#i’ve joked about her standards in the two universes being so opposite

[siilvan]

OHHHHH MY GOD I’M SO IN LOVE I CAN’T BELIEVE IT NRD I LOVE YOU 🩷🫶🩷

Mylène "Petra" Scholten de Ridder belongs to @siilvan and she is a unique character, because she has this multiverse, in which she is paired with two polar characters. So her story is always a bit tragic to me, because in every story there is this bitter taste of the love (from another story), that can never happen.

Masterlist

OCs Masterlist (Zhar and Riot so far)

[ladykailolu]

So My Ace Attorney + OC, Blondie Missterrie

I’ve been procrastinating talking about her because she’s ALOT

Cause I use her for two fandoms see,

There’s this really good mobile game series called Criminal Case, it seems like just your standard time waster puzzle game but it’s so much more, there are these “districts” that basically function as seasons, and every season there’s like a running plot,

The characters are really cute and interesting,

There characters have a lot of personality and the plot builds on itsself, like there’s reoccurring characters and plot twists and betrayals and drama

And I made the main character of this game (who doesn’t really have any lines or personality cause it’s a stand in for everyone) into my character Blondie Missterrie [Blondie is a play on the idea of a noir detective, cause she’s the opposite while still being superb at her job]

She’s very eccentric, known for having a stomach of steel and going about cases with a perky manner and bedroom decorum.

Known for being relaxed, playful, and even occasionally flirty with the witnesses

But the thing is she always still get a the job done and she’s very intelligent

She’s solved conspiracies, taken down serial killers and so much more

She loves her peers, especially her partners to death, and the few times she’ll get genuinely upset is if something happens to them

Throughout the series, usually around the end of each season, somethings will happen that do shake her, and by the end of game one(spoiler warning) where someone is targeting her life, she admits to her detective partner and best friend David Jones, that she’s genuinely afraid (something she almost never is)

Underneath her perky personality, she does have some trauma relating to certain events

See, several times in The games, you and your partner will be doing some fun stuff after hours and all of a sudden a murder will happen

This was especially prevalent in the second game where (spoiler alert) Your partner Amy takes Blondie to her home town but murders keep happening, even to some people Amy knew.

Over the years Blondie starts to lo key think she’s cursed and that somehow by some crazy magic it’s her fault (it’s not and characters try to tell her that if anything the universe sends her here when they know a random person if gonna commit a crime)

Another traumatic thing is in one district in the first game, a serial killer hypnotizes David Jones and starts feeding into his insecurities about how he feels inferior to Blondie despite being the more senior detective and how she gets the credit most of the time and he’s seen as a joke for his love of food (especially sweets [which Blondie finds endearing]) and his goofy clothes

(despite the fact that Blondie thinks very highly of him and despite playfully teasing him, adores him)

Under the effects of hypnosis, he attempts to murder Blondie before another officer knocks him out

She ends up feeling really bad that her friend though so badly around her, not to mention hurt that they would be capable of such acts (the serial killer later comments in court that she should be “careful” around Jones)

He says he’s sorry and she forgives him… but… I mean how do you just easily get over that

Not to mention rare times where colleges turned out to be killers and times they ended up being murdered

And one time where basically, in game 5

David Jones has returned and in one season, he has a new girlfriend, except that girlfriend commits murder for sadly understandably reason involving past abuse and mental illness. So she gets put in a psych facility, but not before Jones briefly attempts to obstruct justice (he stops pretty quickly)

But later on in said psych facility, she gets murdered and Jones literally attempted to end his own life

Which of course causes Blondie to crumble into pieces (like this is one of the the most broken up times she’s ever been)

Cause again she feels like it’s her fault somehow

It’s not until he gets better and is able to cope with what happened that she also starts to feel better. (What talking to him at the hospital, she admits that if he didn’t wake up she’d kill herself as well in “retribution”)

So yeah, homegirl goes through ALOT and yet still manages to be very upbeat and have her sweetheart personality (it’s just that sometimes that trauma shines through)

It’s not that it’s a facade, she really is very cheerful despite everything, she just has her big sad moments every now and again

But now to Ace Attorney, this takes place after the first 5 games, she’s like, in her mid 30s now (she started the games in her early 20s)

And she decides to work as a detective for the place Gumshoe works at. She still mostly the same girl, her main function in the game would be basically as a hint button, where if Nick talked to her, he’d mostly just find her seeming daydreaming, but mumbling to herself hints of where he should go next or what he should do, like

“Hm… a weapon… probably a knife… back at the hotel… we should go there later…”

But yeah, Being that she’s at this point a famous detective, unlike Gumshoe, she gets paid A Lot of money for her time

Though since Dick is her new buddy, she shares a lot of her money with him and treats him to nice things

She adores her new partner but is lo key scared to too get close to him because u know… trauma and stuff

(she’s still friends with all over her old detective partners [that are alive] and they love her, but she still thinks she’s cursed)

And so yeah, I think she makes for an interesting addition to the cast

With how much Blondie has suffered, and yet she still manages to be a sweetheart and not a supervillain, I ship her with everyone. She deserves her own harem of Waifus and Husbands😤

(You haven’t played all the games so you don’t know the full tragedies* yet but trust me, every character in Ace attorney has their own tragedy to tell)

*just wait till you see what happens to Phoenix Game 4

I like her! She sounds like a very tough cookie, but she also sounds like she's moving towards a precipice. It's my opinion that one individual can handle only so much trauma before they break down if they don't have a release valve. Does she have anything to help her through that trauma? I imagine that her friendships with her coworkers could help, but does she have any hobbies? Maybe cooking or cleaning or making art could be therapy for her--something calming that she can do at home to help her through everything. She just seems like the type to bake cookies, to be honest, and share them with her friends and bring them into work. Like, during one Ace Attorney case, she bakes some cookies and shares them with Gumshoe, and he's just so taken by them that he actually gets distracted from doing his investigation lol

You could also use her as an OC for....Danganronpa. In those games, you get attached to the characters, only to have them either be murdered or violently executed by a mechanical bear, puhuhuhu!! (that's the bear's laugh, btw) I don't think Blondie would be a murder victim or a murdered--she may be one of the lucky few that survives to the very end and lives with all the trauma of violently losing her friends.

Inevitably, I heard of what happens to ol' Feenie after the trilogy. Something something something..,.he gets disbarred for a period of time and can't practice law. And from there he kinda spirals downwards. Oh how the mighty have fallen.....The world lost a great defense lawyer.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language, implied cannibalism (because Vampires)

Warnings: Aforementioned implied cannibalism

Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering… could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique “soul mark”, which they share with their soulmate.

Notes: Features a cameo of sorts for my OC, Avaskian Caldwell. Not beta read.

Previous Chapters: 1: In The Shadow Of Giants, 2: Uncertain Destinations

3: Eat Your Heart

“Well,” Bela says, only moderately sounding hostile, “I do believe that marks the end of our tour. Unless you would like to see the dungeons? Perhaps get a proper look at where you might end up, hmm?” Resisting the urge to roll your eyes is more difficult than you would have preferred. Somehow you manage, though, and reply in a relatively relaxed tone.

“I think I’ll have to pass. After all, I wouldn’t want to be late for dinner, now would I?” You incline your head towards a nearby clock to emphasize your point. For a split second Bela seems surprised, as if she hadn’t been keeping track of time at all. But the look vanishes as quickly as it came about, soon replaced with a calculating gaze, and she gives a short nod. “Is it safe to assume that you eat together, as a family?” Another nod, this time accompanied by a small look of confusion. “Mmm, sounds wonderful. It’s been far too long since I’ve shared a nice family meal.”

That certainly wasn’t what Bela had expected you to say.

“Oh? I do hope that you can stomach the sight of blood, then. Otherwise it might not feel so nice,” she replies, after a slight pause. Her earlier confidence had returned, further bolstered by the resulting giggles from her sisters. They were a chaotic bunch. Regardless, Bela soon takes your wrist in her hand, pulling you towards the dining room, grip only tight enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Both of her siblings followed closely behind, occasionally whispering unintelligible jokes to one another. One in particular leaves Daniela pausing in the hallway, hunched over laughing, with an unnerving edge of something else you couldn’t quite place. A backwards glance in her direction leads you to make eye contact with Cassandra, who gives you a knowing smirk. Deciding that you didn’t want to know what she had said, you turned back towards Bela, and stayed facing that way until you reached the dining hall.

Inside, Alcina was already sitting at the head of the table, in a chair that would have seemed a throne to anyone else. On either side of her are two more seats, far less ornate than her own. For a moment the sisters and you hesitate in the entranceway. Evidently they weren’t accustomed to this particular arrangement, unsure where to sit. It’s not until Bela clears her throat that Alcina speaks up.

“On my left, dear,” she says, eying her eldest daughter, before turning to you. “You may sit to my right. I trust that you’ll find this agreeable?” Well, you weren’t exactly about to argue with her, so yes, you found it agreeable. Even if it meant sitting across from the more ‘direct’ member of your opposition. Though perhaps ‘judge’ and/or ‘jury’ was a better word for the Dimitrescu daughters. Regardless, you were going to have to sit with them, and in the end it hardly mattered who was where. As such, you semi-awkwardly made your way to your seat, hoping that you’d eventually feel less out of place. Soon enough Cassandra takes the spot next to you, giving you a concerning smirk as she does. What did she have planned? Before you can even contemplate her intentions, her mother is talking again, drawing both of your attention towards herself. “Splendid. I’m glad to see that you’re already finding your place here.”

It’s not hard, you think, when you’re directing my every step. Despite your biting internal commentary, you do not speak out loud, merely giving a polite smile and nod. Across from you, Bela gives her mother an affectionate expression before fixing you with a subtle disapproving look. Taking some small comfort in the fact that she wasn’t being openly hostile, you forced yourself to keep smiling, meeting her gaze with as much confidence as you can muster. Within moments both of you have your attention drawn elsewhere, thankfully, as servants begin carrying in various food platters. Most of the dishes appeared to be perfectly normal. But looks could be deceiving, and you knew that at least a handful had to contain less “traditional” ingredients. They remembered to cook something normal for me, right?

Soon enough your fears are somewhat alleviated, as one of the servants places an already filled plate in front of you. Admittedly you don’t recognize xer, despite xer oddly silver hair, or the red bandana xe wore. Something told you that xe wasn’t just another maiden, however, especially with the way xe brazenly made eye contact with each of the Dimitrescus. Before you could inquire about xer, you’re distracted by the arrival of Juniper, who instantly smiles when she sees you. In her arms she carries the last two side dishes and several empty plates, which the unknown servant gently takes from her. Together the two of them set the final items into place. Wordlessly, the grey-haired person removes a notebook from xer back pocket, handing it to Juniper with the barest sliver of a smile. Clearly having done this more than once, she accepts it readily, opening it to a bookmarked page.

“My Ladies, and our dearest, most esteemed guest, I present to you another fine selection of traditional Romanian dishes, for your sincere enjoyment. Today we will be drinking one of our more popular styles of wine, known as Febris Amatoria, meaning ‘fever of love’ in Latin,” she reads, only somewhat shakily. Next to her, the stranger inclines xer head to your employers, then does the same to you. At this point you have to assume that xe doesn’t speak, and that Juniper was serving as a translator of sorts. “Due to the unexpected nature of our guest, the dishes are not clearly marked in regards to their ingredients. You have my- as in Mx Caldwell- assurance that this will be handled by the next standard mealtime, where the shared dishes will be color coded. In the meantime, I- again, Mx Caldwell- will remain here, in order to prevent any… unintentional ingestion of human remains.” Gulping, Juniper returns the notebook to the stranger (Caldwell, apparently), then exits the room alongside the other servants.

“Isn’t Febris Amatoria also another name for a type of anemia?” Bela asks, slowly swirling the contents of her glass as she does. Caldwell, who had moved to stand several feet behind Alcina, gives a nod in response, and appears mildly amused.

“A clever allusion to our family’s nature, isn’t it? I know Daniela has certainly drained a number of ‘lovers’ over the years, perhaps causing a case or two,” Cassandra teases, much to her younger sister’s irritation. Personally you were surprised that she was willing to admit such a thing in front of her mother. Unless you were reading too much into the word ‘lovers’, due to the rumors you had heard regarding Lady Daniela. Nonetheless, the Lady in question is aggravated enough to sit up, looking ready to lunge across the table at Cassandra. As soon as Daniela moves (with frightening speed), her sister easily catches her wrist, using her other hand to wave a finger back and forth. “Ah, ah, ah, Dani, we have a guest. Do try to behave yourself.”

“Oh, because you’re the epitome of table manners? I’m amazed you haven’t already managed to spill wine all over your dress,” Daniela counters, before ripping her arm away from Cassandra. They both huff, but are quick to quiet down when their mother sends them a look. “Dinner looks delectable, as usual, Ava,” Daniela continues, after clearing her throat, accentuating the end of her sentence with a gesture of her wine glass. Then she takes a long drink from it, perhaps thinking that a little intoxication might make the evening easier to get through. Deciding that maybe she had the right idea, you take a sip from your own glass, relishing the subtle hint of lavender.

In the minutes that follow, things slide into easy comfort. Caldwell once more moves closer to the table, helping pass along side-dishes from person to person, quietly pointing out which ones you could safely consume, occasionally chuckling in response to the jokes that the daughters shared. A strange warmth built itself up within the center of your chest, heart yearning for age-old memories of your own family. Three months had passed since the last time you felt this way. Really, it felt so much like family that you didn’t catch the way Cassandra’s lips twitched into a smirk, or the way she met Bela’s gaze, or the way she pushed a dish just a tad further towards you than necessary. All it had taken was a single second of your gaze turned elsewhere… then you were reaching for the castle’s special variety of forbidden fruit.

“Ayye, nyet, nyet!” Caldwell snaps, voice oddly strained, hand wrapping around your wrist in an instant. All eyes are on you now, though Alcina’s soon flicker over to the servant. “Cass. Bad girl,” xe continues, going so far as to shake xer finger disapprovingly. Understandably, you’re rather shocked to see a butler be so bold with someone so dangerous. Even more shocking is the way that Cassandra backs down without a hint of a fight, refusing to meet her mother’s steely gaze, not even pretending that she hadn’t attempted to trick you. Satisfied with this outcome, Caldwell wordlessly fades back into the background.

Although you had almost committed an unwilling act of cannibalism, you managed to slowly relax again, content to listen in on (but not participate in) the conversations around you. ‘Twas somewhat awkward, admittedly, to be the odd one out in a family so close. Yet a part of you had gained a new sense of hope by meeting Caldwell. After all, if a human such as xerself could become so close as to chastise Cassandra of all people, why couldn’t you?

---------------------------

“Once again, I would like to… apologize, on behalf of my daughters,” Alcina says, rather softly, still keeping a gentle hand on your back to guide you along. “I must admit, I do not wish to dwell on what might have happened if not for Avaskian.”

“Believe it or not, I think I actually understand where they’re coming from. Though, of course, I am also grateful for Caldwell’s intervention. But really… your family has been together for several decades now, right? Any addition is guaranteed to stir things up,” you respond with a shrug. “Besides, I’m more than aware that I don’t exactly stand at the same level as your other romantic interest.” Suddenly both of you are halting in the middle of the hallway, unable to meet each other’s gaze, regret rumbling like butterflies in your stomach. You hadn’t intended to bring up your soulmate’s somewhat obvious affections for Mother Miranda.

“Hmm. So you are… aware of that,” Alcina murmurs, finally turning her head to look down at you. There’s no small amount of pain in her eyes, though you can tell she’s holding as much of it in as possible. “I would prefer it if we did not speak of this. I do hope you have no qualms with that.” For once, there is no hint of force or commanding edge to her tone. For once, she is letting you act as an equal, the first step towards actually accepting your role as her soulmate. It’s enough to make the corners of your lips turn up, if only for a moment.

“Alcina… I understand. I merely want to say that it won’t affect how I feel, or how I act. Love is a blessing, even when it ends in pain. I… have loved before. People whom I will never see again, people who never felt the same way, and maybe people who I really only thought that I loved. I’m trying to think of those experiences as lessons. Situations that taught me something about myself, or about what love is, that I can keep in mind and use going forward. Just as I promised to your daughters, I will try to love you. I will give you an honest chance, regardless of our past circumstances. Because we’re soulmates. Because this is the world offering us a shot at something amazing, and I’m not about to give that up,” you explain, placing one of your hands in Alcina’s. For a moment there’s silence, but you see both surprise and happiness in her expression. Still, there’s a hint of tension remaining in the air, so you do your best to dispel it. “Also your daughters threatened to kill me if I didn’t, and I’d hate to perish before lasting a full year here. I heard a rumor that one of the senior staff members makes cards to celebrate.”

Next thing you know, you’re hearing a beautiful sound, a light, genuine laugh from Alcina, who all at once releases the tension in her shoulders.

“Yes, I do believe Ava, or Caldwell as you said, still makes those. Always with strange little drawings of felines…” She trails off, voice fading into another chuckle, before at last resuming her walk, never letting go of your hand. “As much as I have enjoyed our chat, I do believe it is about time that I retire for the night. We will see each other once more in the morning. For now, I bid you goodnight. Sleep well, my dear.” With that, the two of you arrive at the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you find just enough courage to bring her hand to your lips, for a brief kiss.

“Goodnight, Lady Alcina. May your dreams be as sweet as your company.”

[moonlit-reveriee]

Hey there Moon, if your requests are still open, could you do a C!Techno x Female! Reader who’s a total badass with weapons? Like she’s quick and agile with a bow and sword?

Hope you have a wonderful day/night! ^^

A Lover, and a Fighter

technoblade x fem!reader

this story was really fun to write, and i think it came out pretty cute. thank you for your request, and your patience. i hope you enjoy!

content warning // SFW, mention of drinking alcohol, description of fighting (no mention of blood or injury)

listen to this while you read: Notos by The Oh Hellos

───※ ·❆· ※───

***this story takes place during & after the revolution against Dante, with the headcanon that Hypixel takes the form of a medieval kingdom within the same universe as the dsmp***

It had been a long time since Techno had visited Hypixel, and even longer since he had taken the time to observe any of the fighters being trained there. He wasn’t surprised to see many unfamiliar faces amongst the crowds battling against Dante. But one figure in particular grabbed his attention.

As he soared through the air, launched upwards by the shockwaves of Dante’s movements, he noticed someone standing on top of a nearby building. A warrior with bow and arrow held upwards to the sky, their aim remaining steady despite the tremors that shook the earth. They leapt to the ground, swiftly pulling out a sword and began chopping down several of Dante’s goons with a single swipe.

Even in the heat of battle, he couldn’t help but be impressed. There was a deadly accuracy to all of their movements. It showed tremendous skill, and dedication to honing their abilities.

Once Dante had been defeated, Techno stayed behind to aid in Hypixel’s recovery. He walked around the battlefield strewn with debris. He shook the hand of every revolutionary he could find, secretly searching for the warrior he had seen upon the rooftops.

After a while, he was able to spot them in the crowds. A woman helping clear rubble from the destroyed community center, familiar bow and sword strapped across her back.

“Thank you for your aid in the revolution”, he said as he approached, offering a hand for her to take. She accepted it with a grip strong enough to rival his own.

“I would do anything to rid Hypixel of Dante’s corruption”, she spoke with confidence. She released his hand and turned her attention back to the rubble, lifting a wooden beam over her shoulder with ease.

“I noticed the way you fought”, he continued, bending over to pick up a piece of broken cobblestone, “you seem very skilled.”

She glanced at him from the side, mouth curving upwards into a very slight smirk.

“That’s quite the compliment coming from the blood god himself.”

“I understand good fighting when I see it”, he said with a shrug. She squinted her eyes at him, almost suspicious.

“It would be foolish of me to turn down such a compliment”, she said as she walked off towards the pile of discarded wood. He chased after her, watching her drop the beam off her shoulders with a heavy thud.

“What is your name?”, he asked when she turned to face him. She paused, quickly looking I’m up and down. She seemed skeptical of his interest in her, and maybe that was fair.

“y/n”, she said, crossing her arms.

“Would you like to duel, y/n?”, he blurted out impulsively. Her eyes widened, noticing the way he was blushing out of embarrassment.

“Are you flirting with me, Sir Blade?”, mischievous grin spreading across her face.

He sputtered, blush deepening on his cheeks while she laughed boisterously.

“Let’s clean up first”, she clapped an armored hand over his shoulder with a loud metal clank, “meet me at the duels arena in a few days.” She walked past him, leaving him to twist around and watch her back as she left.

Techno ended up seeing her again before their duel. Members of the revolution were meeting in a local tavern to celebrate, and he found her lounging in a quiet corner of the bar. Tankard in her hand, she happily watched the other members of the guild drunkenly trip over themselves. He didn’t approach her, at least not at first.

Later in the evening, a man sidled up to her table. Techno couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed like she was trying to politely shoo him away. Clearly drunk out of his mind, he reached out a hand and forcibly cupped her cheek. Techno stood up from his seat, ready to yank the man back by his collar. Before he could, she grabbed his hand and bent his arm backwards behind his head. The man was sent to his knees, wincing in pain.

“I said don’t touch me”, she sneered, “learn to follow my words when I say them nicely.”

She released the man’s hand, allowing him to stumble away with a steely glare. Once he was throughly out of her sight, she turned her attention to where Techno had begun to approach her.

“I appreciate your help, even though it was unneeded”, she sighed heavily.

“Does this happen often?”, he asked.

“Not really”, she said, “I guess the guys here think plate armor is attractive.”

“It’s probably the only clothes they’ve seen a woman in”, he joked. She chuckled lightly, the sound surprisingly sweet compared to her demeanor.

“Would you like a drink?”, she offered once her laughter had subsided.

“Ah, I would”, he sighed, “but let me cover it, I insist.”

“No”, she said firmly, “I’m sure everyone here wants to buy you a drink. Allow it to be me for tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the flash of determination in her eye. He gave her a nod, surrendering to her wishes. She bought two pints of honeyed ale, sweet and subtly floral. They drank in comfortable silence, watching the absolutely wasted tavern goers make fools of themselves.

Time passed, and day of their duel arrived. The damage from Dante’s attack had finally been cleared and construction of the destroyed buildings began. Techno felt calm as he strode through the familiar courtyards of Hypixel’s training grounds, which surprised him. For some reason, he expected to be nervous. But at the same time, there was nothing to be nervous about, right? This was just a friendly duel between friends. Just friends who have only known each other for a few days.

His felt his stomach twist. Maybe he was nervous.

When he entering the arena, he found her already waiting for him, clad in a simpler set of armor than the one she wore to fight Dante. She waved her arm upon noticing his entrance, bright and crooked smile on her face.

“Are you ready to duel, Sir Blade?”, she called across the field. Something about that nickname made his heart glow.

“Only if you are, y/n.”

“Oh, I’m ready to get my ass kicked.”

“Hey now”, he retorted playfully, “I think you will put up a good fight.”

“We’ll see”, she shrugged, stretching her arms to warm up the muscles.

“Standard kit?”, he questioned, “diamond armor, sword and bow?”

“As long as it’s not a crossbow. I haven’t figured those fuckers out yet”, she muttered.

He nodded, donning a set of armor to match hers. They took stances at opposite sides of the arena. She already had a bow in hand, arrow cocked and ready. Techno had dueled one on one many times. Some more stress-inducing than other. The anticipation of this fight made his fingers tingle with excitement. A bell began to toll. Standard practice for training duels: on the fourth chime, the fight began.

An arrow whizzed from its string, narrowly missing him as he strafed right and began moving in a wide curve towards her. She switched to her sword, ready to meet his in a clang of metal against metal.

They traded blows almost evenly. While Techno’s sword swung with immense strength behind it, hers was agile and precise. When she landed a hit, it was because she could aim her sword exactly where the armor was weakest. When their swords became interlocked, she made eye contact and grinned wildly. His concentration fell, and she seized the opportunity to disengage and put some distance between them.

From her newfound position, she returned to her bow and began firing shots with a deadly accuracy. When fighting with others around his skill level, Techno liked to wear them down. Hiding and running away, giving him a chance to recover while they chased. Now, however, his strategy was being challenged. Her skill with a bow was outstanding, even at very long distances. There were very few places he could hide that she couldn’t hit.

Their reached a point where the battle was at a stalemate. They had returned to sword combat, a heavy sheen on sweat on their brows. She parried a blow from him, but he pushed back with any remaining strength he had left, sending her staggering back wards. She gritted her teeth, running forwards suddenly with a ferocious scream. It surprised him so much he barely reacted as she slammed into him right at the waist and tackled him to the ground.

He twisted to land on his side, causing her to fall on the ground next to him. They both panted, making no move to stand up.

“I-“, she gasped, “I’ve never done that before.” He huffed out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows and offering a hand to help her sit up as well.

“That was a good fight”, he said after they’d both caught their breath.

“Thank you”, she said, removing her helmet and wiping away the strands of hair that stuck to her face, “I didn’t expect to win, but a draw is good enough for me… Thank you for giving me the chance.”

“You fight very different from me”, he said while shaking the hair out of his face, “I was curious to see how it would go. You’ll have to show me some of those sword techniques, they’re great.”

