#but eventually as he gets older just ye olde ratio

[fightwing]

does your muse look at their internet tags yes or no

[sweetshoko]

you didn’t see that, falco.

tutoring falco grice was a good way to make some money. on the other hand, being around his brother wasn’t so bad either.

PAIRING(S); colt grice x reader, minor falco grice x gabi braun, platonic!hitch x reader, implied ymirhisu, implied sasha x niccolo

WARNING(S); alcohol use, parties, heated make out session, no smut (16+ & sfw)

WC; 7.4k

EXTRA(S); sfw college!au, tutor x tutoree’s older brother, colt is a humanities major, roommate!sasha, stereotypical college halloween party, sasha and niccolo have funny little matching costumes with connie

NOTE(S); again sry i do not have a beta reader so sry for any mistakes. happy valentine’s day!!!

— LESSON 1; RATIOS

Tutoring was an easy and convenient way of making money for you.

The tutoring center at Paradis University allowed you to work ten hours a week, helping out not only college students that needed help, but also nearby high, middle, and elementary schools with the goal of helping out the community for free. Fitting it in with your other classes and schoolwork wasn’t too hard. Plus, who would say no to getting a discount at the student store?

“We got a new client from that middle school full of geniuses,” Hitch announces from her side of the service area. “His name’s Falco and apparently he’s having a little trouble with math.”

“The genius middle school? You mean the one with the scary warrior mascot?”

“Yeah,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee, “It’s an in house one, too. And I really do not feel like going.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as Hitch stares you down. You know what she’s thinking in her head–’Please say yes, please say yes. I don’t wanna go.’ But you glare back at her until she groans.

“I’ll take you out to eat. My treat. Just don’t make me go all the way over there on four hours of sleep.”

“Alright, fine!”

“Yay!”

After Hitch jumps up to engulf you in a bear hug, you grab your backpack and enter the address on the paper slip into your phone.

The walk is short, only ten minutes, and you curse Hitch under your breath for being lazy as you ring the doorbell. This Falco’s house is quaint, located on the corner of a street, right by the grocery store plaza you usually go to. From behind the door, you can hear a gruff voice calling Falco’s name from the other side of the door and soon enough, you’re met with the sight of a tall blonde around your age.

“I’m here for Falco?” You tell him, giving the boy a polite smile.

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll get him for you. You can come in.”

He directs you to the couch without another word, avoiding eye contact, as you set up your laptop along with your notebook on the coffee table. Sure enough, a twelve year old boy sits down next to you with a paper and pencil on his lap. You hold out your hand for him to shake and he grips it loosely.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). And you must be Falco.”

He nods, looking down at his lap rather than at your face. It’s common for kids to be reserved around new people and Falco was no different in that respect. Although, it makes your job just a little bit harder, so you decide to break the ice.

“Alright, Falco. Do you play any video games?”

His ears perk up at the question. “W-What?”

“I asked if you play any video games. If I’m going to be helping you with math today, I might as well get to know you a little bit.”

“W- Well, I really like Minecraft–”

“Me too! I like making farms there. Potatoes, carrots, wheat, everything. I used to play more when I had free time.”

“No way!” He jumps up from the couch eagerly, eyes lighting up with excitement. That wasn’t too hard. “Me and my friends have a server together, we share a farm and I have this huge mansion that I’m still building.”

Falco’s enthusiasm draws him into a more comfortable zone and after ten minutes of his rambling, you eventually shift the focus back onto a practice problem on ratios. After reading a problem about cake ingredients, you turn your head towards him and he looks back at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m sorry, Ms. (Y/N)… But I don’t really get it.”

You think for a moment and an idea pops into your head.

“Falco, if you were to make a stone pickaxe, how many sticks would you need?”

“Two.”

“Right. And if you had an unlimited amount of stone, how many pickaxes can you make with six sticks?”

“Three!”

“Good job, Falco! You just did a ratio problem.”

You hold your hand out for a high five and he returns the gesture enthusiastically. It was your favorite part of tutoring kids—seeing them finally get what they’re learning. “So it’s the same idea for the cake, right? Since the sugar is unlimited, I just have to figure out how many I can make with 6 cups of flour.”

“Yes. You got it now?”

“I think I can do these myself.” He responds happily.

He starts on his homework, muttering the arithmetic to himself while his brother comes out of his room to get a drink. Noticing Falco’s newfound focus, he shoots you a curious glance and you smile back, waving him off before he goes back inside.

You’re not blind. Falco’s brother is… handsome. You’d hate to admit it to yourself—Falco is your client and it’s unprofessional—but with his hazel eyes and pink cheeks, you can’t help but notice. It’s only a part of your instinct, though you knew you wouldn’t actively pursue him. It’s out of the question.

Eventually, about thirty minutes pass and Falco is done with only a few errors here and there, but you have him correct them himself. He’s really gotten down the basics and even though you just met this kid today, you feel proud of his efforts.

Before leaving to finish out the rest of your shift at the tutoring center, his brother comes out of his room to walk you out. Falco waves goodbye with a wide smile on his face.

“My name is Colt, by the way.”

“Colt.” You repeat to yourself, looking right into his eyes. His gaze falters a bit, but he still maintains eye contact. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He has a firm grip when he shakes your hand for the first time.

— LESSON 2; LINES

“The same kid from Tuesday added your name to his preference box. Looks like you’re popular.”

Your day is lightened up as Hitch hands you the pink slip with a wide smile on her face. “It’s neat, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“The last name’s Grice. You know who I’m talking about, right?”

“I don’t get it.”

“Oh my god!” she whispers loudly. Her face is close to yours when she speaks, hands remaining on your shoulders as if you missed a dramatic piece of information. “Colt Grice? Do you not remember?”

“I mean, Colt is the name of his cute older brother, yes… But I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“He was in our history class last semester,” she scoffs, “The one GE class that was so fucking hard for no reason? Remember the tall long face blonde man?”

“He was in our class?”

“Yes!” She replies as you gawk at her, “He’s literally friends with Annie!”

“I didn’t even notice he went here?”

“Liar. You’re fucking lying. And you’re too focused on school. Maybe have some fun once in a while. Go out. Kiss Falco’s older brother.”

“That’s very unprofessional. And I do have fun!”

“Yeah, but the tutoring center has been boring. I need you to do something mildly crazy.” She rolls her eyes as you lightly smack the back of her head.

“You’re vile. I’ll see you later, Hitch.”

You leave the tutoring center remembering the route to Falco’s house. This time, Falco is the one who lets you in, eagerly pulling you by your wrist to the couch. The coffee table is set with a new creeper plushie and an old laptop showing a familiar block game. “Look! I built a garden for my friend’s server! Do you like it?”

You smile, making yourself comfortable on the couch as his avatar walks around his new creation. “Of course I love it! I like how you made a pattern with all the different colored flowers, it’s really pretty!”

“Thanks,” he replies smugly, “And my brother got me this creeper yesterday! I’ve been wanting one for a while, but my parents wouldn’t get me one. Colt gave it to me, though!”

“Your brother must really take care of you.”

“He does.”

Just as you start to set your laptop on the table, Colt comes out of his room and into the kitchen. He notices you from the corner of his eye as he makes his cup of coffee, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Still, you haven’t shifted, finding a file on your computer instead while Falco sits next to you with a notebook on his lap. Not wanting to bother the two of you, he returns back to his room. He decides to find another time to talk despite the limited window you’ll probably have after the lesson.

You and Falco spend an hour connecting the ratio problem he was having trouble with last time to the basic line graph. He’s less tense than he was during the last session and the observation makes you feel content—not only is he more comfortable, he’s also getting better at solving problems. It must be a relief for him. But eventually, it’s time to go back to the tutoring center and check in with Hitch before you get off your shift.

“I- I have a question.”

“Yes, Falco.”

“Do you think you can come here every week? I’ve been doing better in school and- and I think you’re pretty cool. I’ve had another tutor before, but he was really scary.” He looks down at his feet, shuffling as he awaits your response.

“You can sign up for weekly sessions, just fill out the slip again and choose the option for it. Remember to get your brother or parent’s signature, alright?”

“Got it! I’ll see you next week again, Miss (Y/N).”

“I’ll see you! And you don’t have to call me Miss. I’m just a college student.”

When he hears your goodbyes for his room, Colt comes out to walk you to the front door just like last time, finally seeing his chance. You thank him once you’re on the doorstep, the sun setting on the horizon—a reminder that you should start walking back before it gets too dark.

“Thanks for helping out Falco. It really means a lot.”

“It’s really no problem. It is my job after all and plus, he’s a really sweet kid.”

Flashing him a smile, you make your way down the steps, but he calls out your name before you reach the sidewalk.

“Did you walk here?”

“Yes. It’s really only ten minutes away, I’ll be fine—“

“But it’ll be dark by the time you get on campus, are you sure?”

“To be honest, I can’t really afford to call an Uber right now, Colt. I would love to but my biology textbook really drained my checking account.”

“I’ll just drive you back, don’t worry about it.”

“What?” You turn around, backpack swinging along your shoulder. His cheeks are pink when he points at the car parked in his driveway. “You really don’t have to. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I know we just formally met last week, but I’d hate it if anything happened to you, you know?” He rambles, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Just to be safe. I’m sure your friends have your location and everything. I’ll drive you back to campus. Or your apartment, too. I really don’t mind and Falco can handle being in the house alone for a little bit—“

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the offer,” you cut him off, walking towards the passenger seat of his car, “Plus, we did have a class together. And you know Annie. She’s my neighbor, after all.”

“You remember me?”

“Well, we both went to the extra credit studying sessions. Not that many people went.”

“Cool, cool.”

“Drop me off at the library first so I can clock out. Do you know where Annie lives?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there before.”

“Just take me to the parking lot. I really appreciate it.”

Before getting in the car, he goes back inside to tell Falco that he’s leaving, reminding him to not open the door to any strangers and leaving some food out for his snack.

The car ride to the library is nearly silent aside from the music playing on the speakers, but it’s short, only taking a solid two minutes. Despite having a class together, you two had never spoken outside of Falco’s tutoring sessions, but you’re not uncomfortable in any way. You couldn’t really find a reason to distrust Colt other than the fact you didn’t know him too well, but he was also kind enough to drive you home.

When you get to the library, Hitch greets you by grabbing your wrists. There’s a mischievous smile on her face as you plop your backpack down on the floor, rummaging the front pocket for your wallet. It’s unnerving and you glare at her until she stops hovering around you. “What? I haven’t even started talking.”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Well. Did you talk to him?”

“Only small talk. Because I go to that house to do my job. Not fuck my tutoree’s old brother.”

“Boring.”

“And I also have to go. I’m tired.”

“Noooo…” she whines, pulling you into a bear hug, “Please don’t go. It’s so boring and I have two hours left.”

“I just said I’m tired. Sasha’s boyfriend is also coming over to cook. You know. The chef.”

“Tch, that’s not even until later? Are you in a rush or something?”

“Not really. I just don’t wanna keep my ride waiting.”

“The bus comes every 15 minutes, you’ll be fine. Unless…”

“Hitch, no—“

There’s not really a way to prevent Hitch from looking outside the window. She works right next to it after all, but you know how it looks to her. She turns to you with a smirk, staring at you for a few seconds before asking.

“Why is Colt Grice parked in front of the library, hm?”

“Because he offered to bring me home… And he’s a nice guy.”

“Interesting. I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

“You can’t just barge into my apartment because you live next to me—“

“Bye!”

Hitch practically pushes you out the door as Colt waves at you, readjusting his posture while you get into the car. “Did you clock out okay?”

“Yeah. Do you know Annie’s roommate by the way?”

“Hitch? Yeah, she’s pretty funny. Her and Pieck have been the reason for my hangovers lately, but they’re really nice.”

“You, too?”

“Yeah. She always says something along the lines of ‘Have more fun!’ or ‘Stop being so boring.’ And then I end up with the worst headaches of my life the next morning.”

“She still says that to me even outside of parties. I adore her, though.”

“Me, too. They’re fun people.”

Both of you share a few moments of comfortable silence before the conversation carries on. Talking to Colt is easy, he’s not as intimidating as he looks. Despite his muscular build and height, the tone of his voice remains gentle. He hands onto every word you say, making a comment here and there when something comes to mind, but never interrupting your rambling.

“Falco’s a real sweet kid.”

“He really is. He cleans his room, he does all his chores properly which is odd considering how I was when I was 12. But I’m really lucky to have a little brother like him.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you guys live with your parents?”

“No, actually. They live about an hour away, but they wanted to send Falco to the nice middle school while I went to Paradis so that he can get into good schools when it’s time for him to go to college. It worked out ‘cause once I got out of the military, he was just entering middle school.”

“Military?”

“Yeah. It was a rough time, but I’m here now!”

“I’m glad,” you respond with a soft tone, admiring the view of his face from the passenger seat, “Well, what are you majoring in?”

“Humanities. Minoring in Spanish and German so that I can become a translator. I got stationed in Europe for a long time before getting out. What about you?”

“Chemical engineering.”

“No wonder you’re so good at math,” he pauses with a grin, “Falco talks about you when you’re not around, you know?” He takes a quick glance at you before focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Really?”

“Well, he was really struggling before I signed him up for the tutoring program. And that plus the fact you also play Minecraft probably got him to like you so much.”

“I’m happy that I get to tutor a kid like him. Honestly.”

When he gets to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he waits for you to get into the building before driving off. Waving goodbye, you feel giddy walking up the steps to your apartment.

— LESSON 3; GIRLS???

After a month, going to the Grice household becomes one of the highlights of your week. Every time you rang the doorbell, you were able to hear Falco’s heavy steps towards the door and once you came in, you were welcomed by the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Colt always made an extra cup for you and every week it got harder and harder to leave.

Falco was almost like a little brother to you. Before starting his homework, he’d let you know about what he’d been building that week, teachers that bothered him, the funny things that his friends Udo and Gabi had said. You weren’t expecting to form such a close bond to the boy, but you’re glad that he chose you as his math tutor.

Although, today, he seemed a little more jittery. He’s definitely nervous—you can tell by the way he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, his inability to maintain eye contact during small talk. It reminds you of the first time you met the kid.

“C- Can I ask you a question before we start?”

“Yeah, Falco. Is there something bothering you?”

“I- I…”

“Yes?” You wait for him to speak,

“W- What stuff do girls like?”

“Huh?”

The question takes you off guard, but you gradually grow excited to answer it. After all, this might be Falco’s first crush and the thought makes you feel all warm inside. He’s too adorable.

“Like what they might like about a boy. Or just in general. Actually, I know, b- but—“

“Is there someone at school you like?”

Falco turns a bright shade of red, spreading from his cheeks all the way up to his ears. He can’t look you in the eye, only fumbling with the bottom of his t-shirt. Meanwhile, Colt stays behind the wall leading to the living room, listening intently. As much as he knows he should respect the privacy of the conversation, how could he? His little brother has a crush! And who knows when Falco would develop the courage to tell him about it.

“Y- Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

“Gabi…”

It takes Colt a lot of self control not to pop out from behind the wall. So Reiner’s little sister. It just makes sense. They’ve been family friends since elementary school and ever since he moved down here, he and Gabi have spent a lot of time together. She’s threatened bullies for him and he’s stayed by her side through her most embarrassing moments. God knows she’s had a lot of them. Gabi Braun? She is 100% Colt approved, not that it matters what he thinks, but she is.

“Well, what do you like about her?”

Colt can see your face right now, your eyes are probably shining bright with a smile so sweet that it makes his teeth rot. He’s noticed that your tone becomes gentle when the conversation gets close to heart. And this? This is definitely close to Falco’s heart.

“She’s tough. I’m not tough like her, but she’s enough for the both of us. When I first moved, people at school were mean to me, but she always came out of nowhere to help. She’s also really smart. I don’t know why so many people think she’s dumb, but she’s good at everything. Even though she beats me at a lot of games without going easy on me, I still like her. I don’t know. I just like her. I think about her all the time and I don’t know what to do about it.”

It takes a lot of willpower to not internally combust. You’re not sure if he realizes it, but it was probably the cutest thing you’d ever heard.

“Well, Falco, you’re a sweet boy and I’m sure she would like you for that. When you’re ready, you should tell her about how you feel. It sounds like she’ll stay friends with you no matter what happens.”

“Wait! You don’t think she likes me?”

“I’m sorry, Falco! I didn’t mean it like that!” You semi panic, nearly scrambling your words, “I mean in the case she didn’t! I mean, she did fight off bullies for you. So I guess I’m just trying to say you mean a lot to her. Romantic feelings or no feelings. ”

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. But you have to respect whatever feelings she has for you. Even if she doesn’t like you back, okay?”

“Got it,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead, “Do you really think it’ll be okay after I tell her?”

“Yes, Falco.”

He thinks for a second before responding. “Alright. I trust you.”

— LESSON 4; INEQUALITIES

You don’t blame Falco for not being able to quite grasp inequalities. When you were his age, you didn’t completely understand them either, but after a few breaks, a long studying session, and Minecraft analogies, he was able to finally get a question right. Math definitely wasn’t his strong suit, but he tries his best and improves a ton.

But now, it was late. The tutoring center is about to close soon and you really shouldn’t overstay your welcome.

You knock on Colt’s open door with your backpack slung against your shoulder. “Ready?”

“It’s later than usual, are you sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner?”

“You’d let me do that?”

“Why not? You’ve been helping out my brother for over a month.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m also getting paid by the school.”

“Tsk. Just let me be nice to you, I swear I won't bite. I haven’t this whole time, have I?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Really. I drive you home because I want to.” He comes closer, leaning on the outer part of the door. “And I’ll let you eat here because I want you to.”

It takes a few seconds of you staring for him to realize what he had just said and he quickly turns a bright red right after. “W- Wait… I mean. I mean like–”

“No worries. I understood what you were trying to say,” you smirk, shifting your weight until you’re standing normally, tilting your head towards the dinner table. “So, what’re you making for dinner?”

“P- Pasta.”

“Cool. I like pasta.”

The time that Colt takes to cook is the perfect opportunity for Falco to show off his mansion on Minecraft. You’re impressed. You didn’t expect a twelve year old boy to have such an organized design, but Falco has a whole color scheme that he seems to be strict about based on how in depth he goes in his explanation.

“Gabi likes to go monster hunting, but I like building the buildings more. She does bring back a lot of good blocks, though. I really don’t like mining that much.”

“Gabi, Gabi, Gabi. You talk about Gabi a lot. Why is that, Falco?”

You stay silent, watching Falco turn red while Colt teases his little brother. “Shut up!”

Colt smirks from the kitchen, plating your pasta into three bowls, signaling for you two to join him at the table. The food is good, parmesan and garlic always go good together, and you give the cook a thumbs up. Falco is still silent and bright red as Colt ruffles his hair. “It’s okay, Falco. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Reiner?”

“Not even Reiner.”

You smile at the exchange between the two boys. You admire Colt for taking care of Falco, especially knowing that he has school and work amongst other things to focus on. You could tell he really loves him, too, even if it’s not explicitly stated out loud. He’s reliable, caring, and kind which makes it all the harder to not develop a small crush on the boy. It doesn’t help the fact that he has pretty eyes, easy to get lost into, nor the fact that he’s easily flustered, turning red at the slightest bit of touch. Colt doesn’t really pretend nor try to have swagger because he’s just… Colt. Plain and simple, but all the more interesting.

He catches you staring, a blush creeping up his cheeks again just like his little brother.

“I asked (Y/N) what stuff girls like…” Falco speaks up, breaking the tension.

“Oh? What’d you say?”

“I just told Falco to confess when he’s ready and respect her decision. He doesn’t need to change anything about himself.”

“That’s it?” Colt questions, “You didn’t tell him to get her flowers or anything?”

“I don’t know the stuff Gabi likes. The things we like aren’t universal, you know.”

“Well, then what stuff do you like?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You know. Just to give Falco an idea.”

“Hmm,” you think for a few seconds, resting your hand on the side of your face. “I think flowers are cool. But I like it when people bring me food unexpectedly at school, too. Or just even a coffee. I also like picnics.”

“Interesting choices.”

Falco looks at the two of you with squinted eyes wondering why you two are staring at each other like that. It’s almost scary, but he stays silent, finishing the rest of his pasta instead of saying anything. He feels like he’s not supposed to be there and the dots start to connect in his head.

“Hey, Falco. Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Because you don’t really get any girls.”

“Excuse me?”

–OFF NIGHT; HALLOWEEN

“Oh my god!”

“I told you that you’d like my costume, didn’t I?”

“And so Niccolo is…”

“Yes. And he looks stupid but I love him for doing this for me.”

You gawk at the sight of Sasha in red tights, a red bodysuit, and red cape, a red headpiece adorning her hair. Both of you had binge watched WandaVision with Niccolo and Connie just a few months ago. As beautiful as Sasha looks, that means…

“Niccolo’s wearing the stupid little yellow shorts? He’s got green tights and everything?”

“Leggings,” she corrects you, “He couldn’t figure out the makeup so he has a mask, but I don’t think he’ll be wearing it. And you’re—“

“A cow. Yep.”

You give her a spin, showing off the two piece set. The sleeves are long, but flowy as it gets to your wrist. Your skirt stops mid thigh, ears adorning the top of your head.

“Like that one Doja Cat music video?”

“Bitch, I’m a cow, yep.”

“I love Halloween.”

After the both of you finish your makeup, you head next door to Hitch’s place an hour late. The apartment is still crowded, but you see a few familiar faces which excites you despite the heat and lack of space. “Mikasa!” You’d recognize her anywhere with her short, dark hair and tall figure. Except this time, she’s dressed as a witch, a hat with a little black dress and stockings. “Why’d you quit the tutoring center? We miss you.”

“I got an internship! It doesn’t pay, but it's experience.”

Both of you catch up with Hitch, who is currently provocatively dressed up as a fairy, soon joining the two of you with red solo cups in her hands. “What is this?”

“Try it!”

You take a hesitant sip, tasting the mostly sweet liquid on your tongue, probably full of alcohol, but you take a note to yourself to make sure not to drink too much. “It’s our jungle juice!”

“Why- Why does it taste so good?” Mikasa asks, downing most of it in seconds.

“Secret.”

Because of school and work, you feel like you haven’t seen a lot of these people in forever. Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Jean, and Connie… They were good friends of yours and being around them helped you loosen up despite all the other strangers cramped in the apartment.

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you’re met with the sight of a familiar blonde.

“Colt!”

You're tipsy, hugging the boy with your arms around his neck, lingering for a little longer than you intended. Although, he doesn’t stop you, holding onto you, subtly breathing in your scent. “What are you supposed to be?”

His cheeks are red again as he points to his chest, holes where you guess his nipples are. He’s layered a long sleeve shirt under his current one. “Regina George.”

“Oh my god.”

After a few poses showing off his shitty costume, he positions you in front of him and you finally notice that he’s with other people. Other than Annie, there’s two blondes and two brunettes standing in front of you. He points from left to right as he introduces each of them.

“That’s Porco, Reiner, Bertholdt, and Pieck.”

You nod, holding your hand out to shake. “Me and Reiner know each other,” you whisper to Colt, “Him and Eren used to get into fights a lot.”

He chuckles while you introduce yourself to the rest of his friends. Pieck especially takes a liking to you, leading to you two complimenting each other’s costumes and having your own conversation. She’s dressed as a maid, puffy sleeves and a dangerously short dress that looks amazing on her. Eventually, Hitch and Annie join, too, complaining about people in their classes and whoever they’ve hooked up with.

“You and Colt seem to get along,” Pieck states, looking you in the eyes. Her gaze is intense, causing you to gulp loudly.

“Yeah. I tutor his brother in math. Falco’s a really nice kid.”

“He also drives her home,” Hitch adds, “He stops by school to let her clock out, too.”

“Colt’s a nice guy. It’s hard to not get along with him.”

“I’m sure that’s it. Maybe he likes you, too.”

Your cheeks heat up while the two girls stare at you. You look to Annie for help, but she only stares back, casually sipping her drink. It takes a lot for you to not pull on her chiton for her to say something, anything else. “Why are you looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You nervous?” Pieck asks, lazily grabbing your hand pulling you up until you’re standing. “Don’t be. I just wanted to get to know the person he won’t stop talking about.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Let’s go dance.”

She pulls you into the crowd, loosely wrapping your arms around your waist. The two of you aren’t quite drunk, but you’re both getting there, giggling while she makes a few jokes, resting her head on your shoulder. Kissing your cheek, she spins you around until you’re in front of her, holding hands while you both sway to the music.

“Look. Pieck’s at work again.”

Reiner nudges Porco who chuckles at the sight. “When do you think he’s gonna notice?”

“No clue. I hope it’s soon. This should be fun.” He replies, watching the blonde take shots with Annie and Ymir.

It doesn’t take much for Colt to get tipsy, but he still stumbles towards Reiner and Porco, the two making fun of him as they take little peeks at the small crowd. He notices they seem a bit distracted, but doesn’t question it, taking a glance for himself. There’s nothing odd about it until he looks a little harder.

Pieck’s face is dangerously close to your neck as she grabs onto your waist, your back pressed against her chest. Her hands wander and you go along with it, giggling when she pokes your side.

“Is that–”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“What can I say? Pieck is one interesting girl.”

“She’s definitely targeting me.”

“She’s definitely targeting you.”

“Well,” Reiner continues, looking back at his friend, “What are you going to do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Makes sense. She’s probably trying to get a rise out of you.”

“She definitely is trying to get a rise out of me,” Colt sighs, taking his eyes off the crowd, “Would it be unprofessional to ask her out?”

“Probably.”

“It’s really hard not to.”

“Well, she’s tutoring Falco, not you, and you’re not paying her. The school pays her since it’s a community program.”

“I’ll talk to her later, but I think I’ll take more shots. I can hear Hitch calling my name.”

After a few hours, Connie is drunk, dressed up as Jimmy Woo, and having a dance battle with Sasha. Neither of them are good, but Niccolo watches from the couch, taking a video for future use. Jean is holding onto Eren, both of them exchanging ‘I love yous’ and apologies for a fight that happened three years ago. Reiner is completely sober as the designated driver, but talking to Annie in the free corner of her apartment. Ymir and Historia are playing beer pong with Mikasa and Armin, the former winning from what you can tell. There are many more people, many of whom you don’t know, but it’s not surprising considering how Hitch easily makes friends and acquaintances.

You sit out in a chair on the balcony, hearing someone slide the glass door open. “Can I join?”

You nod, watching Colt make himself comfortable on the other chair. “Who’s watching Falco?”

“Udo’s mom. They went out trick or treating and he’s sleeping over there.”

“I hope he’s having fun.”

“Me, too. You looked like you were having fun back there with Pieck.”

“Yeah, she’s really cool. I wish I could have met her sooner.”

A few moments of comfortable silence pass and that’s when you take a good look at him through your blurry vision. His cheeks are flushed red, as they are half of the time you both have a conversation, and he’s looking right at you, caught in the act and not bothering to look away. “You could be having fun with me, too, you know.”

“Are you jealous or something?”

“No. I just think it’s interesting.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms together, “You wanna come to my apartment, it’s kind of cold out here.”

“You don’t wanna just go inside?”

“Don’t you want to see my super cool awesome living space?”

“I guess,” he chuckles, letting you grab his hand to pull him up.

Both of you stumble towards the front door, no one noticing that the two of you are leaving. When you unlock your apartment, he’s greeted with the scent of vanilla and lavender. It’s neat, not too messy other than the unfolded blanket on your couch, but mostly neat. Once you close the door, everything happens so fast, your back hitting the wall, his lips on yours.

They’re soft and the kiss is sloppy, his hand gripping the underside of your face and his tongue slips into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. Your legs straddle around his waist and hoists you up until you’re holding onto him for support. Through your drunken haze, you can feel his hand grabbing the plush of your ass. He pulls away, foreheads touching as you both catch your breaths.

“I like you.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“I’ve liked you for months, if I’m being honest.”

“Really, now? Is it just the alcohol talking?”

“I think the only thing it’s doing is making me less nervous.”

His phone vibrates and he groans as he reads the text from Reiner.

big braun; Where are you bro?? We’re about to leave

colt; i’ll be there soon.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll go with you to say goodbye,” you reply, fixing your skirt, “But I just need to get something.”

“What is it?”

You lean in one more time for another kiss, pulling his face to yours, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. He smiles into it, resting the palm of his hands on your cheeks. You slip your tongue through his parted lips, causing him to moan into your mouth. It’s hard to pull away, especially harder for him when you wrap your legs around his waist, skirt bunching up to your stomach.

When you finally pull away, he’s breathless, staring at you with dark pupils, drool spilling from the side of his mouth. “Just that.”

“You’re gonna make it harder to leave.”

“I know.”

“Well, are you coming?”

“I don’t want to go.”

Both of you lay back on the couch as he sends Reiner a quick text asking for a few more minutes. Tipsy and tired, he lays his head on your chest, closing his eyes as his heartbeat slows. You rub his back, playing with his hair as he drifts off. You’re close to sleeping, too, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours, the feeling of being held overcoming your senses.

And you eventually do after planting a kiss on his head, Sasha finding the two of you in that position before handing Colt off to Reiner. It was hard to pry him off of your sleeping form, but he made it home that night.

– LESSON 5; MORE LINES AND WORD PROBLEMS

“I just don’t get it when I’m going to need this in life.”

“Relax, Falco. You’ll get it soon.”

“I don’t care about how much CDs cost. No one uses them anymore,” he groans frustratedly, “And why do I have to relate it to VHS tapes. No one sells things like that.”

You sigh, changing the problem to a different one. To be fair, it was a bit of a challenging question, but you were just testing the waters. Once it's a basic problem, he starts solving it like normal, scribbling down numbers on his notebook.

You haven’t seen Colt at all during your visit.

And he’s usually home, doing his own homework in his own room, occasionally coming outside to check on Falco or grab some food from the kitchen. But you can’t really blame him. Maybe it was a little too awkward. But it’s also been two days and he hasn’t even tried to contact you once about his tipsy confession. To be fair, you haven’t either, but you didn’t want to be the one to instigate it.

In his room, Colt Grice stares at his reflection in the mirror contemplating how to ask you on a date. It feels like high school all over again for him. The amount of time he’s debated whether showing up to the tutoring center with coffee was a good idea, the flowers on his desk that he had planned to give to you at some point—what if you didn’t want any of it from him? Despite the fact you made out during the Halloween party, he’s terrified that it’s all it was—a drunk kiss.

Ah, the Halloween party. He still remembers the feeling of your soft lips on his, the marks you left on his neck right before he left your apartment, your legs wrapped tightly against his waist, pulling him, never wanting him to leave. It gives him goosebumps, it makes his heart beat faster, it makes his breathing a little heavier.

And all the more nervous because he was never really good with his words. He loves Falco, but he always shows it through teasing and hugs and gifts. And he really likes you, but he didn’t think he’d tell you this soon under those circumstances.

It’s all a mess in his head, but he knows he needs to go out there soon before you leave.

“Good job, Falco! I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks.”

“Next problem?”

“I’ll try the next three problems without help if you let me.”

“Oh? Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

Falco gives you a bright smile before returning to his homework, leaving you on your phone waiting for him to finish. Around the time you leave will be the time that he finishes his problem set. If Colt doesn’t want to come out, you won’t wait for him. But if you’re going to keep helping out his brother, you might as well talk about it, right?

“Finished?”

“Yep!”

You check his answers, marking the problems that are wrong and the places he made mistakes. There’s really only a few, he’ll be good to go soon. And that’s when you’d be going back to the tutoring center.

“Is your brother home?”

“Yeah, he’s in his room, why?”

“I need to talk to him about… college stuff.”

“Okay. I’ll just wait for you when I’m done.”

“Thanks, Falco.”

You walk through the short hallway, finding his door and knocking three times. Through the wood, you hear a faint ‘shit!’ and shuffling. When the door opens after some time, you’re met with the sight of a familiar blonde, except his hair is much messier and disheveled than usual.

“We need to talk about—“ you both say in unison before cutting off. He’s obviously nervous, hands fumbling together while he leans on the door.

“I’m sorry if this is like, awkward for you, but I really think it’s okay. I can keep tutoring Falco and I can pretend it never happened if you want?”

“W-What? Where did you get that idea?”

“I just assumed that you didn’t really want to talk about it, which is okay, but— mmph!”

Just like before, his lips are on yours and your back is against the door. He’s more firm than last time, your eyes closing slowly as you ease into his touch. Your hands tangle in his hair while he keeps a firm grip on your waist. You’re getting hot again, heart beating impossibly fast, and he’s barely pulling away, peppering your face with kisses before landing back onto your mouth. He’s so close, flush against your body and you’re dazed.

“I— I— finished…”

Colt doesn’t even bother to turn his face towards his brother as his face turns a bright red, only staring at your face while you quickly take care of the situation. “Really? Already?”

“Y- Yeah? What were you—“

“You didn’t see that, Falco.”

“How did he get you to—“

“You didn’t see anything.”

Colt grins while you usher Falco back to the living room. He follows you back, watching you give Falco a high five before greeting him goodbye. He doesn’t seem to be too weirded out, just a bit shocked. Falco still talks to you like normal, which is a relief, but he’ll have to talk to him later to be completely sure.

“I’m going to go talk to your brother again before you leave, alright?”

“I’m not stopping you from kissing my lonely brother, you know?”

“Huh—“

“Not that he’s a bad person or anything, but he doesn’t know how to word his feelings. And if you dated my brother, would you come over more often?”

“Probably, but I don’t know if he likes me?”

“He does,” Falco points to where the hallway meets the living room before repeating himself, “Don’t worry about that. He does.”

There, you see a peek of blonde hair, but it’s quickly gone. You go up to follow it, back to Colt’s room where he’s sitting in an office chair, pretending that he wasn’t just eavesdropping.

“7:00. Let’s go to the ice cream place at the beach I told you about a few weeks ago.”

He’s grinning so hard that his face starts to hurt, but you can’t see him. So you come closer, spinning to the office chair towards you, kneeling down and resting your arms in his lap. “Are you coming or not?” You ask, pouting as you start playing with his fingers.

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here.”

You grab his face in your hands, giving another deep kiss before you go. It’s hard to leave, especially when he’s pulling you into his lap, thumb stroking the side of your cheek, but you eventually pull him away, grabbing his hand while you two walk out together.

“You gotta take me home, though.”

“I don’t want to leave just yet.”

tags; @eyebags-swrites

[a-lost-crow]

I made a ROTBTD Modern Au based off one of my other doodles I did of them. And there’s a twist to the AU. They have powers just because

There’s infodump about it below if y’all want to see. At the end it’s just a whole section of Jack in the au because I latch onto that mf so much

Just like from the original movies, Jack and Rapunzel have their powers

BUT Rapunzel can cut her hair and still use her healing powers. As she uses her powers her hair regrows.

Jack’s hair turns white whenever he uses his ice powers. And in this AU there’s a different power system on how people can see him.

Some doodles will have hair gradients on them either because they’re using their powers or I just want to draw it like that lol

The group all met each other at a Drama class. 

They didn’t get all together until they had a heated debate about improvisation

Merida made a brain cell plush for the group to take turns on who gets the brain cell

They lost that plush

No one has brain cells now

Hiccup, Jack, and Rapunzel attend Merida’s volleyball competitions

Rapunzel fought with someone in one of them

Merida convinced the other three to try doing volleyball. And they found it a great activity to pass time with

Sometimes they mess around and cheat by using powers or just playing rough with the ball

Merida is so shocked that Rapunzel willingly wants to go to the nursing field. 

She always thought Rapunzel is more of an artsy type, but it turns out that Rapunzel would rather take care of people rather than to please them

Merida and Rapunzel constantly bond over mommy issues. They would cry over mother characters who show care to their children.

Hiccup and Rapunzel would draw their friends in incorrect quotes

Merida and Jack would call them the horse girl duo

The other two can’t even argue about that because it’s all true. No matter how much they deny it

Merida and Jack always have the caring sibling vibes because of their younger siblings

Though if either of the friend group gets in trouble for doing mischief, Merida will be blamed for it

Merida has a big influence especially on Hiccup and it shows

Like the doodle I drew, Hiccup found a way to ratio Jack in the meanest way possible

People believe that Hiccup grew a thicker skin because of Merida. That’s true and a fact.

Jack and Rapunzel can live longer due to their powers but Rapunzel is the only one showing signs of aging

Jack retorts by making Prince Phillip jokes to her

I oddly like writing this duo a lot huh

Both of them fight scary creatures and spirits because their powers destined them to do so

This is the section where I talk about Jack Frost because my brainrot of him is indeed real.

Just like Jack’s old story, he unfortunately died at a young age (14) by saving his sister from the breaking ice

He then got powers but the only difference is that people still see him because they knew him before

Jack is still invisible by people who don’t know him. But you can easily see him if you mention him or hear about him.

The Guardians still have their powers but altered for the AU (just assume I know what I’m doing at this)

So they just found this little shit the day he tried messing up Easter

They kept him around and eventually adopted him for some reason, 

Mostly because at the same day he messed up Easter, the Man in the Moon chose him to be the next guardian.

Like the original movie, he denied the request but eventually he succumb to being both a guardian and a family member

And yes it is the generic North is the dad, Tooth is the mom, and Bunny is the older brother

Both parents are teachers in a school Jack is in

The thing is that he just died around last year so he’s trying to get the hang of being immortal and watching life pass by him. 

And knowing that there are times that he can’t always save people.

Anyways he tries to find the ups of it like making a family of snowmen or snowball fights with kids

He’s often fond to see how kids are and the way they act. It sort of reflects his life being taken away so soon. And seeing kids being happy reminds him that they still have a long way to go.

That part is what made him accept himself being a guardian

108 notes on this and I’ll make a fanfic based off this au. Also if you have a question you can ask in the ask box (AND THAT I AM HYPERFIXATED IN THIS FOR SOME REASON)

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL

May 2021 Wk 2

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 12 fin - that was a long arse final ep, but solid performances. I liked that we focused on the fallout amongst the side characters. (Very clever of them to depict Chap with Tae, his Y-Destiny pairing. Especially as both actors are slated for new BL roles with different partners again, The Tuxedo and You’re My Sky.) The camera certainly enjoyed wallowing in Sib & Gene’s separation, but that’s an Asian drama for you. They like to DWELL. (Frankly, I like a bit of wallowing myself.) I thought the inclusion of the “actual” writer at the very end thoroughly unnecessary. I don’t think they had to beat us over the head with the 4th wall meta quite that much. Still, this is probably one of the best BLs we’re getting from non-GMMtV Thailand this year. RECOMMENDED 

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) I found the first half uninteresting but once Casper the Friendly Gay showed up it was fine. The ghost reminded me a bit of Fuse from MIR. 

Close Friend Ep 4: (Just One Life) - is it just me or is Talay insanely charismatic? Anygay, the director got ahold of a drone for this one and would like us to KNOW ABOUT THAT FACT. Look, I just don’t think YoonLay have great chemistry but this was alright, cute enough. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 6 - This was a better installment than we’ve had in a while. I like the obsession vs love explanation from Mork, insightful if creepy. Meen & Duean are okay, I guess. A bit annoying. Everyone in this show is a bit annoying. But the wipe toothpaste then wipe eye crud got to me. Toothpaste in the eye, yech! And then I was all, oh that’s basically this show: toothpaste in the eye. It just reviewed itself. (Also why do they keep switching aspect ratio between the two pairs? It’s like they were filming with two completely different camera types... oh. ah. Weird, GMMTV usually doesn’t make mistakes like that.) 

Call it What You Want Ep 6 fin - I skipped to the last ep on this, I told you I do that sometimes to find out what happened. So CIWYW ends happy for the main couple, but trigger warnings on: eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, depression, mental abuse, and a few other things. If you don’t mind your BL dark, gritty, self aware, and honest then you should be okay with this show. But if your preference is for fluff, then there are other fish in the sky. Speaking of... 

Nitiman Ep 2 - Giving me My Engineer vibes. This is OLD school Thai uni BL. I kinda feel like it was meant to come out in 2018, the gap year that was, but I am SO GRATEFUL we’re getting it now. Pay TF attention FUTS this is how you redeem a tsundere uke. Also I love that Bboom is just a terrible flirt and the football match twist was great. I love this show.  

Top Secret Together Ep 1 - it’s out there but no eng subs. It’s an office set romance with multiple couples all tangential to one building. A bit stilted and low production values but I’m intrigued. I hope we get subs... eventually.  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 9 - gets the safe sex gold star for lube + condoms AND a verse discussion? Not to mention asking for sex advice from queer fam? Is this a first in BL? Might be. (I still think it’s weird that product placement hasn’t jumped on the lube bandwagon, too slippery perhaps?) I like the embezzlement drama. I always enjoy good outside conflict playing to setting, and this is the kind to be easily resolved in next week’s finale. What a roller coster this series has been. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 5 - I LOVE THIS SHOW. A heartbeat after i thought, “they better address what he’s doing to the girls he’s dating,” they did it. Clever scripting that. The messaging is gorgeous, the idea that pride and media coverage and knowing about a changing world can broaden minds and lead to acceptance was basically Taiwan making a case for itself paving the way for marriage equality in Asia. Genius. 

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 1 (AKA 4) - dropped with subs and improved production values, someone is learning (or got more dough). The younger brother’s drama is a bit confusing, but I am here for cute boyfriends being cute boyfriends together. And I love that they took the seme’s previous pair (from Nation’s Brother) to be the faen fatale, very crafty of them. Even though it’s not a trope I like, there’s great chemistry all around. 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 6 - I weirdly love this show, okay? I’m just hoping Long has known Minh’s secret all along and is playing a reverse long con cat & mouse game, waiting for Minh to tell him the truth. Because that would be THE BEST. I could do without the faen fatale but ya can’t have everything. (I’m so glad it’s not the standard 6 ep arc, MOAR!!!) 

Gossip 

Rumor is GMMTV Thailand started shooting Baker Boys (here’s the teaser trailer). This is a remake of Antique (AKA Antique Bakery) a 2008 Korean movie (you can watch it on Viki) which is a remake of Antique (a 2001 Japanese series) with is an adaptation of wildly popular manga Antique Bakery. Knowing the plot I’m not sure this will qualify as BL. I’m still predicting Lee gets his first gay kiss in this series from Singto. More details about this series here. 

Breaking News

Love Area release pushed out, reportedly due to C19. (source DramaCool) 

Be Love In House: I Do (Taiwan, of course, with that title) got a new softer trailer (no subs). It drops next week, May 19, 2021 on Viki. All the information I have is here. 

Tangential to BL 

Two BL-adjacent shows, both from Taiwan. 

I’m watching Love is Science? on Viki which has a het foundation, but it’s a good one. There’s a BL side couple who are on an enemies to lovers slow burn trajectory; featuring a disaster bi slut meets elegant bad ass super gay. So there’s THAT. The mains are an older career woman and the sweet boy from her distant past who has pined for her for years. (He is the softest sweetest service sub you ever saw.) Props to Taiwan for a seriously underused het dynamic. As usual in Asian rom coms the straight boy love interest is a Perfect Cinnamon Role (yes I’m looking at you True Beauty & Love O2O) but I find Taiwan’s version more palatable than Korea’s or Mainland China’s. It’s not finished yet but... RECOMMENDED. 

Starting this week is Love Outlet a 50 (?!) episode show about a mall that sells relationships. It is supposed to have a main gay romance, but it might be a side dish. Very little else known about it. Coming to Line TV.

Honestly, I’m at the point where if Taiwan makes it, I’ll probably watch it. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Starting:

Be Loved In House: I Do (Taiwan) 

Golden Blood (Thailand) we think, like Love Area this may be delayed due to surging C19 cases 

Love Outlet (Taiwan) we think 

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[potteresque-ire]

Hi! I have been reading your posts and responses to anonymous and I am inclined to comment on your broadly realistic views and detailed analystic answers and let us not forget your ability to be warm in putting forward your opinions. I am truly a huge fan. Thank you for being a station for various answer seekers.

If you have time and patience, please elaborate on the situation GG is still facing post 227. Recently I read various comments insinuating GG copied DD for Douyin night which is absurd but the implication that only one party is still being targeted unnecessarily raise hackles of a lot of solo fans. And I, under any circumstances, DO NOT believe the involvement of the other party. Firm believer of BJYXSZD.

My point is what is being done to stop these antis from targeting GG. Since one of the motive to target GG is to severe the relationship of GG and DD, IMO at least. Does constant attack (external stimulus) on GG (belittling him by comparing him to DD) may have the possibility to effect their relationship (internal reaction)? Objectively yes, but given your perception of their relationship, what is your opinion in this matter, however subjective it may be?

Moreover, how much extreme and sometimes irrational analysis done by bjyx community can lead to harm to both of them especially GG?

Also, I have seen DD being the captain of BJYX in various circumstances but also throwing off people from their old predicted/maintened theories especially in case of Kadians. I am not sure how much to trust these 'candies' since he has a reputation of not giving a f*** of others opinion. So why would he post GG related or non-related content with same kadians. I mean if he posts private content with GG related kadian then why post promotional content with GG related kadian. Does it imply that kadians are related to GG or not or he doesn't care and we are thinking too much. I am not sure what I am writing now, maybe multitude of thoughts poring out here. I am extremely sorry for that.

I do not know whether people believe or not but 1st post by GG yesterday had initials YB in the circle. Not at all explicit, and depends on believers but I felt like he was just trolling BJYX, it may be good naturedly but after his promotional brand picture of shrimp in bunny's hand. I do not know I just felt, dissappointed/bitter/unsure about all of this. I think it is normal to feel this way from time to time even for SZD because along with emotional investment we have rational perspective which is necessary to scrutinize evidence(maybe) from time to time.

I whole heartedly apologize for writing an essay length ask, this is the reason I wanted your patience 😅.

If any other blogger wants to add or comment on this please feel free to do so. Your suggestions are highly welcomed. 🙏

Hello Anon!

I take it that your questions about safety are concerned about the behaviour of c-solos and c-turtles? International fans aren’t likely to put Gg and Dd at any risk. That said, however, frequent fighting among i-fans would likely drain Gg and Dd’s international fanbase, as many fans do not enjoy being a combative atmosphere (I, for one, will run away as quickly as a turtle can run!). Lost i-fans can’t be easily replenished, whether they’re turtles or solos ~ The Untamed, as a foreign language show so beloved that fans are willing to scale tall language and cultural barriers to understand it, isn’t something that comes around often. (stanning Gg and/or Dd does take a lot of work!)

About the arguments. I probably only know about a fraction of them since I do not interact directly with fans outside Tumblr . As far as I can tell, however, recent arguments among c-solos and c-turtles have been ordinary fights, and also, fairly “bi-directional” between the solos (ie. I don’t think Gg or Dd has been relatively exempt from attacks compared to each other). 

These arguments can be heated and some of the attacks may sound vicious, but there’s nothing much to worry about from a safety angle, as they haven’t caught the attention of those outside the fan circles.

The theorising by turtles are also not inherently dangerous. c-turtles have mostly been careful about keeping their discussions among themselves. The only risk it may lead to in the future, that I can think of right now, is the associated YiZhan content on China-based websites (ex. Bilibili, Douyin), which has become fairly plentiful. YiZhan candies used to be relatively obscure given the guidelines of CP fans to keep them among themselves (they call this practice 圈地自萌, literally, drawing a circle on the ground and have fun in it by oneself). These days, however, anyone who’s curious can get a good sense of YiZhan’s story by browsing Bilibili. 

This probably contributes to the continued growth of the turtle population; however, some of this content is created by non-turtles who seek viewership and have little concern over Gg and Dd’s safety. They are the ones who re-upload the BTS, for example, despite the repeated pleas and warnings by the “站姐”s—the superfans who take/purchase these videos—as well as the turtles to not do that. If these content creators go overboard, there’s a possibility that YiZhan content may get caught in the government’s “Eradicating Pornography and Illegal Publications”（掃黃打非) movement. The movement originated in the mid 2000s, and its recent waves have been used as pretext to remove LGBT+ and BL content on line (I will eventually set up a post re: those events). Just last month (2020 Dec), Bilibili has been explicitly named by the government for hosting questionable materials, which means it’s already under scrutiny. Sweeps performed on an entire website are usually broad-based enough that no specific individuals are targeted; however, the government also encourages, with financial incentives, the reporting of specific content and has set up a dedicated website for doing so. While all YiZhan content has no direct relation to Gg and Dd, removal of such content may cause an over-reaction from fans, which can, in turn, lead to accusations of poor fan management by Gg and Dd. Most people will also assume the YiZhan content to be created by turtles.

(Another example of how an alleged turtle mis-step can get the YiZhan fandoms and Gg and Dd tied to the 掃黃打非 movement: a few days ago, a Weibo post showed a photo of a hardcover version of an explicit BJYX fanfic, reportedly sold for profit, and GG haters were calling for an arrest for “illegal publication.” So far, there’s minimal noise on the issue, so it isn’t something to worry about. It can also be fake news, which is so bountiful on the platform and on every aspect of daily life that most die a very peaceful, very well-deserved death.).

Whether fan arguments / theories may affect Gg and Dd’s relationship (assuming they’re in a relationship) … my guess is, not much. Gg and Dd are busy people, unlikely to closely follow their fans’ discussions. Again, I expect effects to be felt only if the arguments get out of hand ~ as in, if they begin to involve the public and/or the government.

As for the question about what is being done to stop Gg being targeted: fan wars are incredibly common in China (as in everywhere else), and Gg and Dd’s aren’t special in that sense ~ it’s just that as turtles, we know about those surrounding Gg and Dd and they feel significant to us. No individuals can stop a fan war ~ all we can do is to not join these wars ourselves.

Personally, I think the international fan base of Gg and Dd, as solos and cpfs, have more chance to achieve peace than its Chinese counterparts — if they choose to want that. Popularity in China is not only quantified (which is likely true everywhere, by marketing departments), but very visibly so. Sales numbers, votes, traffic attributed to each idol are frequently released to the public, possibly to foster competition among fans and drive these numbers further upward. c-turtles’ demonstrated strong performance in pushing these metrics has made them a target to those who wish to have usurp their consumer power. They, therefore, have good reasons to be wary of anyone who try to sway them from their “turtle-ship”, whether to turn them into solos or to lure them into an entirely different fandom. The swaying messages are also not always obvious, not always a direct “your cp suck”.  They can be subtle, many even come from netizens who appear to be fellow turtles, who may say “oh, maybe we (turtles) are wrong” or “we have to be realistic; Gg and Dd will never look at each other publicly again”—messages that cast doubt and sink morale in a fandom that’s already running an uphill battle. Remember: traditionally, CP fandoms are not expected or welcomed to last, and solos have been happy to (correctly) point out that the BTS, the origin of the most solid “evidences” of BJYXSZD, are getting older by the day. c-turtles can’t expect anyone else to help defend their ship if something happens, given CP fandoms’ lack of respectability, given YiZhan being a real person M/M pairing that is often frowned upon. So it’s understandable, to me at least, why c-turtles are on guard, and occasionally, clash with those who they feel may be trying to take away what they love.

i-turtles, I feel, don’t have that many reasons to fight. We don’t really have other fandoms (for example, the up and coming danmeis—the adapted BL dramas) vying for our attention (and wallets). No one can put an expiration date on the YiZhan communities except ourselves.

Another way to see this is: we—as in, the combined Gg + Dd international fanbase, the solos + CPFs—are lucky in a way the fans in Gg and Dd’s home country are not. Collectively, we’re much further removed from the pressure to perform as fans, which is immense in China with their fan circle culture and fan economy. i-shrimps and i-motorcycles ~ some of you are reading this, I think? (hello!) ~ here are my humble thoughts: the solo/turtle ratio of Gg and Dd’s international fans doesn’t make much of an impact on Gg and Dd’s star status, on the popularity metrics that matter. Our spending power is limited outside China’s borders, and while Gg and Dd likely love us equally as fans, our adoration for them doesn’t really matter much, if at all, to the production/media/commercial companies that control the trajectories of their careers. 

Along this line, the turtles’ “double loyalty” doesn’t have much of an ill effect, because there are few popularity contests here that mean much; few times (if any) when the turtles must face the dilemma of whether to vote for Gg or Dd because only a single vote is allowed; few situations where they have only x amount of dollars and must split it equally between Gg or Dd’s endorsements. There’s also much less cause to worry that i-turtles may draw the attention, or ire of the Chinese government ~ the whole international fanbase is too far away, too spread out to destabilise the regime in any way.

What the turtles do have in common with you, the solos, is their knowledge, their love for Gg/Dd. Knowledge, in particular. The people who know about Gg/Dd are still far and in between—at where I am, at least, and my guess is, it’s likely true for many of you too. Think of the turtles as people who you can talk to about your favourite star in places where few people know about him, can help promote The Untamed  far and wide—many people still haven’t heard of the show, and they deserve to.

For the turtles ~ no one can take away our turtle-ship identity, as long as we don’t give it away. No one can report on the our communities to the government and get them dissolved. Our votes, our spending habits are no one else’s business but ours here.

So, Anon, here’s what I think, and these are all very personal opinions, very personal decisions on how to navigate fandom …

I truly hope that we, as the international fanbase, can try to use this luck that we have. Make our communities not mere copies of their (combative) Chinese counterparts but something different, something with our own flavour, something with more peace and less fighting.

Specifically, I see little cause to try to persuade/dissuade anyone to be a solo/turtle. I find them… not the best use of time. Why? Because frankly, neither solos nor turtles have a better grasp of who Gg and Dd are. Neither solos nor turtles have a truly good grasp of who Gg and Dd are. These discussions are therefore bound to end up with more ill will than conclusions, since both sides are short of facts.

We’re all short of facts as audiences, who’ve all only seen a tiny sliver of who Gg and Dd are as human beings.

I don’t mean Gg and Dd’s star image is fake ~ it’s just that, their star image is their “work face”, and even I, a lowly turtle, must act somewhat differently in my own office. It’s part of being professional.

Gg and Dd’s star image are their professional face, and no professionals worth a salt truly ignore other’s opinions, especially when the profession is being an entertainer whose job is to face and hold the attention of the public. 

This is true for Gg; this is true for Dd.

Social media accounts are also part of Gg and Dd’s professional face ~ whatever is posted on there will be scrutinised by millions of fans, and they know that. The posts do provide some insights about Gg an Dd’s personalities, but they can’t be expected to show a complete picture. No parts of these posts, therefore, whether it’s the content or the kadians, are sufficient evidences for / against any aspect of their personal lives (especially as private an aspect as their romantic lives). Anon, you mentioned promotional marketing materials, and here’s my understanding of them ~ ambassadors such as Gg and Dd have minimal control over their design. The shrimp-holding bunny you’re referring to, for example, is very likely provided by the company.

However, may I also add this? Please try to not think of the shrimps / motorcycles as enemies of the turtles. Millions of people are behind each of these labels, and true for any group of this size, a fraction of its members are bound to be annoying. A small fraction may be awful, even. But they don’t represent the entire group. The shrimps are not only Gg’s fans, many of them have supported him longer than any turtle (since turtle-ship can’t be older than 2018); they’re also the reasons why Gg is in the industry ~ they voted for him in X-Fire. Likewise, a subset of motorcycles have been with Dd since UNIQ; they were there when the Korean ban effectively dissolved his group; they stuck with him when he was attacked for taking on the role of LWJ.

We’re all Gg and Dd’s fans, if you ask people outside the fandom. Remember: few outside China understand why heated arguments can occur between a bunch of shrimps, turtles and motorbikes. (It sounds a bit kafkaesque, just typing it out.)

It’s important not to lose sight too, that Gg and Dd’s social media accounts, where many new candies are found, primarily function as bridges of communication between them and their fans. These accounts do have different degrees of “professionalism” ~ Weibo and the official accounts being more formal, and Oasis, Douyin being more laid back and intimate; still, they all serve similar purposes. They’re not candy generators, or a script Gg and Dd have an obligation to follow to confirm / refute BJYXSZD.

Also: these accounts are accessible and watched by the public, not all of whom are friendly to Gg and Dd.

Re: Gg’s drawing on Oasis. He used the account as it’s intended for—to interact with his fans (the caption of the first draft was an unspoken invitation to shower him with ideas) and maybe, to show off a little (it was a very nice piece of artwork ~ a comment that I, sadly, haven’t seen much of). I doubt he posted his drawing because he wanted fans to carpet-search for traces of Dd in it (even though he probably expected that would happen); I very much doubt he posted his drawing because he wanted his fans to fight over scratch marks or black dots.  

If these fights keep happening, I can imagine a possible outcome. He’ll stop showing us his drawings. His social media accounts will become less and less personal, as they already have.

I’ll share with you my thoughts about candies too, while I’m at it. These are probably not-so-popular opinions, so please take them all with a grain of salt.(Salted caramels? 😊 )

I haven’t looked at why candies are called candies, but I find the name appropriate for how I think of them ~ candies are 1) neither evidences or truth, 2) sweet, 3) treats (non-essential, not like the main course).

The first point is, perhaps, the one I try the hardest to keep in mind. There are posts out there claiming the candies as made-beliefs—generated from edited pictures or videos, exaggerated translations, and their interpretations forced by “guidances” in the annotations/narration. There are also posts claiming that turtles are deceivers, or have been deceived by brainwashers who maliciously created these make-beliefs. A turtle may assume these posts are all lies, all made by antis. 

But, speaking turtle-to-turtle, I’d venture to say this … there’s some truth in the *first* statement. Many candies do, indeed, taste different if their taster returns to the original source—not necessarily unsweet, but less sweet. Candies, remember, are generated by fans like you and I. Same for c-candies ~ they aren’t endorsed by Gg and Dd, aren’t necessarily closer to the truth just because of the relative proximity of their birthplaces to their leads. 

Candy generation is The Tradition of CP fandoms. It’s a celebrated skill, and who doesn’t want to generate a candy that will be talked about, that will be part of the BJYX canon, for as long as the fandom lasts? Some fans are, therefore, also more … efficient in the “marketing” of the candies they generated — in persuading others that their candies are evidences, the truth. “Guidance” photos and videos (which pinpoint the place to watch, sometimes with appropriate sound effects for emphasis) have come about that way, and because they’re easy to digest—especially where language barriers exist—they end up spreading to i-fandoms.

These photos and videos may look more professional / trustworthy, but they often have an additional layer of subjectivity ~ on top of the already subjective opinion of what makes a candy. Translations (of BTS, fake rumours house content etc) also introduce a subjective element. Word choices can significant modify the tone of a conversation; speakers of different Chinese dialects may also have different interpretations of the same phrases. Example: I, as a non Chongqing/Sichuanese speaker, can guess the literal meaning of the “puppy” term Gg used for Dd — 狗崽崽 (gou zai zai) — but I also had to rely on others to tell me how endearing the term is; me being a Chinese speaker actually doesn’t make my interpretation any more valid, or authoritative, in this scenario, because my dialect doesn’t use this term at all. 

It doesn’t mean the people who’ve put in the work have any less-than-good intent; the vast majority of them come from a place of deep love. It’s just that we all carry our own perspectives, and as fans, our strong emotions in our fanworks.

This is why candies are often insufficient as good “points” for arguments, why they fail to convince non-believers, sometimes to the disappointment of some turtles. As evidences, they aren’t objective enough; they’re also often touch upon the assumption that’s mark the fundamental difference between solo and cp fans — the assumption that Gg and Dd are (not) together. Take, for example, this segment from a (polite) ask I got from an anon solo:

All the matching clothes, jewelry, shoes etc. Stopped being valid candy when I realized that the brands have popular stars "endorse" their products. The lightning pendant? Other actors have also worn it. Does that mean they are in a 3-way with (Gg) and (Dd)? Probs not.

Solo anon was correct! Brands have star endorsers, and other entertainers have, indeed, worn the same lightning pendant. The implied argument is also valid: people who don’t care about, don’t even know about each other can wear the same things. Most of us do that on a daily basis with our mass-produced garments.

However, a counterargument can also be made to the statement above, and easily: even the most precious, most beautiful wedding rings (say, from Tiffany!) are not exclusive to the first RL couple who bought them. It doesn’t mean the first RL couple is sleeping with all the couples who bought the same rings afterwards, doesn’t mean those rings aren’t significant to every one of these couples as romantic mementos. More often than not, couples wear matching things not because these things are exclusive to them—because how often can one find things that only exist as a single pair in this world? They wear matching things because they want to see something on themselves that remind them of their significant other and so, as long as the things aren’t so prevalent that everyone is wearing them, they can already serve their purpose.

But you see, Anon, that arguing over this would’ve been a waste of time? Because the solo came in with the assumption that Gg and Dd were not a couple, and the counterargument was made with the assumption that they were. The pendants alone are insufficient to prove either side correct or wrong. No one knows why those pendants ended up on Gg and Dd’s necks, except Gg and Dd and their teams. If I were to argue with anon solo, we can go on and on and on until we’re both left with bitter tastes in our mouths and WWX-red in our eyes, and forget the one thing that really matters: we’re both Gg’s fans.

(We could’ve spent the time talking about how that scene in The Wolf with Ji Chong throwing Zai Xing in the water is ❤️.) (I can’t believe the script waited 30+ episodes to do it. 😂)

This leads to my second point, Anon. Candies are meant to be sweet, and they’re meant to be sweet for you. In Chinese, a term for an expert candy person is a 嗑學家 (the candy-eating in CP fandoms is called 嗑糖 (ketang) ～ with 嗑 ke denoting a specific form of eating that requires breaking something open first with teeth—such as watermelon seeds; a 嗑學家 is a 嗑 (ke)-ologist). A 嗑學家 isn’t someone who can recall the longest list of candies, or spread the most candies around, or convince the most people that the CP behind the candies is real; they are those who can find their own candies in a source material, and be overjoyed by the sweetness of their discoveries without outside help. To me, at least, this term encapsulates the subjective nature of candies ~ what’s right for you may not be right for me and vice versa, and that’s perfectly all right. In other words, there are many candies out there but you’re not required to believe in all of them; instead, you’re free to choose candies to your own liking, compose your own version of the BJYX canon that you love, that you find sweet.

Wait, but you may say. Doesn’t that make my canon fantasy? Yes and no, because candies are based on real events. They’re interpretations, which sit somewhere between reality and fantasy. They’re like … opinion shows on news channels.

But what if I need to convince people of my canon —

Your “opposition”’s canon is as fantastical, and as real as yours — maybe it isn’t, but neither of you have a way to prove it one way or another.

Wouldn’t solos call me delulu, or clowns?

Maybe. But one step outside the fandom, and all of us fans—solo and cpfs—are delulu, clowns.

(That’s why while I’ve used the cpn label, I haven’t called myself delulu, or a clown. Anyone who thinks I have the truth about the love story about a pair of idol I haven’t met from thousands of miles away … the joke’s probably on them, don’t you think?)

Of course and again, Anon, this is only my take! I like candies precisely because I like to watch the real-time generation of candies, which ones different people claim as their own, which candies fall away and which stick around in the fandom over time. As a fic writer, this ship has gifted me with a treasure trove of information ~ what do people think of as romantic gestures, as give-away signs of love? The fun/amazing part of BJYX is that candies are available for so many different answers to these questions. Some people think of longing gazes and sweet smiles; some think of touches that can’t be helped (the many, many, many “fights”); some think of service (buying foods, designing clothes); some think of caring about the other’s well-being (throat candies and dumplings + noodles + crackers); some think of being The Other’s One and Only Exception (Dd being so talkative around Gg, Gg being so … fussy around Dd); some think of expressions through the arts (songs, drawings, dances); some think of grand gestures (the wave heart in the ocean); some think of matching clothes and symbolic accessories (rings); some think of birthdays and anniversaries (314, 622, the first snow); some think of sharing life’s hassles and small tidbits (fake rumour house); some think of … just looking VERY good together. Etc etc.

Some think of a subset of these, some think of all of these…

(Personally, I’m a very picky candy eater. I know about many of them, but only a small fraction impresses on me.)

(Still, I love watching candies. I love watching the joy of people sweetened by them ~ or, when c-turtles exclaim kswl! — the short form of ke si wo le! 嗑死我了! I “ke”ed so much I’m dying!)

This gets to 3), Anon, and I apologise to you too, for answering your not-essay-at-all with an essay! Candies are, to me, treats, and I don’t expect them to come at any frequencies higher than treats do. The reason isn’t because I don’t like candies ~ I enjoy watching them, as I said, even if I don’t eat many of them; the reason is because I don’t expect anyone’s romantic love to leave a trace in everything they do. For example, if I truly find myself in a SZD/SJD discussion re: Gg’s drawing, I’d say the lack of Dd in Gg’s self-portrait doesn’t really mean much. Even if Gg and Dd were head-over-heels in love with one another, Gg doesn’t have to put Dd in everything he touches. Likewise, Dd doesn’t have to present a consistent, or decipherable story with his kadians. This is true for the real-life couples around us too, isn’t it? They don’t perform every single act in life leaving a noticeable trace of their significant other. And the misunderstanding that couples do that — that their romantic lives take over who they are as individuals — IMO, partially explains why people who choose to not to date or marry, people who’re aro-aces, often have a difficult time convincing others that they’re complete humans. Romantic love is, of course, very, very important and can be life altering, but it also isn’t everything about a person ~ especially not if a person who has a career as exciting as Gg’s and Dd’s. Gg and Dd who also have friends, family, (many) talents and interests …

(And lots of ugly icons on their cell phones. Yes, I’m talking about you, Gg. That long-armed Pepe from your 2018 snowless Beijing post will give me nightmares…)

[coruscantguard]

Endless Night, Half a Sliver of Light

Requested by @roborails

Fox and Ahsoka for #98- “You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”  

*

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table reads 02:09.

Nighttime on the Coruscant Guard’s ship is much quieter than she’s used to it being on the Resolute. It makes sense, since it’s a smaller ship, and there are less people on it, but the quiet still puts her on edge. In her experience, quiet is rarely a good thing

Barriss would disagree with that, but Barriss also reads ancient texts on Force philosophy in her free time, and eats space waffles without cooking them, so Ahsoka is inclined to disregard her opinion here.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table has progressed to read 02:10.

The Guard’s ship is also quieter than the Temple, but in a less tangible way for anyone who is not Force-sensitive. While the Temple tends to be quiet and peaceful, the Force is always very alive in it. There’s a feeling of home that comes with all those strong Force signatures, and it’s an eternal reminder that she’s not alone. That as a Jedi, she’ll never have to truly be alone in the galaxy.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table now reads 02:11.

Her attempts to go to sleep and the ever present quiet aren’t mixing in a way that’s conducive to her getting any shuteye. The briefing ended hours ago.  She’s still awake.

The clock on Ahsoka’s bedside table still reads 02:11.

Ahsoka groans, buries her face into her pillow, and lets out a muffled scream.

The embarrassment from her little social mishap earlier is hitting full force now that the planning is done for the night, and she has nothing to distract herself with. She’s been wallowing in it, she knows that. Her attachment to those feelings is the furthest thing from productive, and she should be releasing it into the Force. There’s nothing she can do to correct the situation until morning comes.

She should release it to the Force. It's helping no one, and making her feel worse. She really should release it to the Force.

She’s not releasing it to the Force.

Master Anakin felt that Senator Amidala needed additional security, kriff’s sake, Ahsoka. Did she seriously say that? Force, it’s like all of Master Obi-Wan’s diplomacy training just flew out the window. And all the basic manners the Temple taught her.

“Ahsoka, you utter di’kut,” she mutters, and rolls over, flopping her legs off her bunk. The room is small enough that her feet can nearly brush the opposite wall, and she uses her toes to inch her torso off the bed until she can. Heck yes.

Not that he thinks you guys can’t handle it, her brain reminds her, efficiently quenching any joy that her victory brought. It’s just, well, Master has this thing about Senator Amidala, because like, they’re really close friends, right? So--

She groans again, and reaches a hand out to grab her pillow so she can smother herself with it. Right now, suffocation sounds like a great way to go.

Knight Skywalker, I regret to inform you that your padawan has joined the Force because she is a karking laserbrain who keeps putting her shoe on the other side of her mouth.

When Ahsoka pulls the pillow off her face, she’s disappointingly still in the land of the living, and the clock on her bedside table now just says 02:13. She manages to resist the urge to chuck the pillow at said clock, instead opting to throw it at the wall in front of her.

The pillow bounces off the control panel, and her door hisses open. The pillow falls to the ground by her feet, and Ahsoka forces herself to close her eyes, take a few seconds to breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Release your anger to the Force, young padawan. Do not use the Force to pick up your pillow and slam it into the clock, young padawan. Vandalism is not the Jedi way.

When she’s sufficiently managed to breathe through most of her anger and annoyance, she opens her eyes again.

Ahsoka calmly looks at her now open door. She looks at the pillow on the ground. She looks back at the door. Then back to the pillow. Then back at the door.

Well. There’s no way she’s going to sleep at this rate. Might as well see if anyone else is up.

She manages to pull herself up from her half on the bed, half off it position without using her hands, lets out a silent cheer in the form of a fist pump, and pops her head out of her room to look around. There’s nothing to the left, but when she swivels her head to the right, she sees some kind of faint yellow light at the end of the hallway, where the officer’s lounge is.

It’s as good of a sign as any, so Ahsoka grabs her lightsaber, clips it to her belt, and leaves her room. As she makes her way down the ship’s hallway, she instinctively reaches out with the Force to get a sense of what she’s walking into.

She senses only one other presence nearby, and one that flows easily with the jigsaw pattern of the world around her. With a bit of concentration, she’s able to catch sight of a flash of gunmetal grey, which makes it easy to figure out who the presence is.

Commander Fox’s Force presence is unassuming, both in it’s color and it’s general feel. Unlike Anakin, who’s Force presence was more akin to a supernova, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard’s presence was steady, unwavering, slightly darker than most non-Force sensitives tended to feel, but not enough to actually be concerning. The only thing that’s even remotely odd is the lack of color around him, but that’s not bad either, just different.

The door slides open automatically as she reaches the end of the hall, and the adjacent lounge. She silently slips inside, and the sound of flimsi rustling greets her.

Fox is sitting at a table near the back of the room, head bowed, presumably reading the pile of flimsiwork in front of him. On one side of the table, his bucket sits beside his elbow, and on the other side, there’s a cup of what at least smells like caf to Ahsoka. She realizes, belatedly, that this is the first time she’s ever seen him without his bucket on.

He looks old. Tired. Like he’s Master Obi-Wan’s age, not Skyguy’s. Not that Master Obi-Wan is old, of course, but… whatever. Moving on.

“Commander Fox,” she greets, and steps further into the room. He looks up from the flimsiwork, but thankfully doesn’t bother saluting.

“Commander Tano,” Fox says, and he slides his bucket closer to him as he stands up. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m not… looking for anything,” she replies quickly. “I saw the light, and I got curious.”

Fox nods, and another spike of guilt gnaws her. She does her best to ignore it. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he says, and it’s with a practiced politician’s calm that Ahsoka recognizes from her time around Senators Chuchi and Amidala. “There’s caf by the stove, if you’re in the mood.”

Caf. Kriff yes. Skyguy would never give her caf at 2am.

It takes three tries to find the cabinet that has mugs in it, and she pulls out the biggest one. As she starts to pour the caf into her mug, she looks over at the table. Fox has sat back down, and he looks just as engrossed in the pile of flimsi as he had when she came in.

Ahsoka finishes filling her mug, adjusts the sugar-to-caf ratio so it’s drinkable, and takes a small sip. It’s on the edge of being too hot, but it doesn’t actually burn her mouth, so she deems it satisfactory. She turns back to face Fox, and asks, “What are you working on?”

He doesn’t spare her a glance as he answers, “Reports, mostly. There’s never an end to the flimsiwork when the Senate gets involved.”

“Oh,” she says. Fox picks up a stylus, sets a stack of flimsi to the side, and moves onto another piece of flimsiwork. ...Right. Okay. Time to entertain herself. She can do that.

Her eyes dart around the room. Military sparse, nothing unusual. The lights are only half on, upon closer inspection. There’s nothing particularly remarkable around.

Carefully, she nudges herself up onto her tiptoes, and glances over Fox’s head at the flimsiwork. It’s all just words and numbers, none that catch her attention, and she’s about to look away when Fox moves the next piece of flimsi over. This one is different in that it has a photo on it.

It’s a portrait shot of a man, like what one would find on an ID card. He looks older than her, but not by too much, and vaguely familiar in the way many beings look due to all the different planets she’s visited. There’s something about this one that she knows, though, and she focuses harder on that knowledge, wracks her memory trying to connect the navpoints. Young, clean-cut, memorable but still one in a crowd-- “Is that one of Senator Organa’s aides?”

Fox doesn’t jump at the interruption, or react to her prying, just gives her a cursory glance before turning back to the flimsi. “Yes, Christoforos Massimo, de domo Mac Ghabhann.” Fox replies, and his voice is clipped, but not to the point of being rude. “He was one of Senator Organa’s aides. He’s also the third senatorial aide to die of mycotoxin poisoning in the last year.”

Oh. She looks back at the photo, lets herself feel the dull throb of regret that follows. It’s not-- she didn’t know him, not well enough to know his name, but all life is important, and she did recognize him. That’s something. It’s always something.

Still, he’s with the Force now, so she lets herself feel, but then she makes herself let it go. He’s not gone, not truly. No one ever is.

Ahsoka eventually takes another sip of her caf, and runs Fox’s words through her brain again. Mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin poisoning, mycotoxin-- “Wait, isn’t that poison that has cerulean slime mold in it?”

Fox signs something, then nods. The signature is longer than she would’ve expected, but she’s unable to read it, as he swiftly places the flimsi at the bottom of the stack. “The mold’s name is technically kytrogorgia, but, yes.”

“That’s evidence of foul play, right?”

“Not definitively,” he says, and takes a sharp breath in, slowly lets it out. “There can be accidental deaths because of it, but it’s rare to find naturally occurring on Coruscant.”

“Huh.”

Ahsoka goes back to drinking her caf, keeping her face by the mug so the heat of it warms her face. Poisonings. Huh. It makes sense that the Guard would deal with that, she just… never thought of it.

The silence of the ship is… odd. Besides the distinctive hum of hyperspace, and the scratching of Fox’s stylus, it’s quiet, a quiet she hasn’t experienced much since leaving the creche. Fox evidently has no issue with it.

She shouldn't have an issue with it.

“Doesn’t that mold smell like overripe kakadu fruit?” She suddenly asks. “I think Obi-Wan mentioned something about it a few weeks ago.”

“It has a relatively distinctive bitter citrine smell, yes.”  Fox stops writing, and turns to look at her. She takes a sip of caf. “...Is poison a regular topic of discussion for the Jedi?”

Ahsoka pauses, thinking about it. “Not really,” she says. “I mean, we have an elective class on it, but that’s about it. Obi-Wan just likes that kind of stuff, you know, molds and rare species of worms and the like. It drives Skyguy up the wall.”

Fox makes a noncommittal sound, turns back to the flimsi, and starts writing again. “Sounds like one of my brothers.”

Ahsoka snickers. Then, carefully, remembering Barriss’s last comm call, and the look on her face when she mentioned the flesh-eating moths the 41st ran into, she asks, “Is there any chance that brother is Commander Gree of the 41st Elite Corps?”

Fox doesn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitch. “No comment,” he says dryly, confirming her hunch.

“Do you think Massimo was murdered?” Ahsoka asks, and her voice is quieter than she means it to be. Fox frowns, but he doesn’t comment immediately, so she leans in over his shoulder to get a closer look at the report. “This could all just be a coincidence.”

“It could be,” Fox agrees. “But when the Senate’s involved, assuming something is a coincidence usually ends with someone like Aurra Sing showing up, as it’s actually part of some larger conspiracy.” He grimaces. “Still, I don’t like the look of this, so lets hope you’re right.”

It’s not an actual answer to her question, but she doesn’t press, just hums in acknowledgement, and steps away. She moves to the other side of the table, and sets her mug down on it, then walks over to the stacks of chairs against the far wall. It’s easy to pull one off the top, and carry it back to the table, let it thunk down on the durasteel floor. She’s mentally weighing the merits of sitting down against those of raiding the pantry for snacks when a flash of movement catches her eye.

“What was that?” She asks, and moves forward, eyes scanning the officer’s lounge, montrals straining to pick up any noise.

“Hm?”

There’s another burst of movement seconds later, a pitter-patter of paws accompanied by a blur of fur, ears, and a large fluffy tail that quickly disappears under the sofa. She must’ve disturbed it when she moved the chair.

“Is there any chance that there’s a loth cat on this ship?”

Abruptly, Fox’s stylus stops moving. “What?”

Ahsoka cranes her head to the side, trying to catch sight of the blur again. “I think I just saw a loth cat.”

Silence. Then-- “Is it grey?”

She opens her mouth to reply right as the blur comes speeding out from under the couch, and she barely twists out of the way in time as it launches itself at the table. It lands on the table with a thump, and turns to look at her for a second, accessing.

Then it moves over to the flimsiwork, and rubs its head against Fox’s hand and stylus, before flopping down on the flimsi, and starting to purr.

Ahsoka stares at it silently for a minute, then bursts out giggling. “Yeah, it looks to be a grey cat,” she somehow manages to say. “Why do you ask?”

Fox sighs. “Commander Thire apparently has less sense than I thought he did,” he says, and he’s staring at the grey loth cat as well, a look of resigned exasperation etching away at his bland facade of indifference. The cat rubs its head on Fox’s bucket.

Ahsoka snorts, then pauses, frowning. She leans in, and-- “Isn’t this Senator Chuchi’s cat?

She examines the cat further. It blinks it’s yellow eyes at her. “This is definitely Senator Chuchi’s cat.”

Fox sighs again. “Yes,” he replies, his voice long-suffering. “If I’m remembering correctly, her name is Mayday.”

“Mayday?” Ahsoka questions, wrinkling her nose. Weird. “Why would the Senator name her cat after a distress signal?”

“Why indeed,” Fox says, and he looks pained, but nothing in his Force presence backs that up. All she can sense around him is a feeling of vague indifference. It’s mildly disconcerting.

“Why is Senator Chuchi’s cat on one of the Guard’s ships?” She asks, turning her attention back to more important things. The cat- Mayday is now stretching on the table. Ahsoka is pretty sure loth cats aren’t usually supposed to be on tables, but Fox doesn’t seem to care, so, whatever.

“Why indeed,” Fox repeats, and reaches a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes closed. “Force. If I run into Thire anytime soon, it’s going to end in property damage.”

Right as he’s lowering his hand, the loth cat’s tail flicks up, and hits him straight in the face. Ahsoka clasps her hands over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but she’s not very successful in that endeavor. Fox’s eyes are still shut when he sighs, and it’s a sigh that reinforces the expression of long-suffering pain on his face. Then he reaches one hand up to scratch behind Mayday’s ears.

It takes away from the dramatics of the sigh, but Mayday seems to like it, so Ahsoka lets it slide. The cat’s tail flicks again, and this time it hits the underside of Fox’s neck, drawing her attention to the edge of a scar--

“Sithspit, what the kark happened to your throat?” She blurts out, her jaw dropping. There’s an ugly scar across it, deep and painful looking, like someone tried to literally slit his throat, and very nearly succeeded.

“Well, it’s a funny story,” Fox says, and his voice is as dry as the Geonosis desert. He looks up from Mayday to meet Ahsoka’s eyes. “Someone tried to slit my throat.”

Ahsoka stifles a snort. Oh man, the 501st better work a mission with the Guard soon. Anakin and Fox would get along like a spaceship on fire that ends up exploding. It would be friendship at first dramatic understatement.

Fox gives Mayday a few more pets, then steps backwards, away from the table, and gestures at Ahsoka. It takes her a few seconds to realize what he’s getting at, but when she does, she wastes no time taking the spot he abandoned.

She moves so that she’s a bit farther back than Fox had been-- he obviously had a history with Mayday that she lacked-- and crouches down so that she’s eye level with the cat. Once it meets her eyes, she forces herself to blink as slowly as possible, the closed eyes a silent gesture of trust and vulnerability.

Mayday blinks slowly back at her.

Kriff yes, kriff yes, kriff yes!

She holds out her hand, moving her head slightly to the side to make her gaze less intense, and it takes all her Jedi training not to cheer as Mayday comes to nuzzle her hand. Force, would the Resolute be a safe environment for a loth cat? Surely they could make it safe, right?  A cat would undoubtedly help improve morale. Maybe she could convince Senator Chuchi to let her borrow Mayday when she pitches the idea to Skyguy and Rex, just to help sway their support to her cause.

“The nape of her neck,” Fox says, interrupting her planning. “Or the small dip behind her left ear. Stay away from her tail unless you’d like her to claw your face off, though.”

Nape of neck. She could do that. “Speaking from experience?”

Fox actually huffs a laugh at that. “Let’s just say that Vice Chair Amedda and the concept of respecting personal boundaries get along in the same way that Senator Amidala gets along with Viceroy Gunray.”

Ahsoka stops petting Mayday, and spins around to look him in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I have to give kudos to his medical team. Those scratches definitely should’ve scarred.”

“Force, seriously?” He nods, and Ahsoka grins, not even bothering to try and hide her teeth. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that guy. That’s hilarious.”

“The Chancellor thought so as well,” Fox says offhandedly, and crosses his arms, leans back against the counter. “I mean, he muffled his laughter quickly, but…”

“Sith hells,” she breathes out. “I think I might want to be on Senate rotation more often, if that’s what goes down there.”

Fox winces, takes a sharp breath in, and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, that sort of incident rarely happens. Usually, it’s just a lot of yelling.” He pauses, looks over her shoulder, and, “I think Mayday may have taken our lack of attention personally.”

Ahsoka spins around, and sure enough, the grey cat is jumping off the table, and heading for the door. “Awwwwwwwwwww, no,” she says, disappointed.

They watch Mayday leave the room in silence. Once the door hisses shut behind her, Ahsoka goes back around the table, and slumps into her chair. Fox pulls out his comm with a sigh, and heads for the caf machine, picking up his mug on the way.

Whoever he calls picks up almost instantaneously.

“Senator Chuchi’s loth cat is on board. We need to keep it from the airlock and the hyperdrive. I’m putting you and Candor on cat-sitting duty.” He says, and starts to pour the caf into his cup. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t say anything, then, “Rocket, that’s an order, not a request. If you have an issue with this beyond the fact that you don’t want to, you can file a complaint, and Internal Affairs will look into it. But I warn you, if you interrupt Swan’s leave with a complaint about how this isn’t what you were made for, he won’t be merciful when he rips you a new one.”

The pause is longer this time. “Yes, well, Lieutenant Swan will learn the concept of mercy around the same time that Tatootine freezes over,” Fox says, and he sets the caf pot back down. “I trust you know where to find any supplies needed?”

This pause is only for a moment, presumably how long it takes the trooper on the other end to say yes, sir! Fox replies with a, “Fox out,” then hangs up the comm, sighs, and takes a long gulp of caf. Ahsoka pauses, briefly considers the possible consequences for her next words, and decides that it’ll be worth it.

“You’re actually a big softie, aren’t you?”  

“What.” Unfortunately, he doesn’t spit out the caf, but he does do a double take. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry, what.”

She does her best to put on an innocent looking expression. “Oh man, you totally are.”

“...Commander Tano, as you chose your next words, I’d advise that you keep in mind the fact that I can put you on cleaning duty if I feel like it.”

“Ugh,” Ahsoka grumbles, dropping the charade. “Wait. No? We’re both Commanders. I could just put you on cleaning duty right back.”

Silence that follows that statement. Fox’s face is unreadable. “Have you read the regs?”

Uh-oh. “Why are you asking?

“Have you?”

Kriff kriff kriff kriff-- “How about… I’d like to invoke the fourth right of sentience?”

“Force, Commander,” Fox’s tone sounds similar to the one Kix uses when he’s exasperated. Ahsoka winces reflectively, because an exasperated Kix is not a fun Kix. “First of all, when you’re invoking a right, don’t make it sound like a question. You’re not asking to invoke your right, you’re not saying that you’d like to invoke it, you are invoking it.”

“Are you seriously--”

“And secondly, just say that you’re invoking your right to remain silent. I applaud you for remembering exactly what right it is, but it’s usually best to be as direct as possible in these matters. First and fourth sound alike enough in Basic that you could run into some real trouble if an officer “mishears” you, and the right to be free from slavery is not helpful when you’ve allegedly committed murder in the first.”

“You don’t need to tell me this, I’m not a youngling.”

“You sure about that?” Ahsoka glares at him, and opens her mouth to retort, but Fox cuts her off again. Kriffing chizk. “Thirdly, yes, I am the highest ranking officer here. Jedi Commanders have authority over everyone up to and including Clone Captains. They’re subordinate to Clone Commanders and Jedi Generals”

“...Right,” she says, “I… totally knew that.”

“Really.”

“Yes!”

There’s no verbal response, but Fox rests his elbow on his bucket, and blinks at her.

“I did!” She protests. The look on his face tells her that he doesn’t buy a second of it.

...Okay, time to move on. “Anyway, the fact that you’re my superior officer doesn’t mean that you aren’t also a big softie.”

His eye roll is unnecessary, and completely overdramatic. “There are a fair amount of people that would disagree with that assessment of Commander Fox’s character.”

Oh thank Force, he’s willing to go along with it.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s a good thing Commander Tano isn’t asking those people then, huh?” Ahsoka sends back. Then she pauses to take a sip of her caf. “Now, is there a reason Commander Fox hasn’t actually answered Commander Tano’s original question yet?”

A beat of silence.

“Osik, you got me there,” Fox says, and Ahsoka lets out a whoop of celebration at the small victory. “Don’t go spreading it around, I have a reputation to uphold.”

She mimes locking her mouth, and throwing the key out the window. Fox doesn’t look particularly reassured by that, but he doesn’t comment on it either, so, victory.

Wow, if only she’d bothered to shut up earlier, her brain suddenly hisses at her, imagine how great that would’ve been.

Ahsoka takes a long, long drink of her caf, stopping only when she finishes the mup. She stares down at the mug mournfully, willing more caf to suddenly appear.

More caf does not suddenly appear.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 2am, and that the distraction the caf provided is gone. Maybe it’s the guilt that’s still curling up her throat when she stops to think about it, the regret that’s coating every word she says. Maybe it’s the fact that the kitchen feels warm and comforting, the fact that it reminds her of the Temple and being safe, being able to make mistakes without having people die for them.

Whatever it is, it has her speaking again before she considers what she’s going to say, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she even processes them.

“Master Anakin is out of contact right now,” Ahsoka says quickly, and stares determinedly down at her mug. Oh kriff, kriff, kriff, did she really just-- oh, Force, kriff. Okay. Just… it’s a bacta patch, Ahsoka. It’s best to rip it off as quickly as possible. “He’s on Mygeeto. Since it’s Seppie space, it’s a risk to send any messages. He didn’t send me here. He doesn’t even know there’s a threat on Senator Amidala’s life.”

Silence. She doesn’t dare look up. She knows she’ll lose her nerve if she does.

“The Temple is really empty these days, and the 501st is with Anakin, so it’s really boring as well, cause literally all of my friends are on campaigns right now. And I overheard Master Windu mention something about the Chancellor, and security protocols, to Master Plo when they were in the refractory, and like, the Chancellor is Anakin’s friend, so I kinda just started... listening. I don’t know, I was curious. But they mentioned the threat on Senator Amidala, and Padme’s my friend, right? So I did some snooping, and I realized that there weren’t going to be any Jedi sent, and… it would kill Skyguy if anything happened to her, you know?”

Wow, that came out badly. Way to shift the blame again, Ahsoka. Great job, truly.

Commander Fox probably didn’t know about… them anyway. Kriff. Double kriff.

Excuses, you’re making, her mind whispers at her. Apologize, or don’t. Do, or do not. There is no try.

“It wasn’t Anakin that thought additional security might be needed,” She says, hurried, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It was me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that Jedi presence would be needed to keep Senator Amidala safe, and I definitely shouldn’t have just used that assumption to try and justify my actions.”

The next few seconds seem to stretch on forever. The dull void in the Force around Fox feels more oppressive than ever, the absence of anything leaving Ahsoka stranded in the middle of an ocean, with no life raft to cling to, and nothing that gives her even the littlest bit of direction. Commander Fox doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sudden movements that her montrels detect, and she finally forces herself to peak up from her mug.

He looks floored. Half stupefied, half incredulous.”I- you- what?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he raises his hand in the halt symbol, rubs at one of his temples with the other. “Sorry. I’m just- so, you got yourself put on this mission… because you were bored.” He says. She nods. He shakes his head. “Because you were bored, and thought you knew better than the Jedi Council and all of the Generals. Force. That’s… something.”

“Yeah, my justifications definitely made a lot more sense in my head,” Ahsoka admits weakly, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the mug. “I shouldn’t of--”

“It’s… fine, kid. Trust me,” he says, and there’s the edge of something twisting in the Force, some kind of internal conflict she’s catching flashes of. It’s the most activity she’s ever seen with his Force presence. “I hear worse on a daily basis. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Ahsoka frowns. “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

The look he gives her is undecipherable, but she can tell that it’s weighted. Weighted in a way she’ll probably never understand, in a way she doesn’t think she wants to understand.

“No,” Fox finally says. “It doesn’t make it okay.” The words come out hushed, as if it's a forbidden confession, some kind of radical heresy, blasphemous in it’s very nature.

Something loosens in his Force presence with that, an alteration so small that Ahsoka’s surprised that she even notices the change. It looks like a ray of light cutting through the lacuna that surrounds him. It sounds like a breath of fresh air, and it creates a sudden connection, a burst of clarity where there had been none before. It feels like leaving the core worlds, how it seems as if a switch is flipped when one gets far enough from Coruscant, and the Force suddenly becomes so much clearer.

Ahsoka looks down, looks away, pulls her attention away from the metaphysical world of the Force. This isn’t something she’s supposed to see, and given the fact that Fox isn’t Force-sensitive, it’s not like he’s going to raise his own shields and block her off. She busies herself with trying to get any remaining bits of caf out of her mug instead, anchors her mind firmly in the physical world.

Fox doesn’t say anything else for a few long minutes, just stands, staring off into space, that look still on his face. When he speaks again, his voice is back to normal.

“Thank you for your honesty, Commander Tano,” Fox says, ducks his head to stare down at his drink for a few seconds. Ahsoka places her mug back on the table while he ruminates. When he meets her eyes again, the undecipherable look is gone. “And thank you for your apology. It means more than you know.”

Ahsoka nods. She’s not sure if she should say something, or if this is one of the times silence is better. He seems more comfortable in the quiet than she ever will be, so she bites down on her tongue--

“Right,” he says, and abruptly stands up, jarring her from her thoughts. “I’m going to make some more caf. Do you want a refill?”

Kriff yes she wants a refill. “Yes, please.”

[litttlesilkworm]

Chicken and Beets 

Dear Comrades,

Here is another entry for the Chernobyl New Year Challenge 2021: a recipe + a bit of a story to go with it. The story turned out more than a bit sad, I must confess 💚💛💜

This project shares a common ingredient with our delightful collaboration with @alyeen1 on Valoris-themed cocktail recipes - beets! Check out our cocktail post if you haven’t gotten a chance yet!

As @alyeen1​ has pointed out in the cocktail post, the idea with using beets comes from the fact that there is an untouched plate of boiled chicken and beets on Valery’s desk as mentioned in the Ep. 3 script:

We can, indeed, see the plate in the foreground in the frame below:

I wanted to imagine a little riff on this detail in a form of a scene that would take place later - in Moscow, not long after Boris and Valery come back from Chernobyl for good. It is New Year’s Eve, and Boris is having Valery over at his apartment to celebrate the arrival of 1987 together, just the two of them.

For the story and the recipe (and a picture of food), please click below!

Content warning: food/appetite, canon-consistent sad themes (”5 years”).

@shark-from-the-park @elenatria @drunkardonjunkyard @green-ann @johnlockismyreligion @borislegasov @owlboxes @seaweednpeanuts @attachedtofictionalpeople​ @gwinny3k @kylos-scarf​ @scarlettestar​ @the-jewish-marxist​ @cinemaocd​ @natasharedfox​ @ignalina-c0re​ @potter012​ @stellan-pip-69​ @art-is-a-malady @antonellachan4567 @hereliesnils​ @sunset-and-periwinkle​ @thegreenmeridian​ and everyone else!

“Something smells amazing, Borya,” Valery exclaims as he steps into Boris’ palatial apartment. He carefully sets two large white cardboard boxes, both tied with a string, and a canvas bag with bottles of champagne on the floor of Boris’ spacious hallway, and takes off his fur hat. 

Boris is wearing a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, black trousers and a red checkered apron. The heat of the kitchen has given his face a very appealing kind of sheen, a few errant strands of gray hair have fallen on his forehead, and his smooth cheeks look flushed. He seems excited about something, as if he has a secret that he is itching to reveal - but has to hold off on it for some only known to him dramatic timing.

He looks so attractive that the sight of him quite literally takes Valery’s breath away.

In the very next moment, Boris dives for his lips with a precision and determination of a hunting hawk. The tone and pitch of Boris’ contented hum, the way he holds Valery, the way he runs his fingers through his ginger hair as it crackles with static electricity, the way his thumbs rub circles on Valery’s cheeks, rosy from the biting wind outside, all tell the same story. It is a happy story, Valery knows. The one about how much he missed Valery, and how grateful he is to have Valery’s love, and how pleased he is to greet him here in his warm home, on this New Year’s Eve, and how he has prepared a surprise, and how much he’d enjoyed the process of preparation, and how excited he is to reveal it.

They part eventually, smiling, breathing “happy-new-years” into each others’ mouths. 

Boris’ gaze falls on the packages Valery carefully carried from Yeliseevsky market down the iced-over sidewalks. 

“You’ve brought champagne, wonderful! And dessert-” 

“I couldn’t decide between eclairs and the Napoleon, so I got both,” Valery says shyly, feeling his face getting warm. In reality, he got both because both looked so tempting to him. He is the one with a sweet tooth.

“Remember the box of frozen eclairs I found in the freezer at the restaurant at Polissya?” smiles Boris.

Valery nods enthusiastically. A good memory.

“It was the first thing I’ve seen you eat at Chernobyl like you actually had an appetite! It was a relief to see you excited about food. Do you remember what they used to feed us from the mobile kitchen?” Boris asks as he helps Valery out of his coat, shaking the snow off it. 

“Yes,” Valery says with a bit of dramatic shudder. They are like two soldiers reminiscing about the shared misery of a foxhole, Boris and him. “Pikalov’s unit has the best chemists and engineers in the Soviet Union - but not exactly the best cooks.”

Boris laughs heartily in agreement. “Remember what they used to serve most often?”

“Hmmm?” Valery cocks his head to the side and looks at Boris quizzically. “Boiled chicken and beets?”

“Right!” exclaims Boris. “Chicken that tasted like cotton balls.”

“And the beets! They must’ve boiled them all afternoon - they hardly had any color left in them,” adds Valery.

“You barely touched that food anyway. I was worried you will start wasting away. You would have a few bites if me or Nikolai were eating with you but if you were left alone with your calculations - forget it...” Boris waves his hand. 

“That’s not true!” Valery exclaims, indignant. “I ate what everyone else was eating!”

“You know, after you told me that isotopes don’t go into butter, I’ve taken to buying slabs of butter from the few villagers who had stayed behind. I would put buttered bread on your plate as you worked late into the night in your corner of the suite. You would finish your piece without noticing it and then I would slip you another one. After I fed you five or six of those I could be content and go read my Pravda.”

The revelation catches Valery completely off guard - he recalls the buttered bread, yes, but he truly, honestly never realized that Boris had been slipping him an entire daily calories’ worth at nighttime. All he remembers is his papers, his calculator, his logarithmic ruler, his aching neck and a constant crushing sense of dread that he might be completely, irredeemably wrong with his projections.

“I know you’ve never noticed,” Boris tilts his head and looks at him softly, crinkles gathering around his laughing eyes. He reaches to squeeze somewhat disoriented Valery’s shoulder, shaking the younger man back and forth gently. “But I knew that I got you fed, and that was good enough for me.”

Something beautiful and sad rises inside Valery and spills into a mist of tears in his eyes. It’s not what he wanted or expected of himself this evening, but he can’t help it.

A tinny voice deep inside him, like a small radio hidden under a thick pillow, scrapes at him in its metallic, nagging cadence - this won’t last, you fool. This - all of this - won’t last. You’ve seen his radiospectrogram, you’ve seen yours. Your bones are chock-full of strontium, both of you. Your leukocyte count is starting to look bad. He’s got that new cough whenever he lies down, and it doesn’t seem to go away. 

Every time Valery hears that cough is like a razor to his heart. 

“Please don’t take him,” he thinks now as he lies awake during oh-so-common for him sleepless nights, with his face pressed to Boris’ broad back, listening to the soft sound of his breath - the amazing sound of life that is dearer to him than his own. 

“Please don’t take him,” he says to someone he doesn’t know how to talk to, to something he isn’t sure exists beyond the electrons orbiting the clumps of protons and neutrons. Beyond the quantum uncertainty. Beyond the cosmic void. 

After he knew the cough was here to stay, he seemed to have adjusted his nighttime bargain. “Please don’t take him first.” 

The vision of Boris in his red apron blurs and trembles in Valery’s eyes, sliding slightly sideways and downwards. He blinks the veil of tears away, wiping his eyes with his small hand so he could see his love clearly again.

“You look so handsome tonight, Borya. And I love you so much,” Valery says softly, a wet sound escaping his throat. “So much.”

“Valera,” Boris wraps his arms around him in an attempt to quiet whichever emotion is roiling his lover, grumbling softly near his ear, “do you know what it meant for me to take care of you in the midst of all that... madness? It kept me together, too, you know - loving you. And you look amazing in blue.” 

Boris’ hands slide down to stroke Valery’s plump sides clad in a soft blue sweater vest as he says that.

"Thank you,” Valery closes his eyes and breathes, soaking in the comfort of Boris’ touch.

“I want to dance with you later tonight,” he mumbles into Boris’ shirt. 

“Yeah,” Boris answers softly into his hair. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Boris’ arm is around Valery as he leads him into the living room, where a holiday table is set next to an enormous New Year’s tree adorned with a red star and coated generously with silver tinsel.

Valery has been saving space in his belly all day and is now finding himself, in fact, very, very hungry.

As Boris shuttles back and forth between the living room and the kitchen with bowls and serving platters, Valery fusses with the wires of the champagne bottle, looking worriedly at the chandelier. 

“I’ve got Olivier salad, red caviar sandwiches, oh! - pickled mushrooms, so good,” Boris recites proudly. “And for the main course... you wouldn’t mind if we had chicken and beets tonight, would you? Like in the old times?” 

He pauses for a proper dramatic effect. The look of momentary dismay on Valery’s face must be so comical that it makes the older man laugh out loud. 

“Don’t worry, love - it’s the good kind. This one you wouldn’t want to pass up,” says Boris, beaming, and proceeds to fill Valery’s plate. “Eat, Valera, eat.” 

The winter winds are wailing hard outside, but here in the warm living room the air is filled with the clinking of cutlery and Valery’s delighted humming as he devours Boris’ creation. Even the nagging metallic voice in Valery’s head seems to have quieted down to an indecipherable murmur, as if tucked away behind a thick wall somewhere. Really, he can barely hear it at all.

                                                          * * *

Recipe: Chicken Delmonico + Warm Beet Salad with Pears, Gorgonzola Cheese and Walnuts

For the chicken, I followed Emeril Lagasse’s excellent Chicken Delmonico recipe exactly (just the chicken, not the mushroom part), except that I didn’t make my own spice mix the way he suggests, but instead combined store-bought cajun spice mix with salt in a 5:1 ratio.

The key to this recipe is to be generous with the seasoning!

For the beet salad, I did the following:

Ingredients:

6 medium-sized beets

2 large ripe pears

⅔ of a cup of walnut halves and pieces 

⅔ of a cup of Gorgonzola cheese crumbs

Extra-virgin olive oil

Lemon juice

Salt and pepper

1. Scrub the beets with a brush, rub with olive oil and wrap in foil. Roast in a 350 F (175 C) oven for 40 min, then let them cool until you can comfortably handle them. Peel the beets and chop them into ½ inch-thick slices, set aside.

2. Toast walnuts in a 350 F oven for 6-7 minutes, chop, set aside.

3. Peel and chop the pears into slices similar in size to your beet slices.

4. In a large mixing bowl, combine beet and pear slices, toasted walnuts and Gorgonzola. Add olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste, and mix well. Enjoy!

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

*spoilers for infinity War/endgame* Because technically Phineas and Ferb Is in the same universe of the MCU, does that mean that before the Avengers undid Thanos snap some of the PnF crew died? Imagine Doof Dying, Perry living but still visit his tower every day bc he misses him. Or Phineas and Ferb Dying, and Candace trying to bust them Just to rember they're gone.

WAIT THAT’S SO SAD O_O

I can’t stop thinking about what would happen if Heinz died. Perry would absolutely keep coming back to the tower even though there’s no scheme to thwart. Sometimes he’d run into Vanessa, who’s mourning just like he is. Her dad may drive her up the wall sometimes, but she still loved him and she would have to have a lot of regrets about how rocky their relationship had been at times. And assuming the squirrel powering Norm up didn’t die, he’d have the whole penthouse to himself for the first time. I don’t know if it’s in Norm’s programming to be genuinely sad, but I have to think that over five years of only finding companionship in Perry and Vanessa’s visits, he’d have to lose the cheerful air he always has. 

In fact, I think a lot of OWCA and LOVEMUFFIN would be fucked up. Only about 25% of nemesis pairs would survive, and 50% of evil scientists and agents would be left without their nemesis. There would have to be a lot of rearranging, and depending on what happens to the OWCA/LOVEMUFFIN member ratio, some agents might be without a job or some might have to double up. Can you imagine Perry taking on two evil scientists every day while he’s mourning the loss of his best friends?

And then when his day at work is done, he’d have two choices: he could go to Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc and not be met with Heinz’s self-assured monologuing, or he could go to the Flynn-Fletchers (it would be difficult to call it “home” now) and constantly be reminded that his boys are gone. I would like to think that both Linda and Lawrence get to stick around, but they’re no substitute for Phineas and Ferb.

Much like Perry’s dream in Phineas and Ferb Get Busted, Candace would be heartbroken. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she wasn’t busting the boys. It really is the only thing she’d focused on all summer, and if they just up and disappeared one day, she’d be so lost. I have to imagine that either Stacy or Jeremy would also get snapped away -- the odds that all three would live would be slim to none -- so she’d also be mourning the loss of at least one of the closest friends. Assuming one of them survived, I imagine she’d lean on them for support more than anyone, but they’d be dealing with losses in their own family, too -- they both have at least one parent and a younger sister; I imagine at least one person in their family wouldn’t make it. 

I think Candace would really hold a grudge against Perry at first because he reminds her of them. Perry’s used to her being rude -- and it’s not exactly a one-sided thing -- but never to this extent, and I think he’d take that as a sign that maybe he shouldn’t come home. He doesn’t want to sleep in Phineas and Ferb’s empty beds, anyway. It would make it easy to embrace a second nemesis at OWCA, even if he feels numb the whole time, but he’d still need somewhere to go when he’s not working, and I think he might make himself at home at DEI, at least at night when he needs somewhere to sleep. He’d be careful not to disturb anything because even though he knows Heinz is gone, he can’t stop hoping that maybe one day he’ll come back, and Perry doesn’t want to move anything for when that day comes. Even after five years, whenever he pays DEI a visit, he touches nothing but the coffee maker and the bed. 

I think eventually, though, Candace and Perry would have to be reunited. It’s a small town; they can’t stay away from each other for long. Maybe it’s Perry who takes initiative, going back home for the first time after a month just to see how everyone’s doing. Obviously everyone’s still broken up about it, but it’s been long enough that people have to start moving on and living their lives without their loved ones, no matter how much it hurts. I don’t think Perry would have gone home to see Candace, but I think once he did, he wouldn’t want to leave. And for once, I think Candace wouldn’t want him to leave, either. Yes, Perry reminds her of the boys, but so does everything and everyone else. But having him disappear within days of the boys turning to dust just left another hole in the household, and it helps to have back the only one who misses them like she does.

I think the gang would absolutely fall apart. They had nothing in common before Phineas and Ferb brought them together that summer, and with them gone, there’s no one to unite them anymore. I don’t think it would be a conscious decision, but I think they’d slowly stop spending time together and that eventually it would be almost like that summer never happened. I even think Buford would stop bullying Baljeet, even as a friend, because it just feels wrong now. They wouldn’t know how to cope without Phineas and Ferb, and it would tear everything apart.

I think the Fireside Girls would grow closer, though. I think Isabella would become much more focused on getting her patches because it’s something to take her mind off the pain and she wouldn’t have to think about the fact that she never got to tell Phineas about her crush, and I think the girls who survived would know what she was doing and they would do their best to help her. I think there’d be a lot of heart-to-hearts and a lot of tears, and maybe they’d expand their duties to try to help others who are struggling the same way they are, even if the best they can offer is some sort of distraction. 

And as heartbreaking as it is to think about what would happen when they’re all gone, I can’t even imagine what would happen when they come back. Maybe Perry’s at DEI with 21-year-old Vanessa -- a whole ass adult now -- and Norm, sitting together quietly or reminiscing about the past and bam, Heinz appears in the middle of his lab. I think that might be the first time anyone ever sees Perry cry -- and I mean full-on sobbing; he’s been waiting for this day for five years but he never actually thought it would happen. It would be such a nice, happy reunion, and I can’t even imagine how much it would mean to Heinz to know that Perry stuck around for five whole years waiting for him when he knows that everyone else has abandoned him the first chance they got. 

And then they’ve notice how loud the tower is and how busy the streets are and they’d realize that Heinz isn’t the only one who came back, and Perry would give Heinz a big hug before running out the door to see if Phineas and Ferb came home. Heinz wouldn’t understand at first -- why would Perry wait around for five years just to leave within 10 minutes of Heinz coming back? -- but Perry had spent enough time with Vanessa lately for her to know that he has a family back home. That would just make Heinz feel even better. Perry lost his two boys and he still spent so much time here.

Phineas and Ferb would be so disoriented. One second they’re building a giant disco ball, the next they’re standing in an empty yard with no friends, tools, or disco balls in sight. They’d head inside to ask their parents if they knew where Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet went, and their parents would start crying because the boys are back! After all this time, their boys are finally home! and Phineas and Ferb wouldn’t understand why they’re suddenly being given the biggest bear hugs of all time but they wouldn’t protest. And then Perry would run through the door, almost like he somehow magically knew he’d find them, and he’d stay by their side all day, only leaving (after a day full of snuggles, obviously) to go back and visit Heinz. OWCA and LOVEMUFFIN would have a lot to sort out, so he’d hopefully get at least the next couple days off to spend with his family -- both the Flynn-Fletcher family and the Doofenshmirtz family.

Candace would probably be at school -- she’d be 20, after all, and probably at a college dorm a ways away from home. Maybe shed get a call from her mom, sobbing, telling her that her brothers are back. Or maybe someone in her dorm would start screaming and telling everyone who will listen that her dad is alive and her dad’s been dead for five years and this is the best news she’s ever gotten, and soon the entire school (and probably the entire world) is on their phone calling around to see if their own families and friends are okay. The phone lines wouldn’t even be able to handle all this, and the streets would be a wreck with people trying to get to their loved ones. 

And can you imagine what it would be like for Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet to see them again? They’d be 13-15 years old at this point, and Phineas and Ferb would still be in elementary school. The boys may be mature for their age, but I have to imagine the five-year age difference would create a major rift in their friendship if they tried to go back to where they used to be. If Isabella still had remnants of a crush on Phineas, it would probably stop the moment she remembered that he’s just a little kid, and she’d have to figure out how to cope knowing that her former best friend (and first crush) is back but that they’re at such different standings in life now. Hell, Phineas and Ferb are probably closer to Little Suzy Johnson’s age than to Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet’s. I think it would really mess with Phineas and Ferb to see their friends so much older and more mature, especially because to them, they’d just been kids building crazy things the day before. 

Once again, I think the Fireside Girls would be fine. They probably would have taken in some of the Lil-Sparks-turned-Fireside-Girls like Melissa (not Chase) into their troop to make up for lost members, so the varying ages would be nothing new; they’d just be happy to have their friends back.

tl;dr I think the snap would be heartbreaking and the reunion would be bittersweet and this is the woRST ASK I’VE EVER GOTTEN AND NOW I’M GONNA CRY IN A CORNER FOR A FEW HOURS /j

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen your blades - Ch.2

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 2/20

Previously <- Chapter 1: Pairs

Chapter 3: Training -> Next

Chapter 2: Refusal

Katsuki laughed as he spun faster and faster, holding Izuku’s hands so that when his feet left the ice, he stayed in the air. The Death Spiral was their favorite trick to modify, and as they got older, they got bolder. They hadn’t been allowed to include this particular modification in competition, but Katsuki knew they’d get to one day.

That wouldn’t be for another couple of years, but that just meant they had time to improve together and individually.

Their coach, a tall spindly beta man, called from the rink entrance. “Alright, everyone! Come gather over here for a moment. I’ve got some announcements to make!”

Izuku’s blades bit back into the ice as they slowed, still laughing. “Are you excited, Kacchan? You put in for the single skate events this year, right?” he asked, grinning as they meanered away from center ice. They weren’t the only ones taking their time, but they were the furthest from the entrance.

Nodding, Katsuki’s eyes found the dusty yet still colorful ribbons and trophies that lined the ledge of the announcer’s booth. “Yeah, wanted to try it out. Can’t get better if I’m never alone, and I want my name to be up there! Right where all those first place trophies are. I’m going to be better than anyone else! You too, right?”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, cheeks flushed pink. “We’ve never gotten to skate on our own before. I think it’ll be fun. But I want to skate as a pair in the December preliminaries before we go to seniors.”

“Don’t worry about that, dumbass, that’s years away! We’ll still skate pairs before then. Just not this year.”

Izuku nodded, but didn’t reply as they finally slid up to the forming group of skaters. They were all ages from the youngest being 3-years-old to the oldest being 17-years-old, but even at ten, Izuku still looked tiny compared to everyone else. Taking his hand, Katsuki pulled him around to an opening between bodies, and shoved him through so they could both see what was going on.

Their hands never left each other.

“Good, good, everyone is here,” Coach said, eyes scanning over them, “So, we all know that the April showcase in Yuuei is coming up. Is everyone excited?” The group cheered. “Fantastic! I have the skating assignments right here! Is everyone ready to hear them?” The group cheered again, deafening in the echoing space of the rink. “Great! I’ll start with our pairs. I’m happy to officially welcome Midoriya and Bakugou as our Alpha/Omega pair! They presented just two weeks ago, and I’m sure you can guess who presented as what.” He chuckled, but the sentiment wasn’t echoed by the group.

Katsuki’s ears burned.

The other skaters were dead silent, all eyes finding them as the scent of burning charcoal slowly filled the air. Even at ten, Katsuki’s temper was volatile, only made worse by Izuku’s sickly sweet embarrassed scent. Like rotting fruit.

Sure, everyone could smell that they’d had first rut and heat, but it just wasn’t something people commented on. Going through puberty was embarrassing enough without everyone also knowing when they presented. Everyone just knew, and that was that.

Someone cleared their throat. One of the older skaters, an alpha woman with long white hair and brown skin, spoke up, “Um, Coach, I might be mistaken, but both Deku and Kacchan put in for single skate this year. We all thought it would be a good idea for them to get experience on their own.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Coach said flippantly, “but I decided otherwise. Why fix something that isn’t broken. It looks better for us as a team to have an Alpha/Omega pair, and it’ll be easier for them to win since same-sex pairs are unconventional.”

The rest of the older skaters shifted uncomfortably, expressions morphing as the alpha spoke up again. “That’s really not the point here. The point is for them to have fun and experience new things. There’s others of us who pair skate.”

Katsuki was burning from the inside out, anger stealing the words from his throat. He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry before.

“The point,” Coach said with emphasis, “is to make our team look good. Looking good equals more attention which equals more money. Which is important to keeping this rink up and running. Skating isn’t about having fun, it’s about winning. They’re better together than either of them ever would be alone. So if Bakugou and Midoriya want to continue to skate with our team, then they’ll skate pairs. That’s that. End of discussion. Anyone who has an issue with that can take their chances finding a different team.” With a wave of his hand, he continued down the list of pairs as if there had never been an interruption.

Grinding his teeth, Katsuki ripped his hand from Izuku’s. He ignored the hurt whine that came from the other boy.

The alpha that had tried to defend them shouldered passed the coach with a hissed, “Fuck you,” just loud enough for the entire team to hear over his talking. She grabbed her guards and her gear, and they never saw her at practice again. When the coach got fired two years later though, they knew she was behind it. Too bad it was too little, too late.

…..

Rage roared through Katsuki, and suddenly, the burning charcoal scent of his anger crowded out Izuku’s acidic anxiety scent from his nose. Blood thrummed loudly in his ears as his temperature rose with each beat of his heart, much like the first time he’d been required to partner with Izuku. It had always been their choice until it hadn’t been, and that pissed him off more than anything.

He couldn’t even hear Aizawa’s next words.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he exploded, forcing himself not to look at Izuku when he heard the little unconscious whine the omega made. A sound that had his alpha screaming at him to ‘ calm, scent, protect, calm, help, protect .’ He hated it, hated the instinctual need, wished he could rip his alpha right from his chest. “This is a fucking joke, right? You expect me to fucking skate with him ?”

Aizawa slowly lifted his eyes from his clipboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do. You two are the best for this despite the fact you can barely speak civilly to each other for more than a moment.”

A manic laugh spilled from Katsuki’s mouth, and the teammates near him took careful steps back. “That’s a joke! That has to be a goddamn joke!”

Yaoyorozu’s hand shot into the air, worry etched into her features. Katsuki wanted to rip it from her arm. “I also don’t understand, Coach. Surely it’d be more beneficial to pair myself with Shouto or Midoriya, wouldn’t it?”

‘ Yes, agree. Switch Izuku’s goddamn partner. I can’t- ’ he thought desperately, but knew Aizawa wouldn’t.

“No. The program I’ve selected for the top rank is going to be difficult. Even if it weren’t, I can’t have someone who has never skated pairs trying to master it in just three months. We just don’t have the time to get you up to that skill level. On top of that, I’m not going to move two of my top three over to pairs when Bakugou and