't in the actual canon.

You see, it has to do with the fact that they're undead.

The Forsaken exist in a state of sensory depravation, but in their case its a good thing.

Their bodies are dead. Their flesh is rotten and putrefied. Their teeth are moldy. Their skin flaking away to expose bone and nerve endings.

Normally a Forsaken heals themselves by consuming humanoid bodies or by things like Warlock Health Stones or Drain Life... but the Light does something horrible to the Forsaken.

It allows them to feel again, and they don't like it!

Being healed by the Light undoes the sensory depravation that the Forsaken experience, allowing them to taste the rot in their mouths, feel the exposed bone and nerve endings in their flesh, become acutely aware of their rotten forms, even when its used to heal them!

It may happen if a Druid or Shaman uses their powers to heal them, I don't know, but for a Priest or Paladin it is guaranteed. The ONLY known exceptions being Faol and Menethil as I mentioned above.

Which brings us back to the main topic.

Cancer isn't an invasive force like a virus or bacteria or a physical injury like a cut or bruise. Its the victim's body turned against itself.

Would a healing spell make the cancer go away... or would it "heal" the cancerous cells themselves?

A. Healing Magic Would Make the Cancer Worse

Since the cancer is part of the victim gone out of control, its possible that a healing spell would treat the cancer the same as it would the host.

Best case scenario, it cancels itself out and nothing changes.

Worst case scenario, the cancer cells become empowered and multiply faster!

It would make sense that there must be limits to healing magic in Azeroth or else why would anyone ever die?

Cancer and conditions like it could be among those limits. Healing magic would heal the victim's body, but since cancer is the victim's body... well, yeah.

B. Of Course it'd Help! Its MAGIC!

Its also possible that it could, well, just work because its magic. It breaks the laws of reality and nature simply by the fact that you can use it AT ALL!

A druid flexes her body and suddenly she's a panther. A mage gestures and his foe explodes in a burst of flames. A warlock grabs and pulls at the air and a hole rips in reality to allow their hellish minions entry.

In this situation, cancer would be the same as any other malady to a healer. They do their magical wand waving and POP all better, that'll be a 20,000 gold copay please.

C. Magic Could Help... but it'll be Messy.

Maybe, it'd take both an offensive spellcaster AND a healer.

What if a Mage's control over fire could cauterize away the cancer cells in a manner akin to radiation treatment, and a shaman or priest could then heal the burns that left?

Of course, spells like that would rely on line of sight... which would make this effectively arcane surgery. Someone would have to (ahem) allow for the mage to SEE the cancer to target it... as in, they'd have to cut the patient open so the mage could aim his spells properly. This would mean that the healer would have to also pull double duty as life support, which would in turn require them to control their healing magic as precisely as possible so that they don't accidentally go too far and close the incision the mage needs to attack the offending tumors!

But yes, this is simply a thought I had today and I felt was worth sharing. My mind does go on some weird tangents sometimes doesn't it?

I do hope we have some good news about the aforementioned cancer patient that sparked this line of thought, but... well, only time will tell there. At least I have something to distract myself from that line of thinking.