She smiled, puffing up a little bit at the praise. Her hand came up to brush away some of the dust that stuck to the side of his face. She seemed to do it subconsciously, because her eyes widened at the realization and she moved her hand away quickly. In a heat of the moment decision he grabbed her hand in midair, holding it in his own. Her eyes met his and the seconds seemed to stretch.

Something drew him, like a magnetic force, to lean in and press a kiss to her lips. It was relatively quick, but it felt so much longer to him. When he pulled away, she blinked at him. Her cheeks were pink, but he was unsure whether it was from the kiss or the fighting.

“I should have asked first, shouldn’t I?”, he said after clearing his throat.

“No, no”, she replied, still slightly dazed, “you’re fine.”

“I don’t know why-“, he stuttered, “I doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, we can just forget it happened.”

“I-“, she paused, “… I think I’d like to remember it actually.”

The grip on his hand tightened, and Techno felt butterflies in his chest.

“I think my mind’s going a little foggy”, she continued, “could you remind me?”

It took far longer than it should have for his brain to process her words. When the gears finally clicked, a dry laugh escaped his lips.

“Are you flirting with me, dear?”, he retorted.

She laughed, a joyous and melodic sound. He cut her off before she could finish, causing her to giggle against his lips. Sitting in the middle of an empty battle arena, various weapons strewn around them, they allowed themselves to share in each other’s presence and be happy.

───※ ·❆· ※───

AHAHHAHAHA i just wanna say thank you again for this request because it ended up being such a joy to write. it was so fun to write the reader with this kind of personality

plus, it gave me an excuse to give this story a medieval fantasy aesthetic, which, in my humble opinion, is the superior aesthetic for techno

i can’t stress this enough, thank you to every anon who’s submitted a request for being patient with me! i’m trying to get through them chronologically while still giving myself enough of a break that i won’t get overwhelmed or burnt out. regardless of any wait, i hope you enjoyed!

thank you for reading <3

-moonlight

[ipuckwithhockey]

History Repeats Itself- B. Boeser

a/n: This somehow ended up being around 11k words, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Also, I only did a quick scan for grammar and spelling so sorry if there are errors!

summary: You and Brock met once back in college when you were still committed to your high school boyfriend. Years later you’re single and older and just starting a new job in Vancouver. The only question now is whether or not you will take the opportunity to rewrite your own history.

warnings: None that I can think of

“So, are you in or no?” Y/N’s roommate asks her as they walk out of the library and toward their dorm. 

“I don’t think so Mags, I actually have some studying to catch up on.” You reply unconvincingly. Midterms of your first semester at the University of North Dakota just came to a close, and your excuse of having homework on a Friday night wasn’t convincing anyone. 

“Y/N, seriously? You aced all of your midterms and we just spent three hours in the fucking library! Live a little! The hockey team is having a huge party, and the guys are really fun AND super hot! You deserve this!” Maggie tries to convince you to come out to a party that the UND Hockey team is having tonight, and you tell yourself not to give in. 

“Maggie, I have a boyfriend. And you know they don’t let guys who aren’t on the team into their parties. God, it’s basically a frat.” You scoff at the idea of a frat party, but there’s still a small part of you that wants to experience the chaos of a real college party. That’s probably why it ends up being so easy for Maggie to convince you to slip into a pair of skinny jeans and a cute top before embarking on a night out.  

“Y/N, this is Nick and Brock. They’re both in my econ class. Nick is a sophomore, but Brock here is a freshman like us!” Maggie happily introduces you to the two tall boys as you enter an old musty house, full to the brim with college kids. The air smells like stale alcohol and you take note that your shoes are somehow already sticky. You’re not sure if it’s from something you stepped in or if it’s just the floor in general. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” You shake Brock’s hand that he’s extended for you and you can’t help but stare a little too long, taking in his blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. 

You had to admit though, Katie was right, these guys are super hot. You can already tell your roommate has her eye on this Nick guy, and it actually looks like he might be interested in her too. He’s just her type— He’s hot and he knows it, and his dark hair and striking features draw the eyes of nearly every girl in the room. The blonde boy who stands across from you is quite honestly the opposite of Nick. Brock is also undeniably good-looking, but he’s shy and his light hair and soft smile make him seem less intimidating than his friend. 

Nick finds you and Katie some drinks and some other girls you’ve become friends with show up to the party a little later. The boys come and go as they mingle with other people and their teammates, but Nick tends to stay close by to Maggie and you catch glimpses of Brock occasionally. Apparently his shyness doesn’t apply to his teammates. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him and his friends dance together to some shitty remix of a song you used to blast on your way to school. You’re actually having a great time, but you can’t hear your phone ringing over the music that’s blaring through the house you’re in. Later, Nick offers to walk you and Maggie home after a few hours of living like a real college kid, and Brock ends up tagging along since he apparently lives in the same building. 

“So, how come we haven’t met you before tonight? This one talks about you all the time.” The four of you are walking across campus and Nick has Maggie under his arm as he asks why you never seem to be with your roommate. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.” Maggie quips as some of the alcohol she’s consumed tonight gives her the courage to openly criticize your relationship. 

“Maggie.” You say in a warning tone. “He’s just not a big partier, and usually I’m not either.” You shove at her shoulder lightly. Maggie was nice and you liked being her roommate, but when you first met and told her you had followed your high school boyfriend across the country to attend a university in “North fucking Dakota” she immediately expressed how crazy she thought you were. In her eyes there was no way that a couple who started dating when they were fifteen would last forever. You disagreed, which is why you turned down your scholarship to an ivy league and followed your boyfriend to North Fucking Dakota. His family was from North Dakota, and for some reason everyone in their family had to go to school there too. At the time, you didn’t see it as giving something up, you saw it as you and your boyfriend starting a life together outside the confines of your hometown. 

“So, what floor do you live on, Brock?” Maggie asks as the four of you make your way up to your building. 

“I’m on 4— Room 405. What about you guys?” Brock asks back. 

“We’re 219.” You say back before you’re startled as you hear another voice you’re not exactly expecting.  

“Y/N! Where the hell have you been?” The group you’re with is almost to the doors of your dorm building when a perturbed voice yells for you.  

“Uh- Owen. What are you doing here?” You’re surprised to see your boyfriend standing in front of you, looking like he’s seeing red. You weren’t even supposed to be seeing him at all tonight. He had told you he was going to be occupied for the evening while he was studying for his physics exam. You hadn’t told him you were going to the party, but at the time you didn’t think it was important. Owen preferred that you didn’t bother him while he was studying, so you decided against calling him before your night out. 

“I’ve been calling you for like two hours— God have you been drinking?” The rest of the group you were with tonight looks uncomfortable to say the least, and you can’t blame them. Owen wasn’t the best at saving face, especially when he felt like someone hadn’t upheld the standards that he had set out for them. Now he just looked like a dad reprimanding their child, and a wave of embarrassment quickly washed over you.

“I just- We went to a party. I didn’t think you’d mind. You were supposed to be studying all night,” You say sheepishly, as you begin to regret letting Maggie convince you to go out. Before Owen can clap back again, Maggie nudges you and tells you that the three of them are going to go, not wanting to invade on your private life any longer. 

When they’re gone, Owen starts again, “This just isn’t like you. I’m so disappointed.” You feel bad now, you know you haven’t done anything wrong, but Owen’s words make you feel like you have, so you tuck your tail between your legs as follow him back to his dorm and apologize for what you did. 

That was almost five years ago. You dated Owen for longer than you’d like to admit but eventually you removed your rose-colored glasses and broke up with him. You graduated from UND and got a second chance at your Ivy League dreams when went to graduate school. Now, you’ve completed your masters and have been offered a promotion at you job. The only catch was that the new position required you to move to the west coast… of Canada. 

You moved almost two months ago, and your raise was enough to allow you to move into a nice building downtown. Work takes up most of your time now, so you haven’t been able to explore the city as much as you would like, but you can already tell your decision to make Vancouver your new home was a good one. The laid back and easy feeling you get from this city is completely different from the big east coast metropolis you had been living in before, and even though you’re working more than ever, you feel like you can actually breathe here. 

Since your breakup with Owen your senior year at UND, you’ve taken time to take back your life. You try your best not to ponder on the past anymore, and you focus on your own future. It can’t be denied that at first it was hard not to remain bitter at the idea that you had so willingly given up many things in your life, for a boy who took them too eagerly. You worked through it though and took back your life by focusing on your own goals and working on furthering your own career. The past is the past now, and you were ready to start this new life in Vancouver. 

*

“I actually can’t believe you’re wearing that.” Elias mocks at Brock as they step out of the elevator and into the lobby of Brock’s apartment building. Brock is sporting a bucket hat, and even though he knows Elias is joking, he wonders if he shouldn’t have just left the hat sitting on his kitchen counter. The two of them are bickering back and forth about their fashion choices, and Brock almost misses you as you walk past him. Almost. He recognizes you immediately even though your hair is longer, and your face doesn’t look so much like a kid’s anymore. 

“Hey, nice to meet you.” Brock extends his hand, hoping he doesn’t seem too nervous to the pretty girl he has just been introduced to. He’s a freshman, and a star on the UND hockey team, which kind of makes him North Dakotan royalty. Since starting college, he’s learned what to say and how to say it, to get a girl’s attention, but he’s not the overly confident guy that his friend, Nick is. Nick lays it on thick and loves the attention he gets. Brock likes it, it’s fun, but he’s more laid back, and not as worried about getting the girl. He just likes to have a good time with his friends and doesn’t really need all of the extra attention. 

He would however like to have your attention. He makes some friendly conversation with you over the course of the night, but you stick close to your girlfriends, and he can’t tell if you’re not interested or if you just aren’t catching what he’s putting down. 

Later that night, when Nick tells Brock that he is going to walk you and your roommate home, he’s quick to tag along. Even though he lives in the same building, he probably would have stayed at the party a little longer if you hadn’t been going with them. On the walk across campus, the four of you make some small talk, and Brock knows that Nick definitely thinks he’s getting laid tonight. 

Brock can’t help but hope that Nick getting laid will mean you will need a hideout for a couple hours while your roommate occupies your shared room. Even though he’d happily accept it, he doesn’t think he’ll be getting laid. Brock just hopes that he’ll have some time to get to know you a little bit better, maybe get your number, and then eventually ask you out. It’s right then that Nick asks why they’ve never met you. 

“She has a boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to having fun.”  Maggie replies, and Brock can’t help but be disappointed. You had a boyfriend. So it wasn’t that you weren’t interested, well it was, but it was only because you were already taken. Maybe you had even caught on to his light flirting, and he can’t help but think how embarrassing that is.  

This embarrassment honestly wasn’t as bad as what was to come next. Brock isn’t sure if his secondhand embarrassment is worse than the embarrassment that you’re probably feeling as the guy, who is presumably your boyfriend, yells at you for going to a party. He can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, you’re definitely uncomfortable with scene that is unfolding. Brock isn’t sure what to do, and him and Nick exchange a few quick glances as to say, “what the fuck?” And next, he’s incredibly thankful that Maggie steps in to tell you that they’re going to head into the building. 

“What the fuck was that?” Nick asks as the three of them get out of earshot from you and Owen.  

“Meet Owen, the illustrious high school boyfriend.” Maggie’s sarcasm is clear, and Brock is surprised that someone who seems so sweet could be dating a guy like that. 

That hockey party his first semester at UND was the last time Brock spoke to you. He left after his sophomore year when he signed with the Canucks and before he left, when he would see you on campus, you were usually with the jerk he only briefly encountered that first night. When you would pass him in the hallway of your dorm or even around campus you would usually avoid meeting his eye or offer one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles. Brock would always smile back, and he would wonder if you were actually happy with that guy, and occasionally he would tell himself that he could make you happier. 

You felt bad as you essentially avoided him for the first few weeks after that party, but it got easier as time went on. The two of you barely knew each other, but for some reason every time that you did pass him, you were still enamored by his kind eyes and generous smile that only made you feel worse for avoiding him. Over time your friends, like Maggie, would eventually fall to the waste side too as your boyfriend continued to control your life. Maggie stopped asking you to hang out and when you moved in with Owen after your freshman year, you basically lost all connection with her. Everyone probably thought that you were a massive bitch because they perceived your actions as you choosing your boyfriend over them. They weren’t wrong, but you didn’t know at the time, that your priorities were extremely misguided. 

Brock’s little crush was soon forgotten when he dove headfirst into the NHL. He was busy trying to establish himself in the league, and he found himself in a few lackluster relationships that usually ended in a mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working. He was a good guy, and even though he wasn’t a saint, he preferred to get to know a girl and take her to dinner before anything else. The girls he dated usually fell pretty hard for him. He’s unmistakably attractive and his endearing personality make him incredibly charming. They knew that they couldn’t hold on to him forever and that he didn’t want to hurt them, so they let him go and hoped that they would find another guy that was half as good.

Seeing you now is like a breath of fresh air for Brock; his little crush immediately rising to the surface after being buried away for so long. 

“Y/N?” Brock lightly touches you on your arm to get your attention. You’re lost in the email you’re replying to on your phone, and you’re more than surprised when you turn to see the same light blue eyes that you met your freshman year of college. 

“Brock?” It’s the only thing that your brain can formulate right now. Brock Boeser is probably the only person you know in Vancouver and yet he’s standing in front of you right now. You haven’t seen or spoken to him in years, and you can’t believe that he even remembers you. 

“Hey, I thought that was you.” Brock says, as Elias notices the big smile that’s plastered across his friend’s face. “What are you doing in Vancouver?” Brock asks, wondering how a girl from the east coast who went to school in North Dakota, somehow ended up in Vancouver. 

“I um- I live here. I just moved for my job a couple months ago,” You tell him.

“Oh, no way! Vancouver’s great, I’m sure you’ll love it here.” He replies, still taking in the fact that you’re standing in front of him. 

“Yeah, I like it so far,” you say. “Do you live here? – Or I guess, in the building?” You ask. You know that he lives in Vancouver, you’re aware of his hockey career, but you’ve lived here for a couple months and have never seen him around. 

“Yeah, I’ve been back in Minnesota for most of the summer, so I just got back a couple days ago.” He tells you. You never really put much thought into where athletes go after their season ends, but it makes sense that they would go back to wherever they call home. 

Elias nudges Brock to remind him that he’s still standing awkwardly beside him. “Oh, this is Petey,” Brock turns to introduce you to his friend that you already recognize, “It’s Elias, nice to meet you.” Elias says as he offers his hand to you. 

“Yeah, I know.” You let out a light laugh and think about all of the Vancouver Canucks posters you’ve seen him on throughout the city. You’ve seen posters of Brock too, but you barely even know the guy, so it’s never really struck you as anything out of the ordinary. 

“Are you a Canucks fan?” Elias asks.  

You laugh a little, “Oh, no. I don’t follow hockey or really any sports, but everyone at work does, so I’ve been trying to learn a bit about it to keep up with the water cooler conversations.” You laugh again because it’s true. You’ve never really been tuned into sports, but your new office is basically all men, and they’re all huge Canucks fans, so your google searches of the team’s stats and roster have helped you become familiar with the team before their season starts. 

“Well, you’ll have to come to a game some time.” Brock tells you. 

“Um yeah. Maybe.” You offer back, mentally debating on if that would ever actually happen, but knowing that he’s only being polite. “I um- I’ve actually got to go, but it was great running into you.” You smile, and say goodbye to the two blonde boys and make your way up to your apartment. 

Brock Boeser lives in your building. Again. You laugh, thinking about how funny it is that history is repeating itself. He’s just as cute as he was the first time you met, but the truth is you barely know each other, and you’re sure he remembers that you were probably a massive bitch in college who avoided him at all costs. You don’t let the thought of him linger too long and push it to the side to get on the realities of your life instead of continuing to mull over the past.  

*

Over the next month or so, you continue to run into Brock in the elevator or in the lobby of your building. He always says hi and greets you with the same sweet smile. You make polite conversation and he’s so charming sometimes that it makes you blush. It starts off with awkward hellos and goodbyes, then you start to make small talk, and soon enough conversation between the two of you becomes pretty effortless. His little jokes are usually so dumb, but they make you laugh and you truly appreciate that he’s always so nice. You start to open up a bit more and aren’t as hesitant when he asks you innocent questions about your life. 

You got to meet Coolie and Milo the other day, and Brock says that they are particularly fond of you. They both seem to be the sweetest dogs in the world, so you’re sure they’re just as good for everyone else. You see them ever so often when Brock takes them on walks around town, and he loves the way your eyes light up when you see his furry kids.

Brock usually asks you how work is going, even though your advanced corporate job goes way over his head, and you ask him about hockey, which you also have little to no knowledge of. You both usually give short and uninteresting answers like “great” or “it’s going.” Then, just as Brock is trying to find more ways to get to know you, you tell him that you’ve been trying to educate yourself more on hockey. You explain that you primarily work with men, and these men happen to be very keyed in on the sport and particularly on the Vancouver Canucks. Now, every time he sees you, he asks you what you’ve learned. 

Your conversations are still fairly short, but you tell him when you’ve finally learned all of the NHL team names, and understand each of the hockey positions. You explain some of the penalties and you’re pretty proud of yourself when your explanation of offsides gets an approval. When he asks you who you’ve decided your favorite player is, you tell him you like “that Boeser kid,” but not as much as you like Elias Pettersson. This gets a big laugh from him, and he tells you he doesn’t disagree with your analysis. This is a turning point for the two of you. Brock can tell that you’re becoming more comfortable with him, and he likes seeing this lighter side of you. 

One day when you pass him in the parking lot, he’s on his way to a game, dressed in suit, but with a beanie on his head. You’ve seen him like this a number of times before, and you really don’t understand why he insists on covering up his beautiful hair with various hats. You also don’t mind admiring how good he looks in his game day apparel. He’s good looking, and it’s not a crime to admire that. 

As you walk toward each other in the parking lot he calls out to you, “Hey, you learn anything new this week?” You laugh, because he usually starts the conversation like this, asking if you’ve studied up or done your homework. 

“Actually, I have a question for you.” You tell him as you come up, stopping before you would pass each other. 

“Okay, shoot.” He says. 

“Well, that’s actually your job, but my question has to do with goalie interference. I just don’t really understand it. I was trying to find videos of calls during games, but all of the calls seem kind of inconsistent.” You tell him, and he laughs at your shooting joke, leaving you feeling proud for a moment. He’s also laughing because you’re right. No one fucking knows what goalie interference is. 

“Yeah, I’m not even sure what goalie interference is half the time. But if you figure it out let me know!” He answers. You laugh, and the two of you begin to part ways. 

Before he makes it to his car you shout back, “Oh, Good luck tonight!” 

He smiles and thanks you before opening his car door and on his way to the rink he thinks about all of the little conversations the two of you have had over the course of last couple of months. His crush has only continued to grow, and Elias keeps nagging him to ask you out, but he’s not even sure if you’re single. With his luck, you’re probably married to that asshole from college, although he hasn’t noticed you with anyone and he hasn’t seen a ring on your finger. 

After that night Brock decided he needed to figure out if you were single or not, so that he could move on from his infatuation with you instead of wasting his time pining over a girl who was already taken. You’re always polite, and more recently you’ve become more and more comfortable joking and bantering with him, but sometimes you give him a look like you’re not sure what to say. 

That look is the look you get when you contemplate how you got here. Years ago, you couldn’t have fathomed having a simple conversation with Brock, but now you see him on a regular basis and make conversation like you’ve been friends for years. You appreciate his willingness to talk with you, and you enjoy your interactions more and more every day.

Brock knows that on Sunday morning you usually go for a walk down to the coffee shop on the corner, so today he grabs Coolie and Milo and heads for the door, hoping he’ll be lucky enough to run into you. He makes it all the way to the coffee shop without seeing you and he’s praying that when he opens the door to the store that you’ll be waiting inside. 

No such luck. 

When he doesn’t see you standing inside, he decides he should at least buy a coffee instead of awkwardly walking out. After he picks up his drink he walks across the street to the park so that Coolie and Milo can get some exercise. For some reason, the gods are on his side today, and a few minutes into his walk he sees you sitting on a bench under a tree, reading a book. 

He doesn’t get to secretly admire how pretty you look sitting there, with the sun streaming down through the limbs of the trees, because Milo and Coolie have spotted you and are actively dragging him in your direction. You’re stirred from your reading and when you look up you see two big fur balls running toward you, their owner not far behind them. 

“Hey! Sorry about them.” Brock apologizes as he tries to calm the dogs down. You’re laughing and smiling because Coolie has jumped up on the bench beside you. Brock tells them to get down as they continue to try and jump for your attention, and they eventually settle at his side. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I feel the same way when I see them,” you say, and it gets a light chuckle from Brock. He loves that you get so excited to see them and he cherishes the way your eyes light up when you reach down to pet them. He’s not sure what to say now, and before the silence gets too awkward you ask him if he wants to sit while motioning to the spot next to you. He gladly accepts your offer, and he sits down next to you.

“What are you reading?” He asks, attempting to facilitate some conversation. 

You turn over the book in your hand so that he can see the cover, “It’s called Normal People.” You say before giving him a brief description. You also tell him it’s a series on Hulu and he says he’ll opt to watch that instead of reading the book, earning another laugh from you. 

“So, did you leave the boyfriend behind or did you bring him with you?” He asks referring to some of the plot points of the book you had described to him. The question surprises you because one, there wasn’t a boyfriend, and two, why would Brock think there was a boyfriend? Your mind works fast enough to figure he might think that you’re still with Owen, but over the last couple months you don’t think you’ve given him any reason to think you would still be with him. 

“Neither I guess. I didn’t have a boyfriend to leave or bring.” You answer, looking over at Brock. You’re sure you almost hear what sounds like a sigh of relief from him, but it happened too quickly to tell. 

“I guess you and that guy from college didn’t work out?” Brock asks cautiously. He’s trying not to seem too eager, but he’s dying to know what ever happened between you and that jerk. 

You let out a light laugh as you think back to your previous relationship, “No, it definitely didn’t work out.” You say back. “We were obviously super young; we started dating when we were fifteen,” you sigh. “Anyway, I think it just took some time to realize I wasn’t going to marry a guy I thought was cute in my 9th grade biology class. We just didn’t have anything in common anymore. And he turned out to be a total jerk.” It feels surprisingly easy talking to Brock about this. You’ve felt so much shame and embarrassment for staying with this guy from high school for so long, but Brock’s eyes don’t convey any judgement or reason to feel ashamed. 

After that you gracefully shift the conversation to Brock’s love life. It was only fair, and when you asked him if he had a special lady- or man in his life, his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. It isn’t because you asked him if he was perhaps seeing a man, but because he was just so flustered by you and your questioning of his love life at all. 

“Nope. No ladies... Or men for that matter.” He says with a little laugh. 

“Really? A star hockey player like you doesn’t have girls lined up waiting for their chance to be with you?” You tease, as you can see, he’s still blushing a bit. You don’t think much of it, other than that he’s probably just shy about those things, but you don’t really feel too bad about teasing him.  He continues to convince you that there aren’t any other ladies in his life, and eventually the topic of conversation is forgotten. 

Brock walks back to the apartment building with you, and when you get in the elevator you remember that you’re going to be attending a Canucks game next week, “I almost forgot! I’m going to the Preds game next week!” You tell him, and his expression lights up hearing you say that you’ll be attending one of his games. “Some of the guys from work invited me to go with them. I think I’ve really won them over with my new hockey knowledge,” You tell him proudly. 

Some of the guys from work who are particularly invested in the hockey team invited you to come with them to a game, and you happily accepted the invitation. You had proven yourself to them as a colleague and now as a hockey fan too. 

“I guess we’ll have to get a win for you guys.” Brock replies confidently. The Canucks have had a great record lately and it looks like their winning streak is just getting started. “You better!” You say before the elevator stops on your floor and you tell him you’ll see him later, leaving Brock to think about everything he’s learned about you that morning. 

*

It’s Thursday, and this week has been hell. 

Sadly, you’re used to dedicating most of your time to work, but this week has been a total shit show, for lack of better words. A big account you’ve been working on decided at the last minute that they wanted something completely different, causing you and your team to have to work some crazy hours this week. By Thursday you’re practically a zombie due to your lack of sleep. The hours you have spent at home have been minimal, as you’ve gotten home past ten almost every night this week, and you leave in the morning again before 7. 

The guys on your team have all been working crazy hours too, but you’ve been taking the lead on this campaign, so you’ve made sure to be there early and late every single day. They can tell you’re just about out of gas, and they send you home early, telling you to rest up for the big presentation tomorrow. You try to argue, but they’re right, you need a break. You surrender and head home after stopping to get some takeout, knowing that your fridge at home is starkly empty. 

“Ms.Y/L/N, I’ve got a package for you.” Paul, the concierge of your building tells you as you pass him on your way to the elevators. You haven’t made any online purchases as of late, and you don’t remember anyone telling you they were sending you anything. Still, you wait patiently as he goes to the back room to grab it. When Paul returns he’s holding a decent sized shopping bag. You’re not sure what it could be, but you take the bag and thank him, too focused on getting up to your apartment and out of your work pants. 

As soon as the door to your apartment is closed behind you, you drop your bags onto the kitchen counter and slip out of your dress pants. Your bra follows shortly, and you settle into your couch with your take out. The rest of your evening is spent lounging on the couch, catching up on your shitty reality tv shows and taking a break from work. When you look down at your phone and see that it’s only 8:30 you tell yourself it’s too early to go to bed, but you’re exhausted and you bed is calling to you. As you gather your dishes and clean up your kitchen you’re reminded of the package you picked up on your way in. 

The bag is still sitting on the counter where you left it a few hours ago. You take a minute to think about what it could be or who it could be from, but nothing comes to mind. When you open the bag all you see is some blue fabric. It feels like clothes, so you dump it over on to your counter and come to find that the bag is full of what looks like Vancouver Canucks gear. You’re in surprised to say the least. There are multiple pieces of clothing laying in front of you, and you’re sure it’s at least a few hundred dollars worth of apparel. There’s a note too, but you choose to look through the other contents first. 

First off, there’s a navy blue hoodie with the classic Cancuks logo. There are two t-shirts, one has the Canucks throwback logo on it and the other has the pride logo printed on the front. You smile at that, knowing that he obviously knew you would like that one. Next, is a Canucks beanie with a pompom on the top. Finally, you unfold a royal blue jersey. You’re expecting to see a number six on the back but instead your eyes land on the number 40. You can’t help but feel a little sad for a minute, knowing he didn’t get you a jersey with his number on it. 

Alas, you unfold the piece of paper that was sitting in the bottom of the bag and it reads:

I figured you might need some gear for the game Saturday. I hope everything fits okay. 

If you ever need anything I’m Apt. 859, *his phone number* 

-Brock

P.S. Petey insisted that I include his jersey since he’s “your favorite.”

You don’t feel as bad about it not being a Boeser jersey now, and you use a magnet to hang the note up on your fridge before folding your new gear and heading to bed, grinning ear to ear. 

Your presentation goes off without a hitch the next day and you and your coworkers are ready to let loose a bit for the Cancuks game the following evening. You meet up with them at a bar that’s not far from the arena, and you grab a round of drinks before you head into the game. The four co-workers you meet up with take note of your Pettersson jersey, and you smile, satisfied with their praises. A couple of them are sporting jerseys too, one with Horvat and the other with a Boeser. You don’t mention that you know the guy who actually wears number 6, and when he scores the game winning goal you cheer just as loud as everyone else, but secretly you’d like to think it was because he knew you were there in the stands. 

When you get home after the game you shoot Brock a quick text.

You: nice goal tonight! i think this pettersson jersey is lucky! (10:54pm)

You: this is y/n btw (10:54pm)

You’re not sure if he’ll reply so you set your phone down and start to go through your nightly routine. A few minutes later you hear your phone buzz from your night stand. 

Brock: petey didn’t even score tonight and you’re still talking about him? maybe i’ll just take that jersey back (11:01pm)

You: hey, no take backs. but it was a very nice goal!  (11:03pm)

Brock: how was your first game? (11:07pm)

You: my second favorite player scored, my team won, and my co-workers were impressed with my vast hockey knowledge so i’d say it went pretty well! (11:13pm)

You spend some time debating on how to word your message, not wanting to send a reply too fast, and not wanting to seem to flirty, but you still let yourself tease him a little bit more before hitting send. 

Brock: HAHA. very funny. (11:14pm)

Brock: i’m glad you had a good time. (11:14pm)

Brock: we’ll have to get you to more games. it looks like you might be good luck. (11:15pm)

*

Sunday morning is your time to relax. You try not to do any work and opt to take some time for yourself. This can take many forms, like lounging around the house or even reorganizing your bathroom. Today you opt for baking. You bake a couple dozen brownies and place them in a container before slipping on some shoes to head up a few floors. 

You hadn’t given it much thought until you were standing outside of his apartment door, but the two really only interact in the hallways or elevator and you’ve never been to each other’s apartments. The brownies in your hand are probably getting colder by the minute, and you know they taste the best when they’re still warm so you convince yourself to bring your knuckles to the door. 

The person who answers the door isn’t Brock. The boy who answers is shorter and has dark hair. You recognize him as Quinn Hughes. Brock told you once that they call him huggy bear, but you’re not totally sure you know why. 

“Uh-“ There aren’t words coming out of his mouth, it’s more like an awkward sound that you think it is meant to convey some sort of confusion. 

“Um, Is Brock here?” You ask, offering a smile to the boy in front of you. 

“Oh, yeah. Um, come on in.” Quinn doesn’t really know if he should be letting someone into his friends apartment, but Brock made him answer the door so he didn’t feel so bad about inviting a stranger in. 

You walk through the door and take in Brock’s home. It’s similar to yours, but slightly bigger. He lives on a different side of the building so the windows are slightly different too. You follow Quinn into the living room where you see Elias and Brock and Jake Virtanen sitting on the couch playing video games. The dogs notice you first as you walk in and Quinn nudges Brock telling him someone is here for him before he turns around to see you. 

“Y/N! To what do we owe the pleasure?” He asks as he stands from the couch. 

“I uh, I just wanted to bring you these. I figured it’s the least I could do since you got me that lucky Pettersson jersey.” He lets out a solid laugh at that. You liked it when he laughed like that. He lets his head hang back and his hand rests on his stomach. 

“Well thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.” He says as you hand him the box of brownies. He walks over to the kitchen counter and pulls the lid off.  The smell of freshly baked brownies starts to fill the room, and the other boys are at the counter before you know it. 

“Oh shit. Those look good.” Jake says as he eyes the baked goods.

The boys are quiet for the next couple minutes except for some humming and “yum” sounds that escape between bites.  A couple dozen brownies is apparently no match for four hockey players. You swear half the box vanishes in front of your eyes as they compliment you on your baking abilities. You mentally thank your mom for the perfected family recipe that you practically have memorized. They make friendly conversation, besides Quinn who has remained rather quiet, except for offering a few side comments or sounds of agreement. Eventually Elias asks you more about how your first game hockey game went. 

Elias is observant and incredibly well spoken, and he’s making what could have been an awkward situation a very pleasant one. He guides most of the conversation as Brock becomes more comfortable with the dynamic of you being there with his other friends. It’s cute how close Brock and Elias are. Even just standing in the kitchen you can tell the two of them have a bond that’s different than the ones between the other boys. Brock is sometimes shy and blushy when the two of you talk, but with his friends he’s more bold and sure of himself. 

The small talk is getting thin, and you’re about to politely end the conversation and tell them you should go when Jake asks how you and Brock know each other. You don’t know why you hesitate, but you do, and you look at Brock who is standing next to you. Before you can decide how to answer Brock replies simply, “We went to UND together back in the day.”

“I guess we don’t really know each other very well, but we had some mutual friends.” You try to add and clarify.  

“Oh cool,” Jake replies, not really giving it much thought. “So are you liking the city so far?” he asks. 

“I like it a lot , I just haven’t had a lot of free time outside of work to explore. But, my co-workers finally like me since I know all about hockey now, and the one girl in our office is my best and only friend!” You laugh at yourself a bit, because you know it sounds a little sad that you’re a young twenty-something with zero signs of a social life. It earns some laughs from the guys too. 

“You should come out with us next weekend, you gotta experience Vancouver’s night life! Plus, we’re celebrating my dog’s birthday!” Jake exclaims, and you can see Elias rolling his eyes and Brock and Quinn are both laughing while shaking their heads. 

You look between the boys, a bit confused, “Your what? Your dog’s birthday?” 

Jake laughs too when you seem so confused about it, “It seemed like a good excuse to go out. Gotta keep it loose, ya know?” He seems serious about this and you can’t help but laugh. The guys explain that they don’t get out too often during the season, and some of them don’t even like going out, but sometimes it’s good to just let loose with the boys. Jake is one who particularly enjoys a good night out, and so occasionally when the boys haven’t frequented a bar in a while, he comes up with “reasons to celebrate.” Elias sounds like a dad when he says that they all just go along with it to make Jake happy, and Jake looks like a little kid when he rolls his eyes at them. He’s also quick to make the point that they always end up having a good time. 

“You obviously don’t have to come, but I think it’ll be fun, and you should bring your friend. Her name’s Jade, right?” You’ve talked to Brock about Jade a couple times in the past, but you didn’t really think he would have listened that intently or that he would remember your co-workers name. It’s nice knowing that he does. 

“Yeah, it’s Jade. I guess I could ask her if she’s free and let you know.” You tell him, still contemplating if you even want to go out to some busy club on a Saturday night. 

*

“So, uh— What are you doing this weekend?” You ask Jade, your co-worker as you walk into her office. She’s the only other girl in your office, and you’ve become good friends over the last few months. Her dark hair and dark features match her bold and strong personality. Jade constantly bugs you to get out more, especially on the weekends, but you usually curb her requests saying that you’re still getting settled into the new city. This excuse was wearing thin since you’ve been here almost four months now, and you knew you would have to give in to her requests soon. Instead, you’ve opted to invite her to go out with Brock and his friends this weekend. Or rather, pray she would go with you because there was no way you were going alone. 

“I don’t know, probably nothing because my friend is a loner who doesn’t ever leave her house.” Jade looks over at you with a knowing expression causing you to roll your eyes. 

“Your loner friend actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out this weekend.” You say mimicking her cadence.  “That guy from college who lives in my building is celebrating his friend’s dog’s birthday, so him and some of their friends are all going out.” When you explain why Brock’s friends are going out you realize again just how ridiculous it sounds, and you know it’s not really why they’re going to a bar to get hammered, but you relay the information anyway. 

You told Jade about “the guy from college” that you had run into in your apartment building, but you didn’t tell her that the guy was Brock Boeser. You were sure she knew who he was, even if she wasn’t shy with her discontent with sports. She’s just not a sports person, but anyone in Vancouver would immediately recognize the name of one of their biggest players. All you told her was that you had gone to UND together and that you had never really been friends, just that you had mutual friends. 

She never asked more about who he was, but she did ask if he was cute. You couldn’t lie, it would be sinful to do so about a man who was as good looking as Brock, so you told her the truth. You also told her how good of a guy he was and that he never hesitates to start a conversation with you. Since then, she has asked for regular updates on your interactions together. Even though you withheld some crucial information, you still told her about how he liked talking about hockey and that he had gotten you some Canucks gear to wear to the game. When you told her about that she insisted that he liked you, and part of you wanted to believe that, but another part of you knew that you and Brock still barely knew each other. 

He seems really sweet, but you can’t help but feel like he still has plenty of girls vying for his attention. Girls who are prettier and smarter and nicer than you. When you think back to those brief interactions with him it still gives you a feeling of anxiety. It’s the kind of anxiety that you get when you remember something embarrassing you did as a kid or when you’re trying to fall asleep and you remember that you said “you too” to the barista who said “come again!” Either way, you weren’t convinced that your limited interactions warranted any feelings on either of your parts, so you continued to try to suppress your growing feelings for him.

Luckily, Jade was happy to oblige your request of going out. She asked if your friend had any cute single friends, and while you weren’t quite sure if they were single, you said yes figuring that one of them had to be.

“Y/N, It’s me!” You hear Jade come in through your apartment door that you had left unlocked for her. It’s Saturday night and you’re getting ready to go out with Brock and his teammates. You still haven’t told Jade who he is, and you’re hoping she doesn’t freak out when she finds out. 

“I’m in my closet!” You shout back to Jade as she makes her way through your apartment. She finds you sitting inside your walk-in closet, trying to decide what to wear, “I’m having a crisis. I have no idea what I should wear.” You look over at her precisely curated outfit that’s perfect for a night out. She looks hot and it’s just enough to not be overdone. He hair is flawlessly sleek and her make up looks like an artist painted it on. 

“Stop moping. You’re just nervous because he’s cute and you like him. Go make us some drinks and I’ll pick out your outfit.” You don’t put up a fight, knowing that she’ll probably be able to piece together a great ensemble that you never would have thought of. Your strengths were probably better suited for making cocktails anyway, so you go to the kitchen and whip up a couple of drinks. 

On your way back to your room you turn on your “going out” playlist that hasn’t been touched in ages, and when the first drop of alcohol touches your tongue you automatically feel less anxious. She’s right, you totally have a crush on this guy, and you’re super nervous about going out with him and his friends. What’s worse, is that this was pretty much a pity invite, and him and his friends feel bad that you don’t know anyone else in the city.  

Brock’s night was going somewhat similarly to yours. When Elias got to his apartment for the pregame he found Brock standing in only his boxers with a pile of clothes covering his closet floor. Elias couldn’t help but laugh at him. He hasn’t seen Brock act this way about a girl in a long time. Come to think of it, he’s not even sure if he’s ever seen Brock act like this. Brock was sensitive, but he wasn’t anxious like this. He wouldn’t get tied up in things like what to wear or what to say to a girl. He did however, have the issue of falling way too hard way too fast, ending up in situations where girls left him after they got what they wanted. Over the years he’s learned how to guard his heart a bit better, and his friends, Elias especially, were always there to protect him. 

Elias likes you. He liked you the minute he met you. He was intuitive and was a good judge of character, which made him and Brock a good pair. Brock has a tendency to trust a little too much, but now Elias is there to help guide him toward the right people. When Brock introduced you to Elias, he could immediately tell that you were a good person. He could see it in your eyes, and in your genuine appreciation that Brock would recognize and say hello to you. Elias liked that you were sprightly enough to make a joke about knowing who he was. Most of all, he liked how Brock talked about you. Elias immediately recognizes when Brock has had a conversation with you before practice or a game. He comes in with a little pep in his step, that causes some of the guys to question if he got laid the night before, but now Elias recognizes that he must have seen you on his way to work. Brock gushes about your interactions and about how cute you are when you explain the hockey things you learn.  The day that you told him Elias was your favorite player Brock was so excited to tell him. He wasn’t even mad, he just loved how light hearted willing to joke around you were. 

Brock occasionally thinks back on the times he saw you after that first night at UND. He thinks about what would have happened if your boyfriend hadn’t been waiting for you outside of your dorm. It’s not that he thinks he would have gotten lucky or that you would have cheated on your boyfriend with him, it’s just that maybe if you had had a bit more time to get to know each other you could have at least become friends.  And maybe that friendship could have grown into something more and you would have broken up with that asshole to be with him. Brock thinks about what could have been, but he also knows that hindsight is 20/20. He doesn’t consider himself a superstitious guy, but he can’t help but think that you came to Vancouver for a reason. 

When your wardrobe crisis has been averted, you’re fully dressed in skinny jeans and a cute top that’s revealing enough but doesn’t exactly come right out and say “I want to have your babies right now.” (That’s how Jade described it, anyway.) The two of you have had a round of drinks and you decide that it’s probably an appropriate time to head up to Brock’s. You didn’t want to get there too early and be the only ones there, so you made Jade wait it out in your apartment until it was at least thirty minutes after the time he had said to come. 

Brock texted you letting you know the door was unlocked, and when you get out of the elevator you can already hear music playing from behind his door. “I can already feel it. This is going to be fun!” Jade tells you excitedly as you reach out for the doorknob. You laugh thinking about how she has no idea she’s about to be drinking with a bunch of professional hockey players for the night. 

When you open the door you see some of the guys you’ve met mulling about, most of them with drinks in their hands. Brock comes up to you almost immediately. Without even thinking he wraps you in a hug, and it feels so natural even though you’ve never had any sort of physical interaction with him. Your suspicions were right, he gives the best hugs, and you wish that you could stand there in his warm arms forever, but it only lasts a second before he’s pulling away and turning his attention to your friend who looks likes she’s surprised to see Brock Boeser hugging her coworker and Elias Pettersson coming up behind him to say hello. 

“Okay, you didn’t tell me that “your friend” was Brock fucking Boeser.” She doesn’t even try to whisper it, and it’s kind of what you love about her. She just expresses herself freely, and it’s honestly so funny when she says it.  It has Brock’s head falling back as he lets out a laugh. 

Brock and Elias introduce you and Jade to the other guys who are in the apartment. There are a couple girlfriends among them and even though they all look like they just walked out of an instagram ad, they all seem genuinely nice and aren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be. You don’t get too much time to mingle before Jake informs the group that the “birthday party” is ready to move to the bars, followed by packing into various Ubers. 

When you’re all at the bar, a few other guys show up, some single and definitely ready to mingle, but to your surprise some have even brought their wives. The drinks are flowing and you’re actually having fun. You notice that Jade and Jake have spent a lot of time talking, and he offers to get her a drink before they head off to the bar. You laugh, and shake your head as she turns back to give you wink before heading off with the hockey player. 

You turn your attention back to the guys standing around the table, when one of them asks you, “So, how do you two know each other? I feel like somebody said you went to UND?” It’s Brandon Sutter, you didn’t recognize him when Brock first introduced you, seeing as most of the photos you’ve seen of him include a hockey helmet covering most of his face. It’s probably the alcohol— no, it’s definitely the alcohol that has you responding to his question, “Yeah, we went to UND together, but we didn’t really hang out or anything, I think everyone just thought I was massive bitch.” You laugh, but you can see some confusion setting in on Brock’s expression. Brandon laughs too, not thinking much of what you said. 

“What do you mean?” Brock asks. He never thought of you that way back in college. He knew that guy you dated was jerk. He dimmed your light, and that wasn’t your fault. 

“I don’t know, I just figured you guys all thought I was kind of a bitch because I just hung out with my boyfriend all the time.” You don’t really know what else to say, thinking back to those days where you would follow Owen around like a lost puppy. 

“I don’t think anybody thought that, we just thought your boyfriend was dick.” He says, and before you can say anything else he adds, “No offense. He just didn’t seem like he treated you very well. That night he yelled at you in front of the dorm when he found out you went to our party left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth.” 

“Sounds like a dick, to me.” Quinn says matter-of-factly. You’re sure it’s the alcohol for him too, he’s been more talkative in the last hour than he has been in the two other times you’ve seen him. 

“Yeah, he was.” You answer back.

“So I guess you’re not still dating this guy, are you?” Brandon asks. You can feel sets of eyes all resting on you now, like you’re about to reveal a big secret. 

“No no, we broke up right before senior year of college. I dated a little in grad school, but when I found out I was moving to Canada I didn’t really bother with trying to find boyfriend.” You tell them, as they nod in response.

The rest of the night isn’t as serious. Jade and Jake tear up the dance floor, and when she nudges you to signal she’s leaving with him you tell her to wrap before she taps it, earning a laugh and wave goodbye. Brock stays by your side the entire night, neither of you wanting to join the others dancing. His arm stays perched on the back of the booth you’re in, while you listen to JT tell some elaborate story from their recent road trip. 

When Brock sees you yawn for the third time in a row he asks if you’re ready to head home. “Yeah, I’m tired. I’ll probably just head home soon.” You think he might offer to go back with you, but you don’t want to assume. Instead of yelling over the loud music he just nods and pulls out his phone. He tells the boys that you’re both heading out and they all say goodbye before Brock nudges you out of the booth. 

On the car ride home he asks you what you thought of the boys, laughing when your first response is that there are just so many of them. “It’s like trying to keep track of puppies. They’re there one second and then they’re off doing something else the next,” You laugh at yourself thinking about how many of them probably have undiagnosed ADHD, or maybe some of them are diagnosed. “But it’s cute, you guys are like a little family.” This earns one of those genuine Brock Boeser smiles. He’s proud of his little family. He loves them all, and he’s glad that you like them because he can tell they like you too. 

That night out leads to a few more texts back and forth, and eventually to full on conversations that go one for days at a time. One night he asked what you were doing and you told him you were going to watch the Battle of Alberta game. You had heard a lot about this rivalry since you embarked on your hockey education, and you figured you should see what all the hype was about. To your surprise, Brock asked if he could join you, and the two you spent the night watching hockey from your couch. 

You hadn’t watched a game this intense before, and when Matthew Tkachuk drops his gloves to fight Zack Kassian, Brock can tell you’re on edge. You knew there were fights in hockey, and you had watched a few clips on youtube, but it seemed more real watching it in realtime. You wondered what it would be like to see something like that in person. As the two players are ushered off the ice, you can’t help but wonder if Brock would ever find himself in a situation like that, and when you ask him if he ever fights during games he chuckles a bit before he answers, “No, I’m not really the fighting type. I think it’s better for everyone if I leave that up to guys like Zack and Jordie.” 

You’re not totally convinced by this, and you don’t like that the thought of Brock in a fight makes you feel so sick. He can sense your hesitation and he wants to try to ease your mind, “When fights like that break out, it’s usually because both players have agreed to it. You can see that they’re talking right before, they’re asking each other if they want to do it.” He narrates as the fight replays on your TV. “Occasionally someone will still throw a punch even if the other guy says no, but that’s not common. It’s kind of an unspoken rule that you have to stand up for your team, so most guys who are asked will fight, but I’m not usually the guy in that position. I haven’t fought once in the NHL, and I plan to keep it that way. I’d get rag-dolled by both of those guys.” He says pointing back to where the players now sit in their respective boxes.

It’s nice to know that Brock hasn’t fought anyone before, but you still worry about him getting hurt. What if he was the one who got caught by a bad hit? You can’t keep thinking about things you can’t control, so you try your best to shift your attention back to the game. 

You and Brock find yourselves in each others apartments more often after that. The two of you will make dinner and watch a game, or just watch TV for the night. Occasionally you walk down to the coffee shop on the corner together or walk over to the park with Coolie and Milo. You’ve started to become friends, and you feel like Brock is letting you get to know him more and more everyday. The conversation is easier, and the flirting is probably more noticeable than either of you thinks it is. Your positions on the couch have drifted from opposite sides of the couch to having your thighs touching while his arm sits, resting behind you across the back of the couch. He always greets you with a big hug, and lately you’ve noticed his arms lingering around your body a little bit longer than the time before

He hasn’t made a move yet, and you haven’t either. You think that maybe he just isn’t interested in getting closer, and you’re admittedly too self-conscious to try to make a move yourself. Tonight os just like any other night that the two of you spend together but you don’t notice that Brock is pretty far gone in his thoughts. That may be because you’re lost in your own as well. A few minutes later his voice brings you back to reality, “Are you okay?” You look up from where you’ve been staring down at the wine glass in your hand. You’re sitting at his kitchen counter, and he’s standing on the other side of the island looking back at you. You tell him you’re fine but you can see that he doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“You know you’re like a really good guy, right?” You ask him, after taking another sip of wine. 

He smiles back at you with a bit questioning in his eye, “I mean I’d like to think that I’m not too bad.” He says back. 

“No, Brock. You’re like really good. You help old ladies at the grocery store, and you talk about your nephew like he’s your own kid, and you’re nice to me when you really don’t have to be.”  You try to tell him just how genuinely good he is. You wish you could explain it more eloquently and you wish you could show him how good of heart he has. 

“That just sounds like normal people stuff,” he replies with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

He would say something like that, and think that normal people were just as nice as he is, and maybe they were, but the people that you’ve met throughout your life have somewhat tainted that idea for you.

“I think maybe you don’t realize how good you are.” He says back, looking you directly in the eyes. “You’re a good person, and just because I knew you back when you dated some jerk in college, doesn’t mean that it has any impact on how I feel about you now.” He’s so serious in this moment, and not at all like the usual lighthearted guy you’re used to. Somehow he knew just where your insecurities laid. He’s so genuine and honest sometimes that it hurts and the butterflies you feel in your stomach are getting harder and harder to ignore. 

The two of you don’t talk much for the rest of the night, and instead settle in a comfortable silence while Brock catches up on the episodes of Gossip Girl that Elias watched without him. Brock isn’t paying attention to what is happening on his TV. His mind is way too busy thinking of what he’s going to do next. The guys have all been pestering him to get a move on, saying that he’ll miss his window of opportunity with you, and he knows that they’re right. If he’s lucky he hasn’t missed his opportunity yet, but if not, he might just be screwed. 

He doesn’t even notice when his eyes shift away from the screen and move to rest on you. He’s taking his time, studying every feature, taking in every soft curve of your face. He loves the subtle crinkles on the sides of your eyes that deepen when you smile, and it’s even better when it happens because of something he said or did. If he could, he would make sure that smile stayed on your face for every second of the day. Your hair flows naturally without being fixed and he knows that you often let strands fall in front of your eyes when you’re too concentrated on your work or like now, when you’re invested in the show that you’re watching. 

Without a thought, and on instinct alone, Brock slowly moves his hand up toward your face and softly tucks the strand of hair behind your ear. You’re a bit caught off guard at first, but you remain still as you feel his fingers linger on the side of your neck. Eventually you let your eyes meet his and you realize just how close you are to him. The two of you stay like that for a minute, staring at each other, taking each other in. It’s too easy to get lost in Brock’s ocean-like eyes, and you swear you hear the enchanting sound of waves crashing on a beach.  

You’ve been staring at each other for what feels like too long, and you’re about to pull away when you feel Brock’s hand on the side of your face again. He’s slowly inching toward you and his eyes are still glued to yours. He’s searching for any source of panic or concern in your eyes, but he doesn’t find any. Your heart has taken over at this point and you can’t keep yourself away any longer, before you lean in and your lips finally meet his. 

Kissing Brock feels like everything good in the world. It’s feels like the first time you road a bike or the first time you tasted ice cream. It’s new and invigorating and yet you feel totally safe and secure. Before you know it, you’re deepening the kiss and Brock lets you lead him to where you’re comfortable. It just so happens that you find comfort when you reposition yourself so that your legs are straddling his and his hands are resting on your hips. It’s only when your hips shift on top of him and he can’t help but let out a deep moan that also he makes himself pull away from you. It’s then when you start to panic, and think that maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s realizing that now. 

“I don’t want you to think that I just want this.” He says as he motions to the small space separating your bodies. “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing…” he mutters out, like he’s a bit embarrassed, and nervous that you won’t want the same thing. 

“Brock, the only reason I wouldn’t want this is if you didn’t want it. But if you do, then I do too.” You say steadily. Brock smiles and it’s one of those big toothy smiles he only shares when he’s truly happy. You can’t say anything because you’re just as elated, so instead you lean down to kiss him again. 

*

It’s only been a short six months since that night on Brock’s couch, but now you get to call his bed your own, and when you come home to your shared apartment you’re greeted by your beautiful blond boyfriend and your two dogs. Brock insists that you’re their adoptive mom now, and to make it official he bought the two of you matching hats that say “Dog Mom AF” and “Dog Dad AF.” You both wear them when you walk your fury kids together and even though you tell him you think they’re cheesy he knows that you love them.

Brock is somehow everything you need him to be. He’s strong when you’re not and he makes you laugh when you’re sad, but most of all he’s your steady companion. It’s crazy now, thinking back to when you met him. You were just a kid, barely out of high school, and you really hadn’t had the chance to think about what you actually wanted for your life. 

Then you graduated, went to graduate school, and started to find out who you were without a boy to dictate the ins and outs of your life. When you were given the opportunity to move to Vancouver you saw it as a new beginning, but you didn’t realize that it was going to be a gift to more than one part of your life. Your work life and your career goals were finally falling into place and that just left one more thing—your love life. You had stopped worrying so much about finding a boyfriend along the way as you focused on yourself, but when Brock Boeser reentered your life you couldn’t ignore it. 

Brock’s reemergence was a surprise to say the least, but now you both see that it was a gift of a second chance. When you first met, neither of you were ready for the kind of commitment you now share with each other, and you know now more than ever that those years with Owen and the years you spent alone were all worth it, because when history repeats itself you have the power to change the narrative. 

[whimsicallyreading]

Eight Second Ride

Part Three-

(Part Two)

“So you are telling me-“ Aedion scowls from the other side of her bed, “you ditched me for a sweaty bull rider and didn’t even last an hour into the date?”

Aelin shoves a spoonful of cookies and cream ice cream into her mouth and sniffles. “That’s all you got from my story?”

He slings an arm over Aelin’s shoulders and she lays her head on his chest gratefully. She’d caught an Uber back to her apartment where Aedion was already camped out waiting for her.

One look at her mascara smeared face, and he’d made a pillow fort on her bed. Complete with ice cream and “Little Women” playing on his phone.

“No, I got the whole chauvinistic asshole, bit.” Aedion stabs his spoon into the container and breaks up a particularly large piece of Oreo. “I just decided to focus on the part that doesn’t make me want to leave you hear and go and kill him right now.”

“I thought cowboys were supposed to be classy.” Aelin watched Jo play with her sisters in their attic on Aedion’s tiny screen. “Take city girls into the country to ride a horse and show them a bigger purpose in life, kind of shit.”

“Hallmark is such a liar.” Aedion huffs and squeezes her shoulder a little tighter. “I’m sorry, Lin. I know going out tonight was a big step for you. It’s a shame he acted the way he did.”

It was rare Aelin acted on a whim these days. Not like she used to do when she was in high school. She felt a pull to go with Rowan, but her gut had led her into a situation that could have gone south very quickly.

It’s a hard thing when you can’t trust yourself.

“No. I shouldn’t have gone. Especially not alone.” Aelin’s feels her thoughts drifting. Creeping towards that iron box of memories she keeps locked tight. “It’s my mistake.”

“No.”

The fervor in Aedion’s voice draws her attention up to his face, and Aelin is jarred by the intensity of his expression. “Aedion-“

“It’s not your fault.” His voice is gravely, and his blue eyes flicker like the heart of a flame. “I don’t give a shit what that bastard thought you accepting his invitation meant. You don’t owe him sex because he buys you a drink.”

“Aedion-“ Aelin tries to interrupt again. A new wave of tears burns her eyes, but Aedion is on a roll and he isn’t going to quite down until he gets out what’s on his mind.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like an object that can be bought.” Aelin can’t look him in the eyes any longer, but a calloused hand guides her face to the crook of his neck.

“His friends are shitty. He should have made them shut up. Ogling you, and making you feel unsafe and uncomfortable aren’t funny jokes.” Aedion goes on as Aelin sniffles into his shirt.

“You deserve respect. It doesn’t matter what you are wearing, what he buys you, or what his expectations are. His behavior isn’t your fault.” Aedion whispers against the top of her head.

Aelin wraps the arm that isn’t squished under her, around his waist. “I love you, Brother Wolf.”

“I love you too, Fireheart.” Aedion kisses her forehead and tugs her closer, the old terms of endearment are exchanged between them with ease.

“I know you are still dealing with everything that happened a couple years ago. I’m happy to remind you how worth it you are whenever you need.”

Aedion was an island of safety in the turbulent ocean of her life. Even when Aelin was small, she’d often go to him before her own parents with her problems. He was steady, and calm. The exact opposite of her own personality.

After the incident, he hadn’t rested until she was safely at his side again. Aedion stood by her faithfully as she picked up the broken pieces of her life and held her hand as she tried to make something new from them.

“How come you already had this movie downloaded onto your phone?” Aelin teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Did you suddenly develop a sense of taste?”

Aedion purses his lips. “Lysandra said this movie is, and I quote, the most accurate depiction of the female experience.” He shakes his head. “I’ve tried to watch it three times, and I still can’t figure out what it’s even about.”

“You are a simple minded creature, cousin.” Aelin grabs her spoon and scoops a melty bite of ice cream into her mouth. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Anytime, Lin.” He leans his cheek on her head as the scene on his phone shifts from the cooler grey tones of the present, back to the warm colors that represented better days. “Anytime.”

~~~

The day started off better than she expected.

Aedion was gone when she woke up- he had to rise at an ungodly hour to make it to the fire station on time.

Yet, he set her alarm clock for her so Aelin woke up in time to get ready for work. He’d also set a glass of water and an Advil tablet on her bedside table to curb the headache she was sure to have from crying.

Aelin made it out the door with enough time to stop and get coffee on the way. She even splurged and got a chocolate hazelnut Frappuccino with enough sugar to smooth her wounded feelings.

It was going so well, Aelin should have known it was the universe winding up to screw her.

It was only a couple hours before she closed shop when Lorcan Salvaterre stepped through her front door.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” Were the first words from his mouth. His dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Rowan is going to flip when I tell him I actually found you.”

“What are you doing here?” Aelin’s slammed a stack of books on the counter.

Lorcan looked pensive. “Rowan said you mentioned owning a book store-“ he drags a hand through his dark hair. “I felt like I ruined his chance with you, so I thought I maybe if I apologized-“

“Let me stop you there,” Aelin didn’t bother looking at him as she labeled books and organized them into stacks. “You didn’t ruin anything, you didn’t help, but he screwed up all by himself.”’

“He realizes that,” Lorcan quickly defends, his voice gruff with irritation. “If I can give him your number I’m sure he will grovel for himself.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and slides another stack to the end of the counter. “You don’t get it.”

“Get what?” She can tell he’s losing his patience with her. Lorcan’s remorse only went so far, apparently.

Aedion’s words from earlier rang in her ears as she repeated them back to the man. “He was overbearing the entire time. Had double standard opinions about my life, and disrespected my boundaries.”

Aelin watched as Lorcan shifted on his feet, itching to say something but obviously refraining. Measuring his words carefully he looked her dead in the eye. “Look. He was just trying to impress you. Rowan doesn’t go out often. Don’t you think you are blowing this a little out of proportion?”

Red. Aelin saw red. Tasted it. Like iron in her mouth. Or maybe that was just the blood from biting her tongue so hard. “I’m working right now. You don’t strike me as extremely literate, but I have to ask for you to either buy something or leave.”

Lorcan glowered at her. “Fine.” He turns to walk out, but Aelin hears him call her a bitch under his breath.

Just then, Elide walks inside the shop doors. A backpack slung over her shoulder, finished with her classes at Rifthold U and prepared to work the evening shift with her.

Aelin is relieved for the interruption and about to take full advantage of it, when the small, brown-haired girl catches sight of Lorcan and beams like a rutting lighthouse.

“Lorcan! I didn’t know you were coming into my work, what a surprise.”

Elide. One of her best friends, runs up to the six-two tower of misogynistic cow boys and flings her arms around him. Hugs him.

Ellie she recalls the name being thrown out last night. She hadn’t put two and two together. Ellie was a common name. Of all the people in this city it had to be Elide, Aelin mentally bemoans.

She wonders if Elide knew how her cowboy behaved when she wasn’t around.

It doesn’t matter. Lorcan is all too aware of Aelin’s eyes boring into his skin, and knows he needs to make a quick get away.

“Ellie,” Lorcan pulls away from her. “I just had to see this book shop you are always talking about.”

He kisses her head, and looks at her with feigned remorsefulness. “I must have gotten your shifts mixed up in my head, though. I’m afraid I have to go. We booked a training time for six and I need to brush down Nettie before we start.”

“Oh,” Elide says, a look of genuine disappointment on her face. “That’s fine. Are we still on for a movie tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promises. He pecks her one more time on the lips and tips his chin towards Aelin. Anger still bubbling in his eyes. “Good day, ma’am.”

Aelin releases a breath when the doors close behind him.

“I’m so sad I missed him.” Elide frowns, tossing her back pack behind the counter. “At least you got to meet him. What did you think? He’s absolutely dreamy, right?”

Aelin chokes back a gag. “Yeah. He was really charming.”

“And get this,” Elide smiles. “He’s a cowboy. Like an actual, real life cowboy. He rides pulls and does team roping. It’s sexy.”

Aelin can’t hide the grimace this time. “You are like my baby sister. I never want to hear the words sexy from your mouth again.”

At least, never in the context of Lorcan. They’d had plenty of boy talk before.

“He even carries a rope.” Elide wags an eyebrow. “Better to tie me up when we-“

Aelin holds a book over her face. “I’m not listening to this! I will file a report with HR.”

Elide laughs. “You are the boss, Lin. You know we don’t have an HR.”

“I need to get one now,” Aelin grumbles. “I don’t need an image of yours and Lorcan’s naked asses in my head.”

She wanted Lorcan out of her head entirely. Along with Rowan and the rest of their cadre.

“Fine,” Elide sighs wistfully. “One day you will be in love and I won’t hold it against you when you want to talk about whatever babe you wind up with.”

Her eyes get a mischievous glint. “Actually- Lorcan has some really cute friends. I could set you up with?”

Aelin’s brain banks. “No. No thank you. I like being alone. I’m more than enough company for myself.”

“Come on, a double date would be fun!” Elide whines and tugs on her arm. “You never go out any more. We could have a great night out.”

An image of the twins cutting lines on the bar flash across her mind and make her shudder.

“I said no, Elide.” Aelin says a bit more harshly then she intends, but Elide gets the point and backs off.

“Sorry. I won’t mention it again.” Instead of anger she looks at Aelin worriedly.

She kind of hates that more.

“Thanks.” She shakes her head and tries to clear the residual stress from her head. “I have to set up a new shelf display. Want to help?”

Elide lights back up at the prospect. She loved designing and organizing. They have a great time setting displays up together and Aelin knew it would take her mind away from the tension she’d created.

She just really hoped that Elide dating Lorcan wouldn’t drag any drama into her own life. Aelin didn’t care what half asses excuses Lorcan made, she wasn’t interested in seeing Rowan again.

Hello! I’m so glad I got this posted today. 😂 I’m hoping to get the next chapter of DRNS out tomorrow. After that, my birthday is next Tuesday and I reaaallly want to do a mass update of all my fics then as a hooray to 21. (Yes. That is what I’m doing for my 21st 🤣) Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List- (Let me know if you would like to be removed or added!)

@charincharge

@westofmoon

@jorjy-jo

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[ddaeng-danvers]

under and over

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

genre: fluff

summary: in which anakin learns how to braid hair

warnings: mention of death, minor injuries, the reader is described as having long hair

word count: 2753

a/n: well...i’m having an anakin phase, what can i say. this is unedited and i wrote it in one sitting so i apologize for any mistakes, also!! i’m aware some things may be inconsistent with ~canon~ but i’m having a good time so leave me alone,,, there are also mentions of platonic anakin x padme as an fyi... finally!! this isn’t a part two of my last fic (dreams) but in my brain they are like the same universe,,, so yeah,,, enjoy!!

masterlist

*this gif has nothing to do with the fic but he looks GREAT so i’m using it anyway*

You left for the Jedi Order when you were quite young. You left only your mother behind, as your father died in a shipping accident on Corellia. You held on to as many memories of your mother as possible, as she was the only family you had left. One of your fondest memories of your mother was the way she did your hair. Every morning, from the moment you had a sprout of hair on your head, she attempted to braid and style it intricately. The styles were always beautiful, inspired by the different cultures of the galaxy your mother had seen in her travels with your father before he passed.

Now, over fifteen years later, you long for the feeling of your mother’s fingers weaving through your hair. Because you left for the order at such a young age, your mother was never able to teach you her braiding and styling methods. This has left you with two simple skills, tying your hair into ponytails, and braiding it into two strands on either side of your head. You longed for the ability to weave it atop your head, but now, with the war, there was little time for hair styling.

Almost immediately after passing your trials, you were thrown into the Clone War. You worked alongside Anakin Skywalker and the 501st battalion most often, but frequently bounced around to others, such as Obi-Wan’s 212th, and your former master Shaak Ti’s position on Kamino. You were never officially assigned a battalion of your own due to your opposition of the war, but remained a Jedi General for the benefit of the Republic.

After a particularly rough mission, your find yourself sneaking from the medbay (you suffered only minor scrapes and bruises) and retreated to your quarters. It is there that you find Anakin standing on the balcony.

“What’re you doing out here, Ani?” He smiles and looks back at you.

“I should be asking you that. You should be in the medbay.” You look at the ground, feeling the slightest bit guilty. You know how much Anakin cares for you. If you stayed you may have lessened his worrying slightly.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing too serious.” A moment of silence passes. “What about you? You and Snips didn’t come out unscathed either.” Anakin’s face shrinks in the slightest, the thought of his padawan’s injuries a difficult one to process.

“We’re both okay. She was checked over. Hit her head pretty hard, but she’ll be okay. She does have to stay on bedrest for a bit, which I’m sure she’s thrilled about.” You both laugh at the thought.

“She reminds me of you, y’know.” Anakin’s expression becomes puzzled.

“Really?” He asks. You nod, looking out into the Coruscant skyline.

“She’s headstrong, confident. Sometimes a bit overconfident.” Anakin lets out a chuckle. “But she’s got a good heart. And she cares about those around her, deeply.” Anakin smiles at you again.

“Well I certainly do care for you, my love.” He leans down and presses the softest kiss to your lips, and then to both cheeks, which begin to redden. He still makes you feel like a bubbling padawan.

“We should probably head to bed soon, debriefs and all in the morning.” Anakin curtly nods, continuing to gaze at the setting sun. “We can check on Ahsoka too, before we head to bed., if you want.”

Although attachments are technically forbidden by the Jedi Council, there was a strange exception granted to you and Anakin. The council knew of your relationship, and even approved it. Master Yoda claimed you had prevented Anakin from falling down a darker path. He insisted that the force willed you together. Luckily, it seems the exception of your attachment has led to some more leniency in the Council regarding the subject.

After a quick trip to the refresher and a check-up with Ahsoka, you and Anakin retire back to your quarters. (Technically Anakin has his own quarters that he is supposed to stay in, although everyone knows this is a rare occurrence). He always seemed to like your room more. He claimed it had more personality than his. Likely because he didn’t have much to bring with him from Tatooine, and materialism was generally discouraged among Jedi.

Being held by Anakin at night felt like a gift from the Maker himself. His arms warm, his chest firm, and his hands combing through the tresses of your hair.

Anakin awoke the next morning to a cold bed. He heard you clamoring around the refresher. Curious, he threw on his robe and knocked on the door.

“You alright in there, love?” He stands up against the door, waiting for a response. You open the door a moment later, a grumbly look on your face. It seems you’ve already gotten dressed. You had on a brown and black tunic and pants. Your armor for battle left at the foot of your bed, since today was to be a day filled with debriefing, strategizing, and paperwork.

“I’m fine, I just woke up early and then couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to get up, be productive, but I just can’t do my hair right.” Anakin noticed the rough braids on your scalp, likely from failed attempts at braiding it moments ago.

“I wish I could help you, but hair isn’t my area of expertise.” Anakin looks at you through the mirror as he wraps his arms around your torso. He places a kiss to your shoulder.

“It’s fine.” You affirm. “I’m just frustrated.”

The debrief with the Council went without a hitch. Just a standard report on your success, information regarding casualties, and your new assignments. Fortunately, the Council gave the two of you a few days off before your next assignments. You planned to spend every waking moment possible with Anakin, as you were being sent to aid Obi-Wan and the 212th. You returned to your quarters shortly after the meeting to strategize a plan for your upcoming assault with Anakin on your heels. He helped you as much as he could, before becoming distracted. (He was never the best strategizer. He joked you were the brains of this relationship). He tinkered with his arm as you worked alongside him.

A knock on the door pulled you from your work. You opened it slowly, curious as to who it could be. Opening it all the way, you were met with the colors and patterns of a traditional Nabooian gown.

“Padme!” You exclaimed. It had been so long since you’d seen her. You grew quite close when you and Anakin were assigned to protect her all those years ago. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on Senate business, and I couldn’t be here without stopping by to say hello to you two.” Anakin has since gotten up from his seat and come over to great Padme as well. “I was going to stop and see Ahsoka, but I assumed she’d be training. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ahsoka was actually injured on our last mission. Nothing serious, just a mild concussion, she’s resting in her quarters as far as I know.” Anakin assures.

“We could stop by and see her, I’m sure she’d be excited to know you’re here.” Padme smiles at the implied compliment. You grab your robes from your bed, and usher everyone through the hallway to Ahsoka’s quarters. You knock as lightly as possible on the door.

“Ahsoka, you in there? You have a visitor.” Ahsoka fumbles behind the door, before opening it.

“Senator Amidala!” Ahsoka exclaims. The two of them envelop in a brief hug before separating. “It’s great to see you!”

“And you as well Ahsoka. You’ve gotten so tall!” Ahsoka viewed Padme as an older sister figure. She’d lost the rest of her family so young, she had little memory of them. The memories she does have however, she cherishes. You and her both.

After an hour or so of catching up, you notice Ahsoka’s eye’s begin to droop. You look up at Anakin who seems to have noticed the same thing. Through the briefest of eye contact, you understand Anakin’s request. He wants you to stay with her, make sure she’s actually resting. You nod, as Anakin whispers this information to Padme. “It’s been great catching up with you Ahsoka, but I’m afraid I have to tend to that Senate business now. Rest well.” Ahsoka nods politely, her drowsy expression only worsening.

“Thank you Senator Amidala. See you later. You too, Master Skywalker.” You stay in your standing position before guiding Ahsoka down to her bed. She practically rolls over the moment she sits down.”

“Tired?” You chuckle. Ahsoka smiles slightly.

“Yeah, this concussion took me out more than I care to admit.” You laugh again. “You are just like Anakin when he was a padawan. It scares me sometimes how similar you to are.” Ahsoka nods again.

“I guess that means we’re a perfect match.”

“I guess so.” Ahsoka seems to drift off quickly, and you begin to tidy anything out of place around her room. There isn’t much out of place, so you make your way to the door. But just before you open it, Ahsoka calls out your name.

“Master Y/L/N?” You walk over to the edge of her bed again.

“Yes Ahsoka? Is there something wrong?” Her expression is confused and guilt-ridden.

“Can you stay here with me? I haven’t gotten very good sleep lately, I’ve been having nightmares.” You looks down at Ahsoka again. She seems to be like Anakin in her sleep habits as well.

“Of course, Ahsoka. If anything you are sparing me from planning Obi-Wan’s attack later this week.”

“I’m sure Master Kenobi can figure that out himself.” Ahsoka smiles.

“Yes, I’m sure he can.”

Anakin smiles as her feels your Force presence relax, assuming because you’ve fallen asleep. Padme smiles up at him.

“You’ve got that dumbstruck look on your face, again.”

“What do you mean again?” Anakin questions.

“You were looking at her like that the whole time we were in Ahsoka’s room.” Padme laughs. “It’s okay, it’s cute. I remember you two on Naboo. Absolutely dancing around your feelings until I put a stop to it.” Anakin remembers his mission with you to Naboo fondly. You assumed Anakin loved Padme, when he never held romantic feelings for her. Only familial admiration. You and Padme spoke over dinner one night after Anakin went to bed early. She essentially pried your confession out of you, but you assured her that Anakin loved her. How very wrong you were. Padme made it her mission to set you two up while you were still on Naboo. Clearly, she was successful.

“I have a strange request.” Anakin spoke up. Padme nodded at him to continue speaking. “Can you teach me how to braid hair?” Padme stops in her tracks, Anakin continuing to walk a few steps forward before turning around. “What?”

“Nothing, just, that is in fact a strange request. Why do you want to learn?” Anakin describes the scene of you this morning, frustrated in the mirror.

“Her mother used to style it, but she left for the Order so young that she was never able to learn how her mother did it.” Padme nods along.

“I can teach you. We’ll start with some simple ones, I’ll leave you datapads to look over in the future. Does that suffice?” Anakin nods, gratefully.

“Yes, thank you Padme. When should I meet you again for my...lesson?”

“We can go back to my room right now, if that works for you?”

“Of course, but I thought you had Senate duties to attend to?” Padme chuckles.

“If this is for Y/N’s benefit, this far outweighs my senatorial duties.” Padme and Anakin laugh and continue their walk down the hall.

Anakin spent the next few hours listening to Padme’s instructions as she demonstrated a few hairstyles on her handmaidens. They allowed Anakin to practice on their hair as well. Anakin was always a fast learner, and picked up these skills quickly.

Time flew by, and Anakin suddenly felt your Force precense awaken. He ties the braid he was working on in Sabe’s hair, and received an impressed nod from Padme.

“Not half bad, Anakin. You’ve picked this all up quite fast.” Anakin gives a nod with a hint of smirk on his face. He’s impressed with himself too. He thanks everyone in the room, especially the handmaidens who have had him tugging at their hair for the past few hours, and departs for your quarters, excited to show off his new skills.

When he arrives, you’ve already made it back from Ahsoka’s room and changed into a lighter pair of pants and a looser tunic. You have battle plans strewn across the table, with your head resting in your hands.

“Thank you for staying with Ahsoka, I had a feeling she wasn’t getting the best rest.” You nod in agreement.

“She’s been having nightmares. Nothing serious, I think she’s still reflecting on the mission. I think she’s being reminded of her squadron on Ryloth. She’s afraid of it happening again.” Anakin’s expression sinks. You know him well enough to understand his thought process. He wishes to protect Ahsoka from as much pain as possible. Although he knows this isn’t possible, he beats himself up when she feels this pain. “I can practically read your thoughts, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I just wished she believed in herself a little more. She’s capable, but afraid of further consequences.” You both nod and let a comfortable silence overtake the room.

Hours fly by yet again, and the sun has set behind the Coruscant skyline, signaling the end of another day. You both wordlessly get ready for bed.

As you finish drying your hair, Anakin can seethe wheels turning in your head. He knows exactly what you are about to attempt, and he has a surprise in store. He grabs your brush of the stand along your bed, and elastics gifted to him by Padme. “Love, come here.” He motions for you to sit in front of him, your bottom practically in his lap. Anakin has brushed your hair before, you used to rebraid each other’s braids during your time as padawans as well, so you weren’t suspicious when Anakin began to brush through you hair.

What did surprise you is when he began to section it off. He weaved it gently between his fingers, skillfully. He managed to avoid every knot and unnecessary tug. You felt him pin the braids intricately forming a ring over the top of your head. The rest were tucked into a bun, with braids that formed a section of their own. He placed his hands on your shoulder to signal his completion, and you looked at him eagerly.

“Can I look at it?” You asked, brimming with glee.

“Of course, love.” You rush to the mirror in the refresher. As soon as you are met with your reflection, you are rendered speechless. Anakin has since gotten out of bed and come to stand behind you in the refresher. “You like it?” Anakin asks. You nod your head. You turn your neck to see the back, and it’s beautiful, The braids flow within your natural hair perfectly. It feels both similar and different from your mother’s style. Not quite Correlian, but…

“Padme taught you how to do this.” You stated.

“How did you know?” Anakin asked, surprised you deciphered it that quickly.

“I’ve seen her wear something similar before. It also feels very Nabooian.” Anakin gleams down at you, thrilled to see your smile. You reach up and grip his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. You separate a moment later. “Can you teach me how to do this?”

Anakin laughs. “Of course my love.” The two of you retire to bed shortly after. Anakin admires his handiwork as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ani. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, love. It made me upset that you never got to learn from your mother, I know how much it meant to you, so we can learn together.” The thought of Anakin with his hands in your hair glaring at a datapad about hair styles made you giggle. “Maybe you can pass these hairstyles on to our children one day.” The thought of Anakin with a child, your child in his lap, makes you smile as you slip into sleep.

[sayonarasanity]

Reverberation

Chapter V

link to AO3

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

notes: the song that will be mentioned in this chapter is She's a Rainbow by Lola Marsh and also here is the Spotify link. I highly recommend you to listen to it especially while reading that part. it's truly an incredible song

The first year of high school passed by in the blink of an eye. Between the adjustment of classes, advanced math, and literature, teachers of idiosyncratic character treats and a variety of teens in the class he didn’t even understand the period between September and June. If he was being honest there wasn’t much noteworthy difference between middle school and high school except for the lessons and maybe some physical changes among his peers as well as himself. Save for the height part. Apparently, he wasn’t gifted like that giant Mike or the very sophisticated Erwin Smith.

There was nothing much to do during the summer break. He worked alongside his uncle in the market to at least gain some money and not spend his whole time lying on his bed, sweaty and gasping for a breath while a single leaf on a tree begged for a tiny breeze to make it wiggle. He read some books, watched some TV shows, played soccer with the other boys in class; Mike, Erwin, Oluo, Guther, Eld and even Moblit when or if they were around. Went to the beach with the same squad in addition to girls like Petra, Nifa, Nanaba and Hanji.

Most of his time was spent with Hanji, of course. On the roof, in the attic, in each other’s rooms, sometimes at the library—because the heat didn’t stop Hanji from being a complete nerd—and sometimes she helped him in the market while stuffing his mind with countless  mind-blowing  topics.

And so came the second year of high school.

And it took Hanji only two weeks to be late for the first class in the morning.

“I can’t believe you actually slept in,” Levi told her after she came inside the class during the break, gasping, her face flushed red possibly from running, hair dishevelled and absolutely not  combed,  and sat down on her desk in front of him.

She was trying to adjust her breaths as she turned over to face him. The dispersed, brown strands were covering her face, some of them had stuck on her reddened cheek and forehead. After the not so successful haircut, Levi had given her, she had also gotten bangs. Courtesy of her mother. “I was reading a book last night.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

She pushed the glasses up, and leaned in closer, putting an elbow on top of his desk. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What kind of book could possibly make you stay awake all night?”

“It’s called The Blind Owl.” She shivered as if a chill had gone through her body. “It was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read. And the thing is I couldn’t stop reading it because it was also ridiculously intriguing,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “It cost me my sleep though.”

“That bad, huh?” Levi asked, but it was obvious from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad actually. It was masterfully written for sure. It was just—”

“Disturbing.”

“Yes. There is no other word to explain it.” She ran a hand through her dispersed hair, but her fingers got stuck between the knots. Then she looked at her wrist and groaned frustrated. “I forgot my hair tie.”

One of the things the almost six years of friendship with Hanji had thought him was to collect the items she had a habit of forgetting, mostly in his room. He had a drawer full of her lost, black hair ties. He kept a few on his pencil case or sometimes, like today, he carried one of them on his wrist. “Here,” he said extending it to her.

“What would do without you?” she whined as she took the tie from him.

“You wouldn’t survive a day,” Levi pointed out. It wasn’t even half-joke.

“Agreed,” she nodded. She had finished tying up her hair. Now her face was more on display, the flush on her cheeks was nearly gone. Levi realized that her nape was not covered with the too-short strands that couldn’t make it into her sloppy, little ponytail.

His hand moved instinctively, naturally even. “Your hair has grown long again,” he told her with a frown. And when his fingers touched her bare nape, she winced quite clearly for his frown to get deeper. He retreated his hand upon her reaction.

Her hand held the place he had barely touched seconds ago and when she noticed his expression she laughed. “God, your fingers are cold.”

Levi folded his hand as a fist, pressing his fingertips on his palm to see if his fingers were indeed cold as she had said. His body temperature was low, it was no news to him but at the moment his fingertips was not that cold for her to give such a reaction. Maybe because she had run here it was her body which was unnaturally hot, he reasoned, not really satisfied but he would accept it for the time being.

“Do you want me to cut it?”

“No,” she objected, avoiding his stare. “I’ll use it like this for a while.”

Her hand went on rubbing her neck, it seemed like an almost unintentional, absent-minded motion at this point.

“I made some research,” Hanji said when the silence got a little awkward for their standards. She then looked through her bag with both hands and slammed a wrinkled piece of paper on his desk.

“What’s this?” He examined her inelaborate handwriting but couldn’t understand the overall concept of what was written. Meanwhile, Hanji brought a pen over the page and underlined two words that were written in capital letters.

ROSE and SINA.

“These two are the best universities of the country,” she started to explain. “Both in terms of education and in terms of different opportunities for students. Student clubs are very much active also the campuses are huge.”

Levi had heard of the universities of course. They were named after the cities they were located in. Sina was almost three hours away from their town and Rose was even further in the opposite direction. But they had to leave the town at some point if they wanted to receive a good education. As Hanji had told the two of them were probably their best options and if they manage to keep their grades high enough there was a chance for both of them to make it into the same university. But, which one?

“But?”

“But” she carried the pen over the word Sina and drew a circle around it. “Since Sina is a technical university, I think it is a far better option for us considering the departments we want to study.”

Levi hummed thoughtfully. She did have a point.

“Also,” she continued, eyes glittering. “Great professors like Keith Shadis, Theo Magath and Darius Zackly are teaching there. Imagine the lectures…” she shrieked with excitement and wiggled in her seat. “It’s gonna be so fun!”

Levi shook his head at her quite early thrill and snatched the pencil out of her hand. He drew an arrow to the word Sina and wrote elegantly above: GOAL. “Sina it is then.”

Hanji took the pencil back and while nodding she scratched the word he had just written and instead, bringing the pencil a little to the crosswise she wrote: DREAM.

She looked at him then as if to confirm, with a bright smile on her lips and eyes full of the glitter of the dream she held so close to her heart. It was contagious. Levi felt his lips curling up, and maybe a tiny bit of that lustre in her eyes had reached out to his own. And he thought that maybe it wasn’t that hard after all.

How naïve, a sly, foreign voice whispered in the back of his mind. Little boy, how naïve.

-

“So, what’s going on between you two?”

Hanji lifted her eyebrows upon Nifa’s question and moved her stare to whom the question was directed. Nanaba gulped her bite with seemingly a little more force than necessary and blinked innocently at Nifa. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Nifa wiggled her brows, smirking mischievously at their suffering friend. “You and Mike.”

Petra hid a chuckle behind her hand as Hanji bit her cheek inside to stop her smile from shaping so obviously. They were sitting in the backyard of the school on an arbour for lunch. There was still for about half an hour until their next class and from the looks of it, Nifa had decided to use it for some gossip.

“Nothing,” Nanaba answered nonchalantly then she brought the straw of her peach juice to her mouth and took a very long sip. Hanji didn’t miss the faint blush on her cheekbones. “We’re friends.”

“You’re a little too close for being friends, don’t you think?” Nifa asked with a sweet voice, dropping her chin on top of her intertwined fingers, smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Nanaba brushed her off, taking another bite from her sandwich.

“Stop tormenting her, Nifa,” Hanji interrupted just as Nifa was about to say something else. “She can tell us when she feels like it.” Hanji then smirked at a very pissed Nanaba, who was glaring at her so hard Hanji thought she could catch flames just by responding to her stare.

Suddenly, someone dropped something in front of her with a loud “pat” and Hanji looked down, startled, to a packet of chocolate milk, then looked up to a frowning Levi.

“Did you eat?”

“Yep!” Hanji rested her chin on her palm and smiled at him. “Did you?”

He nodded silently and gestured at the milk standing on the wooden table. “You’re gonna pay me back for that later.”

“Stingy,” she murmured as he turned his back to her. Hanji saw the other boys gathered up around a bench a little away from where she and the girls sat. And before Levi went too far away, she shouted behind him, “When shall we meet again?”

He glanced at her above his shoulder. “After school,” he said, flatly.

“Come on, Levi!” She lifted her chin from her palm, disappointed. “You should’ve said “when the hurly-burly is done”, I thought you were better than that!”

He turned his whole body to her this time, walking backwards. A smirk played on one corner of his lips, midday sun caught his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. “And you should’ve asked, “in thunder, lightning or in rain?” I thought you were better than  that , genius.”

Take him and cut him out in the little stars.

Levi was beautiful. Hanji recalled the day she had first realized it, the faint yellow leaves and the crackling sound of fire. The realization had hit hard, and she couldn’t have understood the reason why right away. It was startling that was for sure but after some thorough and logical consideration, she had decided that it was all about being a teenager.

It was that simple. Thinking a boy was beautiful was natural. Besides, it wasn’t just Levi. Erwin, for instance, was attractive. With a sharp chin, bright, blue eyes and that shiny yellow hair that always looked so soft like cotton. He wasn’t necessarily beautiful though but attractive still, handsome even.

And he will make the face of Heaven so fine.

Levi turned his back to her again and Hanji snorted, opening the straw of her chocolate milk. “He got me bad.”

When she put the straw between her lips for a long sip, she realized the silence that has settled on the table and when she took a glance above her glasses, she saw the three other girls looking at her.

“What?” she asked after gulping.

“What’s with you two?”

“Huh?”

It was Nifa again and this time the question was directed at her. “You and Levi?”

Hanji blinked, trying to reason her question. “What about us?”

“You seem close,” Petra added instead of Nifa. Her hazel eyes curious as she observed Hanji. “Like real close.”

Hanji frowned and pushed her glasses back to their proper place. “We are best friends.” They seriously hadn’t understood it for a year?

“I bet everyone thinks you’re dating,” Nifa said laughing.

Oh? “That’s ridiculous,” Hanji said, shaking her head. “Why would I date my best friend?”

Nifa shrugged, and Petra looked thoughtful. “How long have you been friends?”

Hanji didn’t know why but she felt her stomach curl. “Since we were eleven.”

Petra hummed and the conversation seemed to be over like that. Hanji chewed the plastic stick thoughtfully and with distress, she couldn’t find the reason why. The curl stayed solid in her stomach, sharp and insistent. Absently she noticed that Petra was staring somewhere with a strange expression in her eyes and when Hanji followed her stare, she saw Levi standing in front of the bench the other boys were sitting. Mike who was standing next to him had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he looked content, his features relaxed, his black hair looked smooth touching his forehead.

That all the world will be in love with the night.

Goddamn Juliet, she thought bitterly, frowning she took her eyes away from him. Goddamn Shakespeare.

*

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

It was Wednesday afternoon on a nice autumn day. Near them was a tree slowly getting peeled off its leaves, and the clouds were reflecting the orange light the sun created. It was also reflecting on her ginger hair, making it shine almost yellow.

“I, uh…” Petra cleared her throat, squeezed her hair behind her ear as the blush that had appeared on her cheeks gradually became more visible. “This is harder than I expected.”

Levi raised his brows. He had been wondering what Petra wanted to talk to him ever since she asked him if they could meet after school in the backyard this morning. He had found it a little awkward because it had felt like she wanted to talk to him in private and he couldn’t have thought of any reason why she would wish for that.

“You look nervous,” he told her.

“Well, of course, I am,” Petra laughed, not a cheerful one. “I am trying to…”

She let out a sharp breath as if she was angry at herself and she wasn’t looking at him too. Her eyes were scanning their feet, her fingers were fidgeting, brows furrowed.

And Levi was quietly getting an idea about why she wanted to talk to him.

“Just tell me,” He tried to encourage her, feeling his own heartbeat getting faster abruptly.  

Finally, she looked up at him, her cheeks painted crimson and she took a long, deep breath before she said, “Would you like to go to the cinema with me?”

“Oh,” he said.

Not the kind of reaction he should’ve given apparently. Petra bit her lower lip anxiously at first, searching his eyes. He must be pretty shocked for she looked a little discouraged upon his reaction. But within seconds she gathered herself up, her shoulders held high.

“I… liked you since the seventh grade,” she said, the blush spread from her cheeks to her neck, but she continued to be resolute without looking anywhere else than him. “And I thought that there is nothing wrong with asking a boy out if that boy doesn’t seem to be doing it anytime close.”

Levi felt his own cheeks heating up. Admittedly, he had never realized Petra had such feelings for him. “Sorry.”

Petra laughed, somewhat forcefully. “It’s okay,” she gulped, and a weak smile vibrated on her lips. “Just don’t be harsh if you’re gonna say no.”

Levi considered her offer quietly. Petra had always been a good friend and she was a nice person too. Kind, tidy and even funny. She loved painting and drawing and was pretty gifted at them as well. And she smelled fresh, Levi guessed it was because of the softener she used on her clothes, her hair was soft, and her eyes were pretty.

“When do you want to go?”

Said pretty eyes glittered as she beamed at him. For a second, in the back of his mind, he saw a very similar image belonging to another girl with auburn hair and hazel-brown eyes who had a smile that reminded him of the rainbow after rain and sun.

“What about this Friday after school?” Petra asked, excitedly.

“Sure,” Levi responded, trying to smile and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach.

*

When he stepped into the roof, the night was chilly, the sky was full of transparent, quietly moving clouds, the stars were shining behind them, the Wanning Gibbous was hanging low on the horizon, and Hanji was standing on the edge of the roof, her head laid backwards.

Levi didn’t even know if he breathed, his heart jumped to his throat as he threw his schoolbag to the ground and walked closer to her from behind cautiously. “Hanji, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Watching the sky,” she replied, smiling.

Levi felt a muscle move on his jaw; his heart was beating so loud it almost hurt his ears. He focused on adjusting his breaths. In and out. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get back down.”

Hanji shrugged and Levi nearly had a heart attack right then and there. He felt his eyes widen, and his breath hitched. “I feel closer to the clouds like this.”

“Hanji,” he took slow, careful steps towards her. The night breeze was toying with her dispersed hair, her face was tranquil, her eyes never left the sight of the clouds. The smile that was drawn on her lips was unmoving like it was craved there by the hands of a masterful sculptor. And he watched her, his heart still beating fast and loud, his breaths irregular, and his eyes wide, and he thought about—

Stars

how free she looked at that moment like she belonged to the sky, the stars and the moon. As if they shone for her only.

hide your fires.  

Brown hair and brown eyes but Hanji was luminous. She kept the colours hidden, had a brush and a palette ready in her hand. The murky night did nothing but to contrast the light, she had a way with the world which made her stood out among the dullest of sounds and faces. Even on top of a derelict building, she was—

Let not light see—

the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He grabbed her wrist, inhaling hard and thick then he drew her back with a quick move of his arm. Her body turned and crashed against him, and he stumbled backwards a few steps, but he kept his balance, wrapping his arms around her waist securely, without any intention of letting go. He vaguely heard the surprised shriek Hanji made upon his unexpected move. And he half-expected her to push him back, to laugh it off and to say that he was being dramatic again. That nothing was going to happen anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to jump.

Yet instead, her arms circled his neck as she rested her cheek on his head and at that very moment Levi realized that he had never thought of losing her, of what would happen if she were to leave his life. Just like he had never imagined a day without the sun rising. The thought was uninvited and unwelcomed, and it cropped a fear in his heart so profound, he drew a shivering breath in before he buried his face on her neck. Then he pushed that thought deep down to the dungeon in his head never to see daylight again.

“I’m okay, you know,” Hanji spoke after seconds.

“Stupid,” he said, holding her tighter. “Stupid four-eyes.”

“Mm,” she muttered, amused. Then she started to move left and right making him follow her movements as if they were dancing. “I’m going to let all the world know that Levi Ackerman cares for me.”

Levi placed his forehead on her shoulder, pressing hard. “Someone needs to care for your sorry ass, or you’ll drop it down a goddamn building.”

She laughed, and it felt so good to hear it he immediately craved the sound soon as it faded away. Hanji stopped moving afterwards, then put her hands on his shoulder to push him slightly back. He withdrew reluctantly but kept his hands on either side of her waist not ready to let go just yet.

Her eyes were somewhat misty as she watched him, as the sharp peak of a mountain lost behind a grey fog. Levi frowned at her, searching for a sturdy branch to hold and to obtain some kind of a clue about what she was thinking. He came back empty-handed, and Hanji snapped out of it soon after, smiling at him brightly and warm. Her hair was all over her face, her glasses were askew, and he brought a hand up to fix them.

Then he flicked her forehead instead.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, touching the slightly damaged skin.

“That was for almost giving me a heart attack,” Levi said nonchalantly and walked past her to grab his schoolbag. Then he sat down, bag between his legs as he searched for the snacks he bought after school.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” Hanji muttered as she placed herself next to him. “But you were just being dramatic. I wasn’t going to jump anyway.”

*

So, here was the thing, he needed to tell Hanji.

But he didn’t know how. Through all those years they had been friends, there had never been a secret among them. He knew everything about her. From the fact that she had fed a frog in her room when she was only seven without telling neither of her parents and how she accidentally killed the poor animal by forgetting to feed it properly. And to the very first crush, she secretly had on a boy who didn’t even know who she was when she was ten. Each and every detail in between had been craved in his head, everything about her was a book he had learnt by heart, and he knew that for her it was the same.

He didn’t understand why he was so unwilling now about telling her about Petra. Frankly, he was going to tell her yesterday but when he saw her standing on the edge of the goddamn roof, he had forgotten all about it in a second. Thursday, which was today, he couldn’t have found a chance to talk to her alone and tomorrow was Friday. And he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

Levi traced the shadows on the ceiling with his eyes, lying on his bed. It was near eleven pm but he didn’t have any sleep. Should he call Hanji? But no. It wasn’t something he could tell on the phone. It would be absurd and out of nowhere—

His phone started to vibrate on the bedside table.

He jumped a little, surprised at hearing a sound other than the voices in his head then stared at the phone for a while until he decided that it was going to ring till he opened it. And so, he did.

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” Hanji spoke before him as he lied back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I was trying to,” he lied.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized without sounding a bit sincere. “But this is more important than your sleep so…”

He raised a brow. “What did you learn again?”

“A lot of things. But that is not the reason why I called.” Levi heard some clatter he guessed it was the pressing of the computer keys. “I found a new song.”

He exhaled, wearily. “Seriously?”

“Wait before you judge,” she said. “Do you remember the time when you said, this is going to sound weird but, I was a rainbow?”

“No.”

“I hate you,” she said, darkly. ���It was our first time in the attic. I had told you about –”

“I know, Hanji.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I remember.”

She grunted and said some things he couldn’t quite pick clearly under her breath. “You don’t really deserve this but since I’m a nice person I’ll let you listen to it.”

He snorted, lips curling on the corners, and he waited for the song to start. And not long after, he heard the first notes, then a soft voice of a woman followed. He also heard Hanji accompanying quietly behind, murmuring the lyrics alongside. Then he closed his eyes to focus on the song properly.

Dearest, I'm broken

My body is unspoken

How could I be loved?

Wake up in the morning

Feeling uncertain

Like a burning old scar

For I remember

The joy I’ve had as a child

Various colours I’m hiding inside

She’s a rainbow

And I am

A difficult man

It was as if the song, the lyrics, the notes, the singer’s voice were each had little hooks, they captured his soul relentlessly. He felt captive, unable to move. The song made him feel way too many things, with an intensity that nearly choke him as he lied there. His throat felt tight, even after the song ended, notes faded, and all he could hear was Hanji’s regular breaths a complete opposite of how his heart pounded at the moment.

“So?” She asked when he was unable to speak. “What do you think?”

Levi cleared his throat, he needed to talk dammit. “It was nice.”

“Just nice?” She didn’t sound pleased at his response. “But you have to listen to it every day Levi so that you wouldn’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” Was she kidding?

“We don’t know where life would take us,” Hanji told him, her voice calm now. “It’s the reality of the world. I’m just guarantying myself.”

Oh, so she didn’t know? That no matter where life carried him, no matter how high and wild the waves would be it would change nothing. The sun would rise from the west, and all the world would crumble, melt and disappear. But he wouldn’t forget her.

“What if you forget me?” Levi redirected the question to her, wondering her answer.

“I wouldn’t,” she said, not hesitating.

“How do you know?”

“If I’m a rainbow then that would make you the sky, remember?” Some distinct shuffling came to his ears, and he imagined her lying on her side, the phone still on speaker resting on top of her pillow. “Whenever I look up at the sky, I will think about you.”

“Sappy,” he whispered, ignoring the aftershock her words caused.

She chuckled in response and yawned loudly. “Only for you, clean-freak.”

*

Friday after the last class ended Hanji gathered up her things quickly. It had been an incredibly long and tiring week. She couldn’t wait to spend some time with Levi on the roof, just talking about things that didn’t matter, things that were easy to speak of because they were still young and had years ahead to take them seriously.

She waited for Levi outside, leaning against the school building as he went to the bathroom. She busied herself with observing the exhausted students leaving the school borders, chattering between themselves. It was getting chilly and the black denim jacket she was wearing didn’t do a good job at protecting her. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater to her palms to at least cover her hands. She spotted Petra a few inches away from where she was standing. She was walking back and forth, fiddling with a piece of paper she held in her hands. Hanji found it a little strange but shrugged, deciding it wasn’t her business.

Finally, among the rain of students that walked through the school gate, Levi appeared. His face and some parts of his hair damp, indicating that he had just washed his face.

“Feeling refreshed enough?” Hanji asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” Levi murmured, and he looked around briefly.

“Come on,” Hanji pushed herself up from the wall. “Let’s go. We better grab something to eat on the way. I’m starving.”

She had taken only a few steps when she heard Levi calling out to her quietly. “Hanji.”

“Mm?”

He appeared to be uneasy as he looked at her, brows knitted, and lips pressed. Curiosity rose within her swiftly as she expected the words he was about to say.

“I can’t come to the roof with you today.”

Of all the things she thought about that was the least, she had expected to hear. Her stomach started to burn again, and she imagined a cauldron inside. Burning so fiercely and it never promised anything good. “Why?” Hanji asked, sounding just as surprised as she possibly looked.

Levi’s eyes moved to somewhere above her shoulder. She wanted to trace his stare but was too busy observing his expression, a little anxious, tense and what? Embarrassed? But why?

“Levi?”

“I… am going to the cinema,” he blurted eventually, his eyes finding her again. “With Petra.”

Cinema… with Petra?

“As a date?” She sounded bewildered again as if she couldn’t believe her ears. It wasn’t something to be that surprised about considering their age, hormones and everything. But it was Levi. Levi… It had always been the two of them, now imagining him spending time alone with someone else—she hadn’t prepared herself for that.

“I guess,” Levi rubbed his neck. Oh, he was shy about it too? Was he excited, was he looking forward to it? Was he going to hold her hand as he held hers? Did he even  like  her? When had this thing happened anyway?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He seemed guilty, and he should be too. They were best friends for a reason. If she wasn’t going to be the first one to know about his first  date, what was the point to it?

“It happened just this Wednesday. I couldn’t find a proper time—”

“This Wednesday?” She tried not to reflect her disappointment in her voice. “It was two days ago, mind you. You had plenty of time.”

“Hanji—”

“Did you ask her out?” Hanji went on, not giving him any chance to speak. “How long have you liked her?”

“It’s not—” He frowned, his jaw tightened, and a blaze came to life in his eyes. “She asked me.”

“Oh? How brave!” She felt like laughing and somewhere deep inside she knew that she was exaggerating, that she should be happy for him instead. Yet the disappointment was much heavier, and it stood out so blatantly, so arrogantly that it didn’t give her any time to think reasonably.  

“Hanji, don’t.” He stepped forward but she withdrew in an instant.

“Have a nice date,” she said, and she failed at hiding the sarcasm behind. And she thought she saw a flickering of hurt in his eyes but didn’t stay long enough to acknowledge it. With a final look she gave to a confused Petra, she walked out of school. And the cauldron bubbled, bubbled and it burned, and it hurt. Then Hanji wished it would turn the wildflower to ashes to its roots so that it wouldn’t spring again. Wishful thinking it was because the wildflower was already the reason why the flames come alive in the first place.

*

Hanji didn’t quite remember when or how but she was sitting on the swing on the park near Levi’s house, the park they had buried the dead bird all those years ago. Strange how the years passed. She felt old for some reason despite the fact that she was only sixteen and life hadn’t even started for her yet. But she yearned for that little girl now, playing snowball fight with a boy who drank a little too much tea and swore a little too much for their age. Then she cursed at herself for being so frail, for letting her emotions draw the road she would walk.

The streetlamp near the park had a weak light. It trembled from time to time, squeaking as if it was at death’s door. She pondered it was a good metaphor as to how she felt now. Exaggerating? Maybe. But Levi had become such a constant in her life, it felt like the time Jack had crashed her glasses. She remembered how blurry everything seemed and how dizzy she had felt.

“Hanji?”

She blinked and following the voice she lifted her eyes up from the ground. It was Erwin, standing in front of her, with a curious expression painted on his face. What was he doing here?

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Hanji shook her head, realizing that she had been blinking at Erwin absently. Then nodded, voicing a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

He sat down on the swing next to her, dropping his school bag on the ground. It was a funny sight. A boy of Erwin’s age and height sitting on a child swing. His legs were much too long for that, but he used them to move back and forth slowly.

“I was just passing by,” he said, shrugging. “What are you doing here alone? Where’s Levi?”

She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact that whenever someone saw one of them alone, they immediately wondered where the other was.  I am acting like a child.  Then she started to move back and forth herself, holding the chains on either side. “He is on a date,” she informed Erwin. “With Petra.”

Then the movements of her legs fastened to the point where she had to curl them so that they wouldn’t slow her down. She used her body against the wind, it ruffled her hair, and her hair blocked her vision. And she thought about Levi who was with Petra and Petra who was kind and pretty. Petra who had shiny hair which was always combed and tidy. Petra who was funny and nice and—

“Hanji!”

Ah, her vision was blurry. Had she dropped her glasses again?

“Hey, slow down!”

She couldn’t slow down but someone, Erwin, she remembered, made her. He was holding the sides of the swing, kneeling down in front of her, he looked into her eyes. Hanji noticed his eyes were a different kind of blue not so fierce like the winter ocean, but kind and worried at the moment. Yellow, thick eyebrows knitted, “Are you okay?” Erwin asked.

It was the second time he had asked the same question and it confused her a bit. Did she look that bad? “Yeah,” she confirmed. Her voice came out cracked.

Then Erwin reached out with his hand. Hanji waited silently as he wiped her cheek with his thumb and under her chin with his knuckles. His hand shone under the shrieking light of the streetlamp when he withdrew it, with tears, she realized with a startle. She lifted her hand then, her eyes wide and touched her damp cheek.

“I can walk you home if you’d like,” Erwin offered with a voice so gentle Hanji thought she hated it. Hated because she didn’t want pity when she was the one that had brought this upon herself.

She blinked at her wet fingers, her sight getting blurry again and used her other hand to adjust her glasses.  She could walk herself home, and she opened her mouth to say that much to Erwin. But words betrayed her half-way and what came out was, “I’d appreciate that,” instead, as she accepted, silently. “Thank you.”

[evilwickedme]

ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

[prettywarriors]

Ok ill bite whats the worst mg series

alright, whats the worst magical girl series in your opinion?

Thanks you two for letting me do some yelling. The obvious guess would likely be one of the recent edgelord shows right? Magical Girl Site or something similar? But nay I say, for while MGS and Day Break Illusion and such and what not generally tell you what to expect right away. Don't like super violence and suffering? Watch something else is the clear message from the get go. One of the bait and switch series then like Madoka or maybe Yuki Yuna? For what faults they may or may not have, at least these series do something and are interesting, even if you're not huge on what goes down in the series. A parody then? They range from affectionate to banned in New Zealand but regardless of quality and their feelings for MGs, it's a parody. It's a joke and shouldn't be taken seriously (plus they're usually short so you can just forget about them forever).

So what makes a series terrible then, I am sure you are asking. IMO? Setting expectations for an interesting and enjoyable series, and then dashing them to hell.

Come with me below the cut, as I talk about Key Princess Story: Kagihime Eternal Alice Rondo!

Spoilers abound so if you care about those for a 15 year old series, click away.

Background: Kagihime was a 4 volume manga that ran from 2004-2006 that was picked up for a 13 episode anime adaptation near the end of its run. The manga is created by a pair (Kaishaku) who you may know for making Magical Nyan Nyan Taruto. Kannazuki no Miko, and Steel Angel Kurumi, and the anime had a script written by the same writer (Mamiko Ikeda) for Tenshi Ni Narumon who also did some script writing for Princess Tutu and Seven of Seven. The anime also had 6 character music videos which are fairly simple but a nice addition to the series for the main girls. Discotek has been publishing the anime in the states in recent years, and the manga was brought over by *squints at book spine* Dr Master Publications.

The Premise: Girls transform and enter weird outside of reality spaces to fight each other with giant keys to take each other’s stories to create a third Alice In Wonderland story.

Well, an off-brand Alice story written by Alternate L. Takion, rather than Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson, that while the series uses all the aesthetic hallmarks of the tradition Alice, the little we see of the in universe Alice story is clearly different. Which is fine, at the end of the day, it’s still about someone who loves the Alice stories and wishes there was more, and even makes his own fanfiction version. His? Oh yeah, while the girls do all the fighting, the main character is Aruto, a teen boy who loves Alice, and for reasons we don’t know till late game, can enter the liminal spaces that the ‘Alice Users’ fight in. He chases a girl who looks like the Alice he sees in his story, who is named Arisu, and gets roped into this fanfic battle royale. He is also the older brother of the very needy Kirihara, who also ends up being and Alice User. As does Kirihara’s bff Kisa. To round out the group of enemies-turned-friends-who-will-work-together-to-collect-the-Eternal-Alice-without-having-to-fight-eachother group is a young genius researcher Kirika who wants to know more about Aruto’s connection that allows him to enter the spaces where the girls fight.

Then there’s all the other girls, some of whom still have real importance to the story and some who have a few panels or 2 scenes total. But with a whole bunch of girls to design, the creators reached out to a whole lot of other people to have them create designs! Eventually the battle gets down to the last few girls, there’s a confrontation with the guy running the whole thing, and while the anime and manga vary quite a bit the whole time, in both version Aruto ends up with Kirihara. Oh and Arisu was created by Aruto’s super imagination powers.  

The Promise: Here on is subjective, particularly with what I personally saw as potential from this series. because I need you to understand how much I want to like this series. 

~Alice in Wonderland themed: I know some people aren’t alice fans and that’s fine you do you but as a big alice fan this is great. We have a few alice episodes and themed characters amongst series like CCS and MGRP, and even Alice themes in other series like Tweeny Witches and Alice 19th. But damn it I am down for Alice series.

~Giant Keyyyyyyyys: Yeah yeah Kingdom Hearts but these keys are much more staff like for a lot of the characters which ads and air of elegance rather than the KH ones that for me at least feel well designed for big ol props rather than actual weapons. We also get...

~Weapon variety: It counts as a key if it’s a thorn whip that can be shaped like a key right? How about a giant pocket knife? Crossbows can also be keys. Hush. And we have this variety because

~Guest Artists: For magical girl series where we have a variety of outfits designed by different people, we have Kagihime, Uta~Kata, and uhh I guess Magia Record? But that’s a mobile game with a hella number of characters and with how mobile game works I wouldn’t count it just because it’s less the intent of the series to have variety and more the nature of having lots of girls. (Precure doesn’t count because unless I missed a memo each season’s set is still by one designer). If a series isn’t about a team and therefore doesn’t need cohesion, bringing in other artists is a great way for variety and new looks. 

~The long term goal: Fighting with other people who love the same piece of media you do in hopes of creating new material that will be viewed as official? That’s just fandom nowadays. But it’s a legitimate interesting concept, and opens up so many doors for a message for the series, be it ‘what you create is no less valuable than the canon work’ or ‘it’s hard to let go when something you love doesn’t have more to it but you can still love it for what it is’ or ‘bond with the people who like the thing you like ya idiot instead of fighting about it’. The concept is interesting and there are so many narrative ways you can take this.

~Gays: Between the anime and manga, we have at least 5 wlw. Is it a magical girl series without some gays? (side note- the manga had a short thing where the MC wears a girl’s uniform and is pretty comfortable in it and while there is no way this was the intent, between that and the emphasis on the stories that live in girls and how the fight zones have no men, I’m just saying, Trans girl Aruto.)

~Greater Fairy Tale Premise: We meet a Little Match Girl based MG who is obsessed with Andersen rather than the Alice books, and touch on a Sleeping Beauty character in the manga. The manga at least implies that classic stories and fairy tale authors uh. Live on in a liminal space as immortals with world warping powers within that world and there could be opportunities for other girls in the real world to fight for Little Mermaid 2: Electric Boogaloo.

The Good: Everything has positive points, no matter how bad it is.

~Character Designs: Some of those looks slap. As do most of their weapons. 

~Backgrounds: I have a strong opinion on backgrounds in anime that can be easily boiled down to old watercolor backgrounds good, modern filtered photos as background bad, and as a 2006 series, this might not be Memole nice but they’re quite attractive. 

~Splash Pages: Easily my favorite thing after the designs, each chapter’s title page for the manga just has a character standing in a setting. Which is not everyone’s thing I’m sure but it’s a nice simplistic way to let the characters breathe imo. Even if at least some of the settings were deffo traced. But that’s how backgrounds work to some extent? If I ever get to the Met again, I am tracking down this exact photo, but here is a likely candidate for an example.

~Different Versions: I do not understand the need to make an adaptation that tries to be a 1:1. Kagihime had the same ideas and characters and did some of the same beats but very much had a different finale story and a lot of changes in the middle (like the Alice cops in the manga). Again, not something everyone probably wants I’m sure, but I very appreciate this, especially since the Anime kept good pace with the number of Manga chapters (reading the manga again while watching the anime at 3.8x speed just now was very interesting to see the different interpretations of events in a different medium.)

The ‘Fine’: Yeah.

~Anime Visuals: Look 2006 was still early enough into digipaint that I will give it a total pass on these. The colors are too bright but in a very bland way, the lineart is nothing interesting, and the faces are. Iffy. But it’s not total garbage to look at (probably helped by backgrounds and character designs...) it just came out in an era where not enough people knew how to stylize things to account for the weakness of the tools of the time. (It was 4 years earlier but I feel Kagihime is the polar opposite of Chobits with its painfully bland color palette while still being just. Flat. Sorry for the drive by Chii.) 

~Music?: There sure were songs. Obviously, they are nothing to me.

The Bad: CW for.... somehow all the big things to an extent. 

~Fanservice: Look, I am fine with fanservice, especially for a series that’s, ya know, not targeted at kids, big Mai Hime fan here even if I would recommend skipping the panty thief episode. And honestly the series generally isn’t fanservicey, at least by the modern standards of having the camera choosing under the skirt rather than an over the shoulder shot like I’ve seen plenty in other shows. Even the sexier outfits like the rose whip dominatrix aren’t bad BUT. When the girls fight. One takes her phallic key and drives it into another girls chest between the boobs while the loser cries in pain and then her book comes out and when the victor rips out pages, the loser’s clothes also rip. It is very SuperS Amazon Trio assault metaphor-y. There’s also a bit of fanservice with the sister becauseeeee....

~Incest: If you read the premise up there, first wow good job because I’m sure not re-reading that, you might have noticed I said MC ends up with his sister. As someone who is a big mythology fan and watches plenty of anime, I have a decent tolerance for your obligatory ‘oh we’re siblings but actually cousins so our feelings are okay’ or whatever the fuck Citrus has going on I don’t know that series and I don’t vibe BUT. I have limits and boy did this series go beyond that because multiple episodes are dedicated to the sister being in love with the brother? And the brother returns her feelings but knows that they are wrong so he put everything he likes in his sister into his version of Alice who, of course, physically manifests as Arisu who he creates accidentally with his uh. Magic imagination powers. But again in both versions MC still ends up with his sister. Hey, at least the manga eventually said the boy was adopted when the sister was like, 3, so if nothing else no blood relations? The anime did not ad this. -_-

~Under Utilized Characters: Arisu’s gradual revelation that she has no childhood memories because she isn’t a real person is so interesting and they don’t do nothing with it but also? That’s the kind of thing I personally would love to dig into and Kagihime, while touching on this world shattering revelation, easily loops back to So Anyway She Should Fight For The Man and to hell with developing a life or personality outside of what has been written for her. The rest of the main 5 were 2 note characters which. Could be worse? The most interesting character ends up being the child genius who accidentally murdered her childhood bestie (and/or lover? depending on version) and her coming to terms with that (the friend is alive but the version changes how and why she thinks she’s dead). Then the villain has the motivation of ‘i lost my creativity and now have become an immortal living outside of normal space and am getting girls to fight each other because that’s like a story so I’m still relevant right?’. But shoutout to the anime for then taking death of the author literally. The numerous other girls are canon fodder outside of like. The manga version of the dead gf and the little match girl.

~Battle Royale: This is not a thing I have an issue with generally. Again, but Mai Hime fan, I need to read MGRP 11, BUT by not developing the non-main girls there is no emotional connection which makes them just canon fodder and that’s boring as sin for a royale system. The initial main character fights revolve so much around the MC guy being there that they fall flat, and the 2 or 3 final battles in both versions still feel without any stakes. Also for a royale thing most of the characters don’t actually die, which cool! Neat! Except when they do? Some nobodies and a somebody are murdered (at least in the manga) and the tone never feels like it’s supposed to be upping the stakes, it’s just. Some people are dead now. And do you want to guess which of the main characters died?

~Gays: Oh boy the best friend of the brother-complex sister is in love with her and (in the manga) dies. She does apparently get better for the last chapter but the death itself is only felt by the rest of the cast for a page or two before we go back to feeling sad big brother wants to kiss his mentally generated sister clone rather than his actual sister u_u. Bury your gays is nothing new, but I wonder if it was also intended to be justified because Guess Who Is Creepy and a bit Perverted? Oh look the lesbian keeps the used swimsuit of her beloved and manipulates events to get an indirect kiss and when she sees the sister trying to strange Arisu for a moment she decides to do it for the sister? It’s not good. You want bad gay rep in a magical girl series, well here ya go. We also had a nobody in the first(second?) episode whose story pages reveal her having a kiss with a girl, and then we also have the prodigy again and- in the manga- her. Uh. childhood lover who she thought she killed but the girl has been wiping her mind over and over so prodigy remembers ‘killing’ the friend and not the she’s alive so she can keep? fucking with her? Toxic!

~Sexual Content: But wait you say, you already covered fanservice! Ah but that is sexual content for titilation. This is sexual content for dramatic backstory! The red riding hood character was sexually assaulted, another character was manipulated into sex first as a teen and then more often to ‘get into the publishing industry’, and the same writer forces some aggressive kisses on the MC. None of it is gratuitous which is nice, but also, was it necessary? Not making a new point for this but read riding hood’s dog was also murdered so unnecessary animal death gets tossed on in there. 

~Male Lead: You can have a male, non magical character as the main character surrounded by magical girls. This is not how to do it. If I can make a vicious and hopefully not understood reference, Aruto is basically Tate from the Mai Hime Manga. If you understood that, I am so sorry. If you didn’t, congrats! Don’t read the manga. Or do and send me asks about the iconic final page of the first volume (18+). Anyway, this dude is boring, everything revolves around him, BUT I’ll be generous and say at least this isn’t a harem series? It looks like it out of context but it’s just a triangle with a fun attached scientist and token lesbian.

~Premise: They didn’t make good use of it. The initial goals of ‘take other girls pages from their soul books because if we get enough we unlock a third alice book’ is good! And then we add the twist that that was never going to happen and either if we get all the pages we can grant a wish, or these fights are just happening for the amusement of and asshole. Either way, yeah okay I guess. But at no point do we ever achieve this forbidden wish granting book and the asshole just. Lives. Nothing happens to him. His peers don’t even dunk on him. The only real changes from the beginning and the end of the series are: the siblings are now chill with dating, and the scientist lady won’t turn into a child in magical spaces. Oh. Yeah.

~Why did we make this adult a child sometimes?: I think we know why. Stop trying to get those types of folks to watch your already meh series. I also could have sworn at points in the past looking up images for this series I’ve seen extra art for Yuuri the Thumbelina-y Alice User that seemed like it would fit alongside anything by POP. You know, the Moetan guy. If you don’t know, god I wish that were me. 

Wrap Up: I have definitely forgotten some points and am well within my rights to ad to this whenever I remember more points but uh. Yeah.  

Listen you want an alice themed battle royale with nice outfits? Rozen maiden is right there. Battle Royale magical girl series that’s good with fanservice? Mai Hime. Series with different outfits while being based on a classic story? Pretear.

Hope anyone who read all of this at least got what I was saying, even if they don’t agree with it. And thanks for reading because whoops. 

[agerefandom]

system/REGRESS.Steven

Fandom: Steven Universe

Characters: Big sister Amethyst, regressor!Steven, Spinel, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire 

Words: 3,100

Summary: Slight AU of the Steven Universe Movie: What if the rejuevenator worked on Steven, sending him into a regressed state that he can’t get out of? Amethyst dodges the hit and becomes the one who has to bring everyone together. 

Warnings: Lots of swearing from Amethyst’s internal dialogue. Canon-typical violence. Involuntary regression. Conditioned subservience (rebooted Pearl). Mentions of diapers and accidents. 

This fight is a shitshow. The strange gem, who Amethyst has nicknamed ‘Pigtails,’ moves like no one she’s fought before. Pigtails’ form can warp to absorb their attacks and dodge their blows: Amethyst hasn’t even managed to uncoil her whip, she’s so busy running after their opponent as she bounces across the grass from one Crystal Gem to the next.

Pigtails lands a solid hit on Steven, sending him sprawling, and then her body begins to stretch. Amethyst runs after the stranger as she wraps herself around the lighthouse. She isn’t afraid of this weirdo, not as long as her friends are beside her.

“No!” Steven yells from behind them, and Amethyst realizes Pigtails’ plan the moment before she releases the tension in her body and ricochets back towards them, her scythe a blur of light as she spins it.

Thanks to Steven’s warning, Amethyst manages to dive out of the way. The others aren’t as lucky, and Amethyst hears herself cry out as Pearl and Garnet’s forms are dissolved, their gems dropping to the ground with a sound that Amethyst never wants to hear again.

That’s no standard weapon, if it took two Crystal Gems out in one hit. It must be older gem tech, from the war. Amethyst rolls to her feet, finally unfurling her whip, but Pigtails doesn’t even spare her a glance as she makes for Steven with the glowing scythe raised above her head.

Steven gets to his feet, summoning his shield and meeting the stranger halfway. Her weapon slices through Steven’s defense and passes right through Steven’s body. Lines of sparking energy start to cross Steven’s skin where the blade has touched him, and now Amethyst is sure that it’s gem tech. She’s seen Steven take hits like this before, made to dissolve gem’s corporeal forms.

“Who are you?” Steven yells, catching the gem’s arms as she tries another swipe. “Why are you doing this?”

“You should know!” screams the stranger, pulling free and bringing her blade up for a wild strike.

Seeing Pigtails unbalanced, Amethyst moves. Her whip wraps around the handle of the scythe and pulls it from the stranger’s hands. It spins through the air, a blur of crackling energy, and Amethyst manages to pull it from the air without touching the blade.

Pigtails spins around, her shifting pupils setting on Amethyst with absolute hatred. “You,” she hisses.

Amethyst runs forward, stolen weapon in one hand. Pigtails tenses and looks around for an escape, but Steven wraps his arms around her middle and holds her tight. Snarling, the gem stretches her arms towards Amethyst, but she manages to slide underneath the gloved hands and comes up swinging, the blade slicing neatly through Pigtails’ stomach above Steven’s arms.

The gem’s eyes widen, and her arms retract back to her sides. For a moment, she stares into Amethyst’s eyes, and then her form dissipates and the gem falls to the ground.

“Pearl! Garnet!” Steven calls, stepping over the pink gem and bolting for the place where they fell. Amethyst watches him run, the remaining lines of the weapon’s energy slowly fading from his arms. He’s limping slightly, one hand over his gem as he runs up the hill. He’s hurt.

After a moment of confusion, Amethyst finds a switch on the side of the scythe and sighs in relief when it folds back into itself and stops glowing. She tucks it into her gem for later and follows Steven up the hill to their discorporated friends.

Steven is holding Pearl when she reaches him, crying hard enough that his shoulders are shaking.

“Steven, it’s okay.” Amethyst puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “They’ve just been forced into their gems. They’ll be back soon. That thing was probably some kind of destabilizer.”

“Sorry.” Steven wipes his eyes. “I- I can’t stop crying. I don’t know why.” He makes a pained sound, and Amethyst watches him double over, Pearl toppling to the grass as both hands go to his stomach. A crackling pink energy expands from his gem and then recedes again.

“Steven!” Amethyst kneels down, and he falls against her. She catches him easily enough, peering over his shoulder to see what’s happening. The familiar lines of gem-tech are still coursing through his gem, fluctuating with crackling white light. Shit. This is bad: that isn’t what destabilizers usually do to Steven. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“M’sorry,” Steven sobs, curling into himself. “I can’t- I’m-” The words break into tears, the kind of wails that Amethyst only hears when Steven is regressing.

“It’s okay,” Amethyst says, in what she hopes is a soothing voice. “It’s okay, kiddo, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” Steven reaches out for her, and Amethyst tugs him into her lap, rubbing circles on his back. “You’re okay,” she repeats, trying to sound calm as her eyes scour the grass for Ruby and Sapphire. She sees both of them, whole and unharmed, and she relaxes slightly.

She hasn’t seen Steven regress on the battlefield: he usually manages to make it back to the beach house. But Steven hasn’t seen the other gems discorporated in a while. It makes sense that it was a trigger. Or maybe the ongoing pain from the scythe has an impact: Amethyst can still see the lines in his gem. Usually, pain prevents Steven from regressing, but maybe this is the opposite? Ugh, she wishes one of the others was here. She’s good at being a babysitter, but she thinks of herself as more of a playmate than a real caregiver. Big sister material. She’s good with the diapers and the feeding and all that, but she’s never been great at figuring out what Steven needs or wants when he’s like this.

“Okay, kiddo, can you sit here for me?” Amethyst asks, patting Steven’s shoulders. “I’ve got to get our friends.”

“Nnnn!” Steven wraps his hand in Amethyst’s shirt and pulls. It’s a feeble yank, but enough to let Amethyst know that she’s not going anywhere without a fuss.

“Alright,” she says grimly. “I can do this.”

Amethyst scoops Pearl up from the ground, ready to stick the gem in her waistband. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like Amethyst has any pockets. She can usually carry anything she needs in her gem, but it would be a horrible violation to stick Pearl in there.

Just as Amethyst shifts to put Pearl in a safe place, though, the gem starts glowing.

Back already? Amethyst obligingly places her gem on the grass, scooting backwards with Steven in her arms to give Pearl the space to reform.

Sure enough, her gem lifts into the air, and a shape takes form in the light… a shimmering oyster.

Huh. Amethyst blinks up at it. That’s weird.

“Please, identify yourself,” a voice says. It does and does not sound like Pearl.

“Amethyst?” says Amethyst, who isn’t entirely sure what else to do. Is this some new defense mechanism? She’s seen Pearl reform a dozen times, and it’s never been like this.

“Greetings, Amethyst,” says the voice. “Please state customization options.”

“I- what? Just be Pearl!” Amethyst says, keeping one arm around Steven. He’s stopped crying, at least, and is staring up at the glowing oyster with curious eyes.

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

What the fuck is happening?? Amethyst asks herself, unwilling to swear while Steven is regressed next to her.

The shimmering shape around Pearl’s gem drifts towards the ground, and glows brighter. Finally, a familiar body begins to emerge, and Amethyst relaxes.

“P’rl!” Steven babbles excitedly, clapping his hands.

The light solidifies, and Pearl steps onto the grass. She’s wearing a dress that Amethyst has never seen on her, knee-length and made with soft pink gauze. She glances around the hill before her eyes land on Amethyst, and widen.

Immediately, she drops to one knee, bending her head low enough that her hair nearly brushes the grass.

“My Amethyst,” she says. “Thank you for bringing me into the world. I am at your eternal service, as your new Pearl.”

There is a ringing silence.

“What the fuck, Pearl?” Amethyst manages, forgetting about the baby beside her for a moment. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“A joke, my Amethyst? I can tell one if you’d like,” Pearl says, bringing her eyes up to meet Amethyst’s. “I seek only to bring you pleasure.”

Right. Amethyst gets to her feet, pulling Steven up with her. Steven stumbles, clumsy in his regression, and Amethyst steadies him with an arm around his waist. “This isn’t funny, Pearl. Steven is hurt. Can you tell what’s wrong with him?”

“I can try,” Pearl says, and gets to her feet. She drifts over to Steven, her little slippers hardly touching the grass. Everything about her is unfamiliar, wrong. The way her hands are clasped in front of her, shoulders down, her eyes flickering to Amethyst and then back to the ground. It’s all a show of subservience, and it makes Amethyst’s skin crawl. This isn’t a joke. This is something else.

Pearl begins inspecting Steven, pulling up his shirt to peer at his gem and then running her hands over his arms. She seems curious, pressing her fingers into his shoulders and looking surprised at the feeling of his skin.

“What is this ‘Steven,’ my Amethyst? He seems to be partially organic.” Her face crinkles slightly as she looks at Steven’s tear-stained face. “And… leaking.” She produces a handkerchief from her gem and swiftly cleans Steven’s face, dropping the handkerchief to the ground with a dainty flick of the wrist. “There, that’s better.”

Okay, Amethyst thinks. It’s still Pearl, somehow.

“Don’t you remember Steven?” Amethyst asks, drawing closer to Pearl. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Remember?” Pearl echoes, sounding confused. “I have no memory, my Amethyst. You created me. I have extensive databanks on gem etiquette, of course, and a working understanding of the systems of economy, conquest, gem production, and anything else you may need me to assist in organizing.” She lifts Steven into the air and turns him over, checking him at all angles. “However, there is no ‘Steven’ in my databanks.”

“He’s half-human,” Amethyst sighs. “He needs a caregiver.”

“It that why you brought me into the world? To care for this ‘Steven’?” Pearl asks, putting Steven back on his feet. Steven is giggling a little from being spun around, clearly a bit dizzy.

“I… yeah.” Amethyst nods. “Take care of Steven. He needs a diaper, and a pacifier, and….” None of this will be in her databanks, she realizes. Shit. “Just keep an eye on him for now. He’s… fragile. Don’t let him run off a cliff or anything. Hold his hand.”

Pearl nods and immediately takes a firm hold of Steven’s left hand. “Yes, my Amethyst. I will ensure the Steven isn’t harmed.”

“That’s- good. Thanks, Pearl,” Amethyst manages. Now that Steven isn’t crying every time she runs off, she can make sure Ruby and Sapphire are safe.

The moment that she takes a step towards them, though, she sees Ruby rise into the air and reform. It’s always strange to see Ruby and Sapphire apart, especially after a discorporation of their fusion.

“Are you alright?” Amethyst asks, running up to hug Ruby. It’s weird to have her arms around a gem who’s shorter than her: even Steven is taller than Amethyst, these days.

“What are you doing??” Ruby shouts, squirming against Amethyst’s grip. Amethyst immediately lets go of her, stepping back.

“Sorry! I was just worried.” She rubs her hand on the back of her neck, embarrassed by her over-reaction. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby says, and then salutes. “Where’s my assignment?”

“Your… assignment? You mean Sapphire?” Shit, they’ve ALL lost their memories! Amethyst realizes. What the hell was that thing?

As if summoned by her name, Sapphire emerges from her gem with a soft sigh, shielding her eye against the light of the sun.

“Hey, Sapphire,” Amethyst says with a wave. “Do you remember anything?”

“I don’t,” says Sapphire serenely, and Amethyst’s chest aches. Sometimes it sucks to be right. “But I’m sure that you and I will be good friends.” She reaches out to touch Amethyst’s elbow, and Amethyst damn near starts tearing up. Okay. None of her friends remember her, but… at least Sapphire is friendly. Not that Pearl wasn’t friendly, but…. Yikes. That was a whole other kettle of fish.

“Yeah.” Amethyst pats Sapphire’s hand. “We will be. It’s good to see you.”

“My Sapphire!” Ruby salutes again, this time in Sapphire’s direction. “As my sworn duty and sole purpose, I promise to protect you with my life.”

“I know you will,” Sapphire says. “That’s why I predict you won’t last more than a day.”

“Huh?” Ruby tilts her head to one side.

“What?” Amethyst echoes.

“My Amethyst!” Pearl’s voice echoes. “I’ve found another gem!”

“Oh, shit!” Amethyst takes off running. She forgot to bubble the enemy gem once she’d been discorporated! How could she be so stupid? Her eyes find Pearl and Steven, with Pearl still firmly holding Steven’s hand. In Steven’s other hand is the heart-shaped gem of the stranger.

“Steven! Drop that!” Amethyst yells.

Steven’s eyes go wide and he drops the gem onto the grass. It’s too late, Amethyst can see it starting to glow.

“Get him away from here, Pearl! Go stand with the others,” she commands, trying not to feel like she’s taking advantage of Pearl’s… bonding or whatever the hell happened. Pearl scoops Steven into her arms and runs off to Ruby and Sapphire with admirable speed.

Sure enough, the gem rises into the air and begins to form. It slowly rotates, as if it can’t decide which way to form, but eventually settles point-down. Wasn’t that different from before?

Two arms stretch out of the glow and over Amethyst’s head. She pulls out her whip, grimacing but determined to protect the others as much as she can. Already, she knows it’s hopeless. The gem isn’t even fully formed and she’s already arcing over Amethyst’s head towards the others.

“Look out!” Amethyst yells, and the strange gem latches onto Steven with a distinctly squeaky noise.

“I’m so excited to meet you!” the gem shrieks happily, wrapping her arms around Steven several times.

“A Spinel!” Pearl gasps. “Aren’t you the lucky one, Steven?”

“Sp’nel?” Steven repeats, poking one of the hands that’s latched onto his shoulder. It makes a squeaking sound again, and Steven giggles.

“That’s me!” Suddenly, Spinel is moving again, spinning in front of the group with a wide smile. She looks different, Amethyst realizes. Her hair, her gem, even her eyes are different. “I’m your new best friend!”

“Fwend!!!” Steven babbles, reaching out for her. Spinel immediately goes to his side, booping his nose and then petting his hair with a wide-eyed curiosity.

“You’re so soft!” Spinel says approvingly. “I love it!” She hooks her arm into Steven’s, since his other hand is still held by Pearl, as instructed. She glances around at the other gems. “Hi, everyone! Is this a party or what?”

“What the hell is going on?” Amethyst wonders out loud. Spinel must have also lost her memory, so obviously it was a function of the gem tech scythe she’d brought. Speaking of gem tech…. She turns her eyes back to the spaceship Spinel had arrived on. There are bubbles rising in the bubblegum-coloured liquid, the drill churning as it pumps it into the earth. That’s probably not good.

“Do you wanna go play?” she hears Spinel asking the others.

“Steven is very fragile,” Pearl says. “He needs to hold my hand.”

Okay. Amethyst puts one hand on her chin and tries to think. No memories, no friends, one big weird spacething.

Her eyes drift to Little Homeworld on the horizon. Oh, duh! Bismuth might be able to identify this gem weapon, that’s her specialty. And Peridot can probably figure out the controls of this spaceship.

“Okay, guys!” Amethyst says, turning back to them. Ruby is standing in front of Sapphire, eyeing the other gems suspiciously, but the rest of them turn their attention to Amethyst when she speaks. She walks towards them, tucking her whip away. Spinel doesn’t seem to be violent, although she is currently clinging to Steven like a backpack or an affectionate barnacle. Both of them are grinning. “We’re going to take a trip on the warp. Everybody, follow me! Pearl, can I take Steven?”

“Of course, my Amethyst.” Pearl deftly untangles Spinel’s arms from Steven, ignoring her indignant “hey!”. She carries Steven over, her hands under his arms like she’s carrying a misbehaving cat. Steven looks happy enough to be carried, kicking his legs in the air. Amethyst is too short to carry Steven, so she just takes his hand when Pearl deposits him beside her. She can already tell that he needs a change. Poor boy, it’s been a long day. She’s surprised he isn’t more confused by everything going on, but he must be pretty heavily regressed.

I wonder if it’s related to the rest of them losing their memories? she wonders suddenly, and feels stupid for not realizing it before. Steven never regresses when he’s in the field, why didn’t it occur to her earlier? This must be part of the damage this weird weapon did to him when he was hit.

“Come on guys,” she repeats. Pearl is already beside her, arms behind her back, but the other three haven’t moved, Spinel pouting on the grass where Pearl had left her.

“We’re not goin anywhere with you!” Ruby growls from her position in front of Sapphire.

“We will follow them to the warp,” Sapphire corrects, resting one hand on Ruby’s shoulder. Ruby straightens, her face reddening as she stares at the point of contact between them.

“Uh. Yeah! We’ll follow you to the warp!” she shouts, and starts stomping in their direction, her eyes flickering back to Sapphire to make sure she’s following.

Amethyst feels a smile tug at her lips. Those two haven’t really changed all that much. Spinel runs up and grabs Steven’s other hand, wide eyes blinking up at Amethyst.

“Where are we going? Is there a slide there? Are we gonna play a game?”

Steven nods at Spinel’s questions, his eyes getting bigger and more excited.

“We’re going to meet some friends,” Amethyst explains, and starts leading the group down the hill towards the beach house. This is a weird day, and she seems to have two kids to take care of, but they’re all here. And they can figure this out. Amethyst believes in her friends.

[yoonsshadow]

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it’s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

[panharmonium]

why are you being like this?

people i’ve met - they’re not like you.  they don’t care.  i don’t matter.

don’t ever think that.  we all matter.

just some meandering thoughts on where the thematic center of merlin bbc lies for me, and how it weaves itself in and out of my fandom experience.

under a cut because this is a) sort of long and b) not really directed anywhere but my own brain, as i keep thinking about and creating for this show.

[as always, before i get rolling, a reminder: when i write about how i engage with this show, it’s just me talking about what gives me, personally, the most satisfaction or enjoyment, not the way i think everybody should do things.  if this isn’t your particular read, please feel free to scroll past.  i am not ever going to bother anybody for engaging with this show in their own way, so please don’t worry about it if we are not on the same page.]

that post about kilgharrah really got me feeling things.  

i struggle a lot with the sort of...non-nuanced ‘fuck kilgharrah/fuck gaius/fuck arthur/fuck whoever’ mode of engagement that i sometimes run across in fandom.  (and i’m not saying there’s anything intrinsically wrong with it; if you have the most fun engaging with the show in that way, please continue to have fun.  i’m just writing, on my own blog and in my own space, about what i personally do or don’t find compelling.)

i struggle with this mode for the same reason that i struggle with the whole ‘fuck yoda!’ narrative that pops up sometimes in tumblr’s star wars fandom.  because it’s not the narrative that the story is actually trying to create, and though this fact doesn’t mean you can’t twist things that way if it gives you more enjoyment, for me, there’s nothing about it that feels good.

writing fictional characters off like this, when the narrative is clearly not asking us to do so, feels...frustratingly false, and externally-imposed, as if characters are being evaluated based on the exacting standards of a universe in which they never lived, in a context where they were never intended to exist.  doing so requires you to willfully ignore what the story is actually trying to say, and it’s fine to go ahead and do that if you want, but for me it strips away so much of what makes the story meaningful.

bbc merlin’s core plotline is about believing in someone’s better nature.  the central storyline is that merlin commits himself to someone who doesn’t always give merlin reason to believe that this commitment is worth it, and yet still there’s always this hope and faith and belief that one day arthur will make it right.  

and this is presented as a worthy choice.  are there problems with it?  of course.  the show knows that, and it gives us places to think about that.  but even with this being the case, the ultimate message of the show is still never that this commitment was useless, worthless, or foolish.  the message of the show is that under the right conditions, people grow.  this show says that when we are given deep love, care, and companionship, we can change for the better.  it says that people, under the right conditions, can learn how to be better than they were before, and that everyone deserves the opportunity to grow into the person they were meant to be.

bbc merlin is not asking us to cancel any of its characters, ever.  that is never the show’s intention.  i won’t try to stop anybody from doing that, if that’s how they have more fun watching the show, but i am still going to contemplate, in my own space, how small that makes the story feel for me.

sometimes i see things like ...‘morgana/gwen/whoever is the only valid character in merlin bbc,’ and i just...first of all, neither of them are perfect, okay, and second of all, it doesn’t MATTER, because that has never been the point of the story.  this story is not asking us to rank characters on a scale of how righteous/unproblematic we think they are.  it’s asking us to CARE about the characters - ALL of the characters - and to root for them (yes, ALL of them), in the fullness of their imperfection.

when i explore the wider fandom, i typically bump up against one of two mindsets.  there’s the shipping mindset, where everybody loves arthur and he’s helplessly in love with merlin.  but i don’t want that mindset (because i don’t ship that pairing), so i look elsewhere.  but the other mindset is an attitude that dislikes arthur, full stop.  and i don’t want that either!

this ‘either/or’ divide is the opposite of what bbc merlin is asking us to do with its characters.  i criticize arthur all the time, but i still don’t think the story is asking me to reject him.  and i don’t WANT to reject him, either - why would i even watch this show, if i didn’t think it was important to see him become who he was meant to be, if i weren’t invested in his growth, if i didn’t ultimately believe in his possibility?  if i didn’t think the show was asking me to root for him - not uncritically, of course; the show is never asking me to do that - but with the core understanding that arthur is somebody worth caring about?

the same goes for morgana.  the show never asks us to write her off.  up until the very end, the show wants us to care about her.  the show wants us to root for her.  the show never asks us to forget that she and the other characters used to love each other; it never tells us to stop wanting morgana to get what she needs.  

gaius, too - the show never wants us to kick him to the curb.  it knows he’s not perfect.  he knows he’s not perfect.  he tells merlin, when talking about his own life, “there has, for the most part, been very little purpose to it.”  but the show doesn’t want us to fixate solely on his failures, or to dump him for his more cowardly moments.  the show wants us to know that he still has value.  it wants us to know that he is doing more good in the world now than he did before, which is all we can ask of a person, in the end.  it wants us to know that he cares, and that he is trying.

and kilgharrah - the show is never asking us to hate him, either!  yes, i get that it’s funny to joke about how “unhelpful” he is; i think that stuff is funny, too - but i also think it matters to understand that in canon, in the show, we are not meant to read kilgharrah as a malevolent figure.  we are not supposed to read him as a villain.  we are supposed to care about him.  we are supposed to understand that he, too, is working, ultimately, for the triumph of Good.  even though his version of this may feel convoluted to us, because kilgharrah isn’t human and can’t possibly be evaluated by human standards, we are supposed to understand that he, too, is trying.  we are supposed to be moved when merlin asks him, “what will i do without you?”

we are supposed to care about all of them.  we are supposed to find all of them worthy.  we are not supposed to evaluate them (and then discard them) according to inflexible, merciless, decontextualized standards imported from a non-merlin-bbc world.

and this doesn’t mean people aren’t still allowed to do that, if it’s fun for them, but for me, analyzing this show outside of its context doesn’t bring me any satisfaction.  we can go ahead and say things like ‘arthur should get his head chopped off’ and like, okay, that’s funny as a joke.  but as an actual analysis of the show - as a sincere interpretation of the story - it fails.  it’s devoid of all context.  we aren’t supposed to be evaluating this story from the perspective of ‘let’s overthrow the monarchy, kings should die, etc etc.’  the context of merlin bbc is that albion is waiting for a righteous monarch, and that this is a desirable, acceptable, correct thing, in the context of that world.  we are supposed to understand that arthur IS the once and future king, and that this IS a good thing, in this universe, and that the journey we are on here is one where he becomes worthy of his seat on the throne and then ushers in a time of peace and justice for all of albion’s people.

(and as i’ve said before - this is why the merlin bbc finale is so stunningly bad.  it’s not that the show subverts our expectations, it’s that it annihilates its own story, which it has been consistently telling for sixty-three episodes.)

that aside, though - this same overlooking of contextual nuance is the reason why i don’t connect to takes that consider ‘oh no, merlin kills people!’ to be evidence that he’s “changed,” “gone dark,” or “lost his soul.”  merlin does go through a dramatic (and tragic) change by the time we hit season 5, but what happens to him has nothing to do with the fact that he’s killed people.  the context of this show isn’t one where killing is a universal evil.  killing in battle or for the purpose of self-defense is not a morally problematic choice, in this world.  merlin, like everyone else in this show’s context, understands this, and killing a group of enemy soldiers to protect his own life is not something the show intends for us to interpret as an erosion of his humanity. 

what IS framed as an evil act, in the context of merlin bbc, is when someone chooses to kill despite the fact that mercy is an option.  if arthur had killed odin when he could have instead made peace with him, if arthur had executed annis’s champion or vivian’s father when he had already defeated them in single combat, if merlin had killed kilgharrah whilst having absolute power over him - those are morally bankrupt choices, in merlin bbc’s context.

we’re not supposed to see things like merlin killing agravaine as evil decisions.  in the context of the show’s world, killing agravaine is a necessary, morally uncomplicated act.  it isn’t something merlin wants to do, certainly, and he tries to avoid it, and he doesn’t strike back until agravaine tries to kill him first, but ultimately this moment is not supposed to be illustrative of merlin turning down a dark path.  it’s grim, sure, but in the context of the show - in the context of the era - it’s nothing more than the justified wages of aggression.  agravaine brings this fate down upon his own head.  merlin is not a pacifist, and neither he nor anyone else would expect himself to just stand there and let a group of enemy soldiers murder him when he could instead kill the soldiers and get away.  that’s nonsensical and utterly decontextualized.  it’s not an expectation that anyone in-story would have, nor a standard that merlin (or anyone else) would hold himself to.

all that aside, though -

the issue, for me, in summary, is just that i think sometimes we...evaluate this show in ways that it really isn’t meant to be interpreted, without considering the story’s context or thinking about what the story’s actual intent is.  and i think that these decontextualized interpretations are often less generous than what the show is actually trying to say to us, and that sometimes we write characters off when the show absolutely is not asking us to do that.  

and of course, nobody has to listen to what the show is trying to say if they don’t want to.  if it brings someone more enjoyment to pick one character to stan and say ‘the rest of these characters are Bad People and i’m not interested in them,’ then that’s fine!  whatever floats your boat.  

it just doesn’t float mine.

the point of this show, for me, is that everybody deserves a chance.  the point of this show is exactly what merlin says to daegal in the woods, even as daegal is leading merlin into a trap: we all matter.  the theme at the heart of this story is that it is possible to love someone who doesn’t deserve it, and that this can be a worthy choice, a transformative choice, a powerful choice - not necessarily a perfect choice, or even the right choice, maybe, for the person making it, but still a choice that holds value, a choice that creates something good in this world, even at cost.

listen to me, clotpole.  i don't care if you die, there are plenty of other princes.  you're not the only pompous, supercilious, condescending, royal imbecile i could work for; the world is full of them.  but I'm going to give you one more chance.

should merlin have done that?

we can debate that forever.  i am critical enough of arthur pendragon myself, when it comes to merlin’s well-being, and i could easily argue that no, merlin shouldn’t have given arthur as many chances as he did; he shouldn’t have stuck around; he shouldn’t have offered so much of his life to someone who continued to make arthur’s kind of mistakes.

but i think it matters to remember that in canon, thematically, the story’s answer to this question is yes.  mercy, in this story, is the most noble gift a person can bestow on someone else, and i think we are asked to bestow this same kind of mercy on the show’s characters, heroes and villains alike.  we aren’t ever told, in this show, that some of these characters “weren’t good enough” to deserve their chances.  we are told that in this world, compassion is always worthwhile.  love is never wasteful.  it is never foolish to care for people, even and especially when they aren’t yet their best selves.  giving someone a chance does matter.  choosing to care does make a difference, in the end.  

people don’t have to import these themes into their own personal analysis, by any means.  but i am still committed to remembering, in my own work, in my own space, that when we raise the question “was it worth it” in reference to whether these characters truly deserved to be loved, or trusted, or given a chance to grow - the story’s answer is unequivocally yes.

[pluto-art]

Syncytium - Chapter 1

Title: Syncytium Words: 3,311 Rating: T Summary: Teacher AU. Takes place in a fictional universe in which Professor Ronald Pinkus and Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter (played by Pinky and Brain, respectively) are college professors at an esteemed school for mice that focuses on science and the arts. Mainly told from Brain's point of view; sometimes from Pinky's. He's too egotistical for his own good. Pinky is too happy-go-lucky for his own good. The two clash. High jinks ensue. Dr. Globetrotter gets more than he bargained for. Way more than he bargained for...

Fan fiction link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/1/Syncytium

This was 100% inspired by the drawings I did of Brain and Pinky as professors. It’s planned to be a multi-chapter story, and I already have the major points of the entire story outlined. Here be chapter one. Enjoy.

Syncytium - n. a single cell or cytoplasmic mass containing several nuclei, formed by fusion of cells or by division of nuclei.

\/\/\/\/\/\/

January 17, 1994 - 4:35 AM

Darkness.

All around them was dark, it's impenetrable cloak cut only by the crimson beat of the emergency lights.

No one could see them. No one could hear them. No one even knew they were there. But if they could see them, by way of those steady emergency flashes, they'd make out an aging mouse struggling to carry his blue-eyed comrade to safety, light reflecting off his broken glasses. And if they could hear them, all they'd pick up, aside from a distant alarm, would be a heavy, breathless panting.

Brian paused in his efforts to set down the taller, much lankier mouse on the concrete below, an arm coming 'round to support his friend's head. Heavy lids threatened to close their curtains on a pair of periwinkle eyes, their owner barely managing to stay awake.

"Pinky... Pinky, wake up!"

Nothing.

"Pinky!"

He tapped his cheek sharply.

Slowly, surely, the other mouse awakened.

"Brain...?"

"Yes, Pinky. I'm here. I'm here."

"Brain...," Pinky whispered, a paw coming up to grasp his arm tightly before his head fell back into Brain's palm.

"It's all right," cooed Brian. "It's all right, Pinky. I've got you. Shhh. Shhh. I've got you. Shhhhhh shhh shhh shhh..."

\/\/\/\/\/\/

September 10th, 1993 - 7:30 AM

Darkness.

"Sh sh sh! Quiet! Everyone calm down! Quiet!"

A pencil sharpened. A ruler placed just so on a dated, mahogany table. Half-moon violet glasses were pushed square up against a pair of pink, deadpan eyes by a delicate, nail-bitten finger.

"Good evening, class," droned Dr. Brian T. Globetrotter. "Today we shall be delving into the fascinating subject of cellular mitosis..."

Sunlight, warm and bright and quite the opposite of the teacher it poured the morning's blessing onto, shone through the dark, wooden blinds of the university classroom, the better to illuminate the scene. Rows and rows of mahogany benches, arranged in a stadium format, and each with a polished table set in front of it, could barely be seen thanks to the sheer number of students adorning every bit of space available. It wasn't cramped, per say, but it was filled. Not a seat was left, and not for reason of enthusiasm. The countenance of those in attendance told all: no one was here because they wanted to be, but because they needed to be. Required classes were always the least interesting, and the occasional passed note or whispered joke barely managed to keep the atmosphere animated, provided one was even able to communicate such messages without getting caught. It was common knowledge that this particular professor had no room for flippancy. Detentions were a standard affair. Not being spoken to or called upon was considered a kindness.

Said teacher continued his sunrise spiel, seemingly oblivious to the complete lack of interest permeating the room as he droned on and on about the fascinating life of the cell.

Fascinating, indeed. If he at all harbored any excitement about the subject his profile certainly failed to project it, his demure expression reflected on the faces of practically every student in the room. Only one outlier remained: a golden-furred girl mouse, glasses a little askew, cheek resting against her paw as she sighed dreamily. An equally amber-tinted mouse beside her rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"The intricacies of such a seemingly primitive topic are much more complex and absorbing than might first be assumed, and although I don't expect any of you to give a Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch about an ounce of it, we are henceforth going to engage in the undoubtedly invaluable study regardless."

Somewhere in the back, a student scribbled "Heterocephalus Glaber's crotch" on a page of his journal labeled "The Globular List of Insults", sniggering to his freckled companion.

"Please turn your attention to page seventy-five of your textbooks. We will begin with the genesis of the process, in which a single cell divides into..."

But whatever that cell was going to divide into had to be put on hold, for at that moment the classroom door flung open to reveal a completely new fascination entirely.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Judson!" blurted out the newcomer, one foot in the door and the other still sticking outside the classroom, a loaded box of paraphernalia nestled precariously in his arms. "I'll never forget this! I promise to pay you back with a whoooooole bouquet of flowers! Nya-ha-ha-ha!"

In he tumbled, paraphernalia and all, right onto Brian T. Globetrotter's desk, knocking an ink pen, two calculators, and his name sign off the table in the process.

"Whoops! Eheh. Sorry! I'll get that for you!" offered the mouse, hastening to clean up his mess, albeit rather haphazardly.

"Wha-... What are you doing here?! I am in the middle of a very important session!" growled Globetrotter.

"Oh, yes, and I'm sure it's a very lovely session, too! But... if you don't mind my asking...," and he got right up to the other's ear and whispered: "Isn't this, ummm, my room?"

"Wha-? Puh... It most certainly is not! This is my classroom and you're intruding!" Globetrotter spluttered, poking a finger into the newcomer's chest for greater emphasis.

Three rows up, a student typed furiously on his phone: New teacher about to get ROASTED by Mr. B.

"Well, how do you figure that one?" the other mouse questioned.

"Maybe you should read the fine print?!"

And with the starkest finality he could muster, he picked up his name sign and slammed it down in front of the other mouse, turning it so that the name BRIAN T. GLOBETROTTER on the front flashed out proud as anything. The new teacher didn't seem at all perturbed by such harsh behavior. Indeed, he put his face right up to the sign, tipped down his own pair of half-moon glasses, and carefully read each word, muttering them to himself softly.

"Oh! Well, that's different then, isn't it?" he declared, straightening up to smile brightly at his fellow colleague. "But, umm, you might want to change the name there, don't you think? I mean, it says "globe trotter", but I don't see you trotting around any globes. No. Not at all. More like globe sitter. Ha-ha-ha!"

Globetrotter stared at the newcomer, mouth agape. It was all he could do at the moment, taken aback by the sheer audacity of this... figure and the pure chaos he had caused. Half the room was already in hysterics, for his buck-toothed make and slight slur, coupled with a lightly pronounced Cockney accent, made his proclamation of "sitter" sound like a different word entirely.

Everything about this mouse was... off. Compared to Globetrotter he was exceptionally tall and lanky, all the more exacerbated by the fact that Brian was quite a short mouse to begin with; he had to crane his neck to look up at him. His laugh was prominent, and his eyes were an astonishing robin's egg blue. Never in his lifetime had Globetrotter ever seen a mouse with eyes that color; he hazarded to guess they were contacts. He wore a lab coat, but only out of necessity, it seemed, for it clashed with the rest of his outfit: a pink polo-style shirt with some band's logo slapped on the front, striped corduroy pants that sported every color of the rainbow, and what looked to be black and white bowling shoes. It was as if a Goofy cartoon had vomited all over him. The heavy cardboard box he'd unceremoniously deposited on Globetrotter's table seemed to carry all assortment of bits and bobs - a globe, several petri dishes, a bag of chips, a baseball cap, some notepads and pens, a small keyboard, a roll of Gouda, some tape, a framed photograph, a book on Regis Philbin, two VHS tapes of The Honeymooners, and not one... but three Bunsen Burners, as if he had packed them in a feeble attempt to complete the look of someone who was supposedly intelligent. Every eye in the room had turned towards him as he entered, and every eye had stayed on him since. Golden-haired girl had actually dropped her pencil, grabbed her brother by the shirt sleeve, and clutched at her heart, a light whisper of, "Oh my gosh, he's hot...," fluttering past her lips. Her brother facepalmed. To complete the effect, he carried under his arm a pad hosting a number of rather childish stickers, which Globetrotter grabbed from him.

"Shut up!" he snapped at his students, who were still chuckling. They all quieted down at once. "Dr. Ronald Pinkus, Professor of Trozology," Globetrotter read aloud, disgust painting every syllable. "What in the bloody hell is 'Trozology'?"

"Oh, well, it's very simple, really. It's-," Ronald began, but at that moment, a wee mouse popped in, her eyes nearly covered by a pudgy blue tam o' shanter.

"Excuse me? Mr. Pinkus?" she squeaked, thick Scottish accent nearly muffled by the gray scarf swathed about her.

"Please, call me Pinky!" Ronald squeaked back.

The girl smiled and giggled.

"Pinky. Mrs. Judson told me to tell you that you're actually in two ten, not three nineteen."

"Hm? Ohhhhhh!" the one named Pinky exclaimed, peeking at the front of Globetrotter's classroom door. A giant number '319' was painted on its front. "That does explain things, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Now, would you kindly disencumber my desk and plant your quixotic accoutrements elsewhere?" Globetrotter fronted, already pushing Pinky's possessions towards him, and would have thrust it clear off the desk had it not been for Pinky's quick reflexes. He grabbed his loaded box, that ridiculous grin still plastered on his face.

"Thank you, Mr. Brain! And thank you, Ms... errrr...?"

"Flaversham. Olivia Flaversham," piped the girl, beaming from head to toe.

"Thank you, Olivia!"

And he waved at her, as best he could anyway, nearly losing the box as Olivia waved back and skipped off. Shifting his grip so as to take better hold of his possessions, Pinky turned to Globetrotter, panting a little.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for barging in on your class, Mr. Brain. It won't happen again!"

"It's Brian. And see to it that you don't," retorted Globetrotter, flicking stray dust off his precious desk. "You may leave at your earliest convenience, which I hope will be immediately."

"Right-o, Brain!" Pinky saluted, and with that... he trotted off, slipping a little under the weight of the box, and doing his best to close the door behind him with his long, pink tail.

For five whole seconds Globetrotter stared at the closed door, as if attempting to retrieve what little bearings he had left. Despite the poisonous nature of their teacher, many of the students couldn't help but exchange excited mutters, babbling in haste about what had just transpired. Already, Globetrotter, with his exceptional hearing, could catch such questions as, "Did you see how many burners he had?", "Do you think he's single?", and, worst of all, "Is his class full?".

In a rare move, no one was punished for such comments. If anything, for the rest of the class, Globetrotter aimed to be a bit more... amiable than usual, which only fueled the chatter. The session was a long one - three hours, to be exact - and it was with great relief that the bell rang, for if there was anything more "exciting" than cellular mitosis, it was gossip.

"Homework is due on the twenty-first. I want a count of three-thousand words at least and no exceptions!" Globetrotter rattled as the entire class practically flew out of the room in a flurry.

Many paired up with friends; some hitched up their bags and backpacks, running in haste to their next class. Three of the girls, two mice and a shrew, banded together, all a-flutter.

"Oh. My gosh. Did you see that guy? Ugh. My heart is still beating a mile a minute," one of them crooned. It was the golden-furred gal, whiskers shining as she licked her fingers and smoothed them out one-by-one.

"Gosh, Maisy, you're so superficial. One minute it's Globetrotter. Now it's this Pinky guy," mused a mouse to her left, a pair of goggles resting atop her blonde hair. "You need to pick a side."

"I am! I'm picking the cuter of the two," Maisy stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"He looked like Pee-wee Herman walked into Dexter's Lab or something..."

"Dexter's Lab is more fun," voiced Tillie the shrew, who adjusted the tightness of the little cloth draped over her head. "What did Globetrotter mean by giving us only five pages of homework? Usually it's at least ten..."

"I have a theory for that," said the goggle-adorned mouse, biting her fingernails.

"Would you stop doing that?" Maisy bit, slapping at the other mouse's wrist playfully. "It's so gross."

"What? They get gnarly. You know I don't wear gloves when I work."

"You should."

Goggle-mouse sighed.

"Anyway, you wanna hear my theory?"

"I do," piped the shrew.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead," droned Maisy, not at all enthused.

"Okay. So... my theory is that he's jealous. He doesn't want this Pinky guy to suddenly snatch up all his students, so he's trying to be extra nice to us to get us to stay."

Maisy snorted at this.

"As if we could leave. It's a required class."

"Yeah, but we could always drop it and take it next semester at a different time with a different teacher."

"But why would anybody go through the trouble of that?" said Tillie. "We'd all rather get it over with sooner than later."

"Exactly," "Goggles" said as they turned a corner, heading for the cafeteria. "Anyway, I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Maisy asked.

"It's Wednesday. I have Engineering on Wednesdays. Duh. Bye, guys!"

And off she went.

"Bye, Gadget!" Maisy waved, then said, under her breath, "She's so weird."

"Yeah, but we love her," Tillie said.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Maisy, as they walked into the cafeteria together.

Running past them went little tammie-headed girl. She practically flew past the throng of students milling in and trudging down the hallways, deftly weaving in and out of them like a snake in the grass. It was a wonder she didn't bump into anyone even once.

Down the maze of hallways she flew, finally stopping at a dividing lane to peer down a path at a familiar figure.

"Mr. Pinky!" she called out, desperately trying to catch her breath as she sprinted up to him.

Pinky smiled down at her, one paw resting on a handle on a door labeled 'Professor Ronald Pinkus, PhD Trozology, 210", his other arm still balancing the heavy box.

"I forgot to give you this!" Olivia panted, stretching out a sweaty hand to proffer him a little white note.

He took it, not without some difficulty, and tucked it into his box.

"Thank you, Olivia! Here..."

And he extracted from the box the bag of chips and handed it to her. She took it, puzzled.

"Tuppence for your trouble," he said, winking at her.

"Thank you, Sir! Good-bye!" Olivia waved, practically glowing as she ran back down the hallway, ripping open the bag and popping a chip in her mouth in the process.

Grinning sweetly, Dr. Ronald Pinkus opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark, and it took a moment for him to find the light. When he finally flipped a switch, it revealed to him his new abode. It wasn't the most spacious area. In fact, as compared to Dr. Brain's (or... was it Brian's?) classroom this one was visibly a tad more... cramped. Only twenty seats lay stacked in a corner, their blue paint a little chipped and their legs a mite bent. They looked more like middle-school chairs than the nicer seats found throughout most of the school. The light was dim - perhaps a little too much so. He'd need to fix that. There was a fairly solid-looking desk, at least, as well as a small waste bin, some pencils, a large chalkboard behind the desk, and one of those roll-around televisions in another corner. By all accounts, this room was trash as compared to the rest of the university, but where anyone else would have turned their nose up at it... Pinky beamed.

Setting his box down upon the desk, he hung his lab attire up on a nearby coat hanger and inhaled, breathing in the smell of old glue, old chalk, and a very slight tinge of old bubblegum. The glue smell tickled his nose and he giggled. He rather liked that scent. It reminded him of something. Something sweet...

Quietly, he relieved the poor box of its contents, placing everything in the best places he figured they should go, and set the empty box down in a corner.

"There you go, old box. Sorry for all the trouble!" he apologized. The box said nothing.

He turned back to his desk, smiling at a job well done. The three Bunsen Burners stood proudly on one corner of the desk, looking very professional indeed. The notepads and pens looked quite nice on the desk, along with the roll of tape, and there was even a little shelf under the roll-away tv that he was able to put his Honeymooners tapes on! It was perfect. Well, almost.

From his lab coat, he pulled out a handkerchief, which he carried with him to an empty bathroom across the hall. Wetting it and wringing it out, he stepped back into his classroom, shut the door behind him, and carefully, gently, wiped down the picture frame, a smile kissing his lips as he did so. Four little figures beamed up at him: two older mice, himself as a child, and, curiously, a spool of thread, which he was hugging in the photo. Having cleaned the little glass and frame, Pinky brought it up to his face... and kissed it... before setting it back down on his desk, right there in front, where he could always look at it.

There was only one thing left to attend to: the note that Olivia had given him. He picked it up from the desk, unfolded it, and read:

Mr. Pinky,

My sincere apologies for directing you to the wrong classroom. I hope that old bat didn't give you too much trouble. Please, alert me if you need anything.

- Mrs. Judson

Pinky grinned, chuckling a little as he set the note back down on the table and stepped out from behind the desk.

He sighed happily and looked around the room, gaze glistening.

"I made it, Mum. I made it."

[mst3kproject]

Menace from Outer Space

 With that for a title, we can only be looking at one of two things: this is either a Star Man movie or an installment of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!  I’d ask you to guess but I’m sure you all recognize the Orbit Jet up there, so without further ado, Menace from Outer Space.

Little Bobby thought he was gonna get a comet named after him, but a closer look at the approaching object reveals a missile of some sort, headed straight for Earth!  Vena determines that it could only have been launched from Fornax, an incredibly hot moon of Jupiter where it was thought nothing could live.  Rocky and the gang immediately set out for Fornax to ask them if they can please stop shooting at us, but when they arrive, they learn that they are not the first Earthlings to land here.  The wicked Professor Cardos crashed his own rocket here eight years ago, and he plans to use the power of Fornax’ unique crystals to conquer the galaxy!

The opening of Menace from Outer Space had me groaning.  I’ve seen enough movies about comets or asteroids about to strike the Earth to have a good idea what was coming, and I did not want to see 1956’s version of Armageddon.  Imagine my relief when the meteor turned out to be a missile, which came down and blew up and the whole thing was over and done with inside of five minutes!  I kind of want to apologize to the writers of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger!  I should have had more faith in you guys.

The rest of the movie has everything a MSTie could want from our old friend Rocky Jones.  The technobabble is completely meaningless when it’s not just dead wrong, the aliens are white guys in stupid costumes, the special effects are delightfully hokey, and the fight scenes are as clumsy and stilted as anything with William Shatner in it!  Even Cleolanta makes a cameo appearance, just when I was resigned to not seeing her again. The plot goes through a number of the twists typical of the series, with multiple bad guys making and breaking alliances against the heroes.  It’s pretty involving, and you honestly do want to keep watching and see what happens next.

Traditions are good, so I shall keep one up by talking about the science that appears in this storyline.  One of the most breathtakingly stupid lines comes very early in the movie, when Professor Newton announces that the object he’s spotted can’t be a comet, because it’s making a wooshing noise and “there’s no sound associated with a comet or meteor”.  Uh… professor?  There’s no sound in space, period, on account of the vacuum.  Tom Servo’s head would have exploded.

Then there’s the moon Fornax, which is presented as a bizarre and glittering landscape of crystal pyramids and weird, hourglass-shaped monuments.  There doesn’t seem to be any plant life, which leaves me wondering what the Fornacians eat.  Perhaps they don’t need food, since Professor Newton describes the life of the moon as being based on crystals.  Earth’s scientists had believed that nothing could live in such heat, but crystals, the professor says, can grow, and “growth is life!”  This leads to a bit of a disappointment, as I was hoping we’d get to see something weird and alien like the Horta from Star Trek or the crystal-based organisms of The Monolith Monsters.  But no, the Fornacians are merely people in vaguely Arabian costumes.  I probably should have known better.

Although the moon is described as far too hot for life, with a reference to thousands of degrees, when the Orbit Jet lands there the crew climbs out in their shirtsleeves and likens the weather to a nice day on Palm Beach.  So… what happened to the inhospitable heat?  When King Zorovac visits Earth with Rocky, he never comments on the cold – or on the fact that Earth’s gravity is said to be half that of Fornax’.  The high gravity makes landing and taking off on the moon difficult, but otherwise doesn’t seem to affect anything the humans try to do there. It’s like the writers couldn’t be bothered with their own plot point.

Well… there is that nasty little scene where the guys tease Vena about gaining weight, but that doesn’t count.

The other weird thing about the high gravity is that it implies some very odd things about Fornax itself.  Let’s say Fornax is the biggest moon in the solar system – that would make it the size of Ganymede, a real-life moon of Jupiter, which has a radius of 2600 km.  The surface gravity of Ganymede is about fourteen percent of Earth’s.  In order to make it twice Earth’s, the moon would need a mass about a third that of our home planet, which doesn’t sound like much until you consider that it’s thirteen times Ganymede’s real-life mass and would require a density of nearly ten grams per cubic centimetre.  Such a moon would have to be made almost out of pure lead! And that still wouldn’t have the weird gravitational effects further out in space…

The writers, of course, did not do that math (I can barely believe I did that math). It seems they were just assigning their fictional moon traits willy-nilly, without worrying about whether it was astrophysically possible or even internally consistent.  So it’s actually kind of interesting that Jupiter does, in fact, have a hot little moon!  That, of course, is Io, which has been squashed and stretched by Jupiter’s gravity until its insides spill out in the form of sulfurous volcanoes. The writers of Menace from Outer Space couldn’t have known that, since the volcanism of Io wasn’t discovered until 1979, when astronomer Linda Morabito noticed a volcanic plume in one of the Voyager I photos.  A neat coincidence, though.

As for the people of this curious world – the standard trope would have the inhabitants of a hot planet be belligerent and impulsive (fiery, if you will), so it’s kind of nice that the Fornacians are very much the opposite of this.  They’re presented as valuing reason and careful in their judgment.  Cardos has told the king of Fornax about Earth, but when given the opportunity Zorovac would rather see for himself.  His un-named queen clearly knows what kind of movie she’s in, because she actually listens to children who come to her with information relevant to the plot.  Princess Vollica is a quick study in English and quite resourceful, even though she’s no more than eight years old.  Their missile, we learn, was not actually an attack, but a misguided attempt at communication!

Despite the title being Menace from Outer Space, the real menace in the storyline is the very earthly Professor Cardos. He has told the Fornacians that Earthlings will come to them speaking sweet words about friendship and trade, only to conquer and enslave when Zorovac has his guard down.  I think we’re supposed to be angry that he would say such things, but considering human history, it’s not as if he’s lying. When Zorovac insists on making up his own mind about what Rocky and co have to say, Cardos turns instead to some more reliably evil allies.  This seems to imply that the greatest threat to humans in the entire universe is ourselves, which… again, history makes that seem reasonable.

Menace from Outer Space does do one thing neither of the MST3K installments of Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! did, which is to give us a bit of an idea what some of the characters besides Rocky and Winky actually do.  We still don’t find out exactly how Bobby joined this team but it seems he is a child prodigy and an invaluable assistant to Professor Newton.  When they’re figuring out what they can and can’t take to Fornax with them, Newton argues that Bobby is ‘worth more than his weight in equipment’, and there are bits where he rattles off some rather intense technobabble that Winky is shown as unable to keep up with.  At the same time, the writers never forget that Bobby is only about twelve and while Rocky and Winky joke about his ‘romance’ with Princess Vollica, the friendship between the two children is clearly nothing of the sort.

Vena, too, does a little better in Menace. She’s shown to be a skilled mathematician, and capable of taking over as Rocky’s navigator if Winky is out of commission.  It’s clearly not that she isn’t intelligent, it’s just that her bubbly personality makes her come across as a ditz.  If this were used in the plot, by having the villains underestimate her, I would want to think that it was an intentional attempt to make the audience examine our prejudices about women, but sadly it never is.  Rather, I get the impression that the writers didn’t know what to do with Vena. She makes her one contribution early on when she determines the missile’s origin, and then spends much of the rest of the movie as a hostage.

When people describe Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! as a proto-Star Trek, they’re mostly speaking in terms of the plot, which involves exploring space and meeting very human-like aliens who all speak English.  This isn’t entirely fair.  While obviously not as progressive as Star Trek tried to be, Rocky Jones is smarter than I think it’s given credit for.  The politics of the no-win situation in Crash of Moons, or Cardos disguising his own imperial ambitions by projecting them onto his enemies, is actually pretty weighty for a half-hour tv show.  The acting may be bad, the science wrong, and the gender roles dated, but Rocky Jones, Space Ranger! does a good job of giving the audience food for thought.

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Under Raps

My feelings on this episode are pretty neutral. It’s not anything amazing, but it’s not the worst thing ever either. It’s just there, I guess. 

Summary: During a love festival, Corona displays a book full of signatures of lovers in honor of an old ruler's falling in love with the leader of a rival kingdom. Cassandra suddenly turns very secretive; Rapunzel learns it's because she's been seeing a guy named Andrew. Cassandra doesn't want Rapunzel's meddling, but the princess suggests a double date and they all go off in a hot air balloon. However, Andrew turns out to be part of an old faction that didn't like the unification of Corona and wants to steal the book.

This Backstory Doesn’t Add Up

So we open up with Big Nose narrating about the history of a war between Corona and a group of people called the Saporians. This is important for two reasons. First, because the Saporians are reoccurring villains in the show, and secondly, because it reveals where the underground tunnels running between Old Corona and the Island Capital come from. These tunnels are a reoccurring plot device in the show, along with the book that maps them. 

The problem is that what the story tells us doesn’t match the other information we are given. If it was only the Saporians who invaded then why does an Old Corona, with its own castle, exist to begin with? Why do the tunnels extend from both if King Herz Der Sonne made them? What purpose did they serve if he was only defending the island? Why are the Saporians led by a general and not a ruler? Why would marrying only a general unite the two kings and where was the Saporian kingdom to begin with? Why did they invade? Why are there still Saporians who haven’t accepted the merger centuries later and why do they live on the go outside the kingdom? If  Herz Der Sonne is such a good guy then why did he curse his grave with a zombie apocalypse? Ect. 

We keep getting hints throughout the show that Herz Der Sonne isn’t all he was cracked up to be, and you keep expecting a reveal that it was the Coronaians who started the war and oppressed the Saporians and then rewrote history, but it never comes. The show wants us to accept this very black and white conflict at face value even as it constantly undermines itself and muddies the waters. 

Pointing Out That Something is Stupid in the Show Itself Doesn’t Make it Any Less Stupid

As I stated back during Rapunzel’s Enemy, the show has a real problem with tone. Constantly showing us festival and holiday after festival and holiday only undermines the more serious elements in the ongoing story and creates mood whiplash. Also anything that reminds me of Cinderella 2 is not a good thing. 

Ahh Friedborg, You’re Such a Wasted Opportunity 

So she actually first appeared in Cassandra V. Eugene but I forgot to bring her up there. My bad. Friedborg is something of a fan favorite in the TTS fandom, and I like her too, but she adds nothing. She’s a joke character in a tv show already oversaturated by joke characters. More over the joke is actually offensive on some level since it all hinges on her being less conventionally attractive then the other female characters and the mains finding her weird because she never talks. 

The show tries to justify her existence by making her Big Nose’s girlfriend, but she’s not who he ended up with in the movie. And once again it’s kind of offensive to imply that only people who don’t match society’s contrived beauty standards can only find love with those that look like them. Thereby completely missing the point of Big Nose’s character arc. 

I’ll say it right now, Friedborg should have been Zan Tiri, or Demantius. Take your pick. I think ZT makes more sense, but etheir way she should have been a setup for something more important to the plot rather then just be being a vauge oddity that just pops up from time to time. 

I Miss This Version of Eugene

Throughout the first two seasons, Eugene and Cassandra were willing to point out Rapunzel’s BS. Forcing her to confront her flaws and re-examine her positions.I would argue that the show could have pushed this even further but at least it was there. By the final season no one was doing this. Rapunzel is allowed to be as awful as she wants to be without consequence. Meaning she never learns anything and stops growing as a character and the show acts like this a positive thing. It is not. In fact, it is the biggest flaw of the whole show as it fails to achieve the one thing it originally set out to do; which is to tell a coming of age story with Rapunzel. 

It also has the added effect of making Eugene a doormat to Rapunzel’s bulling, thereby regressing his character as well and presenting an unhealthy relationship as a goal to be achieved to younger viewers. I can not stress enough to young girls and young men in particular, that Rapunzel and Eugene are not ‘relationship goals’ in this show. Not after season 3. 

Xavier Doesn’t Get a Proper Introduction 

So Xavier is actually pretty important to the ongoing plot. He’s more or less the exposition fairy for the show, but he’s not really established. He just suddenly appears here with no prior meeting and he just so happens to know what the main characters need to know with no explanation as to how he knows. 

His part here is so forgettable that I legit forgot who he was when he reappeared in the mid-season finale. I had thought that the writers just threw in a random character for plot purposes. And to be fair they did. Just they did it here instead of in Queen for a Day. 

If the showrunners wanted Xavier to be historian who knows everything and tells stories, then he should have been introduced as the narrator of the history of Hearts Day instead of Big Nose. 

Another Lesson Not Learned 

We get this big heart to heart moment of Raps and Cass coming to an understanding, with Rapunzel promising not to intrude and Cass promising to being more honest about her feelings. This is walked back on several times and made part of the core conflict of the last two seasons. 

Once again, any problem that can be solved in less then five minutes of talking isn’t a strong enough conflict to drive multiple seasons. If this had been a show without an ongoing narrative, like say The Rescue Rangers or even Batman the Animated Series, then the repeated lessons wouldn’t be a problem. We expect characters to be static and to reset after each episode since they’re not shows that you watch in order. 

But if you do go the overarching arc route for a story, then people expect lasting character development. Even in shows like Gravity Falls or Steven Universe, where the change is more gradual and the characters do repeat mistakes occasionally, there’s still a marketed change by the end. One that indicates improvement by the characters, and the inter conflicts are never exactly the same each time with exactly the same lesson over and over again. 

 Oh Look, Cassandra Once Again Achieving her Goal of Validation 

Cass is awarded a medal by her father for stopping Andrew. Don’t expect her or the show to remember this. 

Also more Cass and Cap interaction that we don’t get to see. 

Can We Not Imply That Cassandra Still has a Crush on the Guy Who Lied to Her and Then Almost Killed Her, and Can We Not Act Like This is a Good Thing?

So this flower was given to Cassandra by Andrew and her keeping it makes zero sense. 

First off lets not have one of our few strong independent female characters crushing on the show’s stereotypical ‘nice guy’, okay? That’s all kinds of gross. Secondly, if the intention was to show that Cass was now more willing to open up about her feelings, then wouldn’t her keeping one of the gifts Raps made her earlier in the episode make more sense? After all, that’s the relationship that actually matters to Cassandra and is the basis of the whole show. 

But this all boils down to the fact that the creator sees Cassandra as straight, always has, and thinks her crushing on the guy who manipulated her is somehow better than ‘no-homo’. Now you can headcanon Cass as whatever you want and ship her with whomever you want, as canon doesn’t matter. But I find it hilarious that most of the head showrunner’s biggest supporters are mainly Casspunzel fans and yet he’s the one who made them ‘sisters’ and sees them as such.

Like I hate to break it to you guys, but a Cass led spin-off headed by Chris won't be the lesbian rep that you’ve always dreamed of. You’re better off just watching the She-Ra reboot. 

But things gets even worse when Rapunzel approves of this stupid ‘crush’ ...

Don’t Ever Tell Someone That You’re Proud of Them For Going On a Date

Dating is just something some people choose to do together and some people choose not to engage in that. It’s not an accomplishment and it shouldn’t be treated as such. This is insulting to both people who don’t date, for whatever reason, and to women who hate being being defined by their relationships, which is most of us. 

Even if you’re being charitable and try to make this about Cassandra self esteem and her learning she’s worth ‘loving’, which is the reason some people have offered up for this scene, it still falls apart when it’s not established that Cassandra ever had such self esteem issues to begin with and was not looking for romance anyways. And if that is what the show is going for then it’s still problematic to suggest that being found as attractive by someone else is need for self esteem. In fact, that’s kind of the opposite of what self esteem is.    

Conclusion 

Overall this episode was ‘meh’. Like most season one episodes the problems stem from the ongoing narrative and lack of follow though in later seasons. However there’s enough stuff in here on it’s own to rub me just the wrong way that I can’t actually call it good either. 

It doesn’t help that I don’t see the appeal of Andrew at all. Watching the character is just a cringefest for me. He’s too similar to real life men I’ve unfortunately met and therefore sends alarm bells ringing in my head. And I agree with Eugene; he’s not all that handsome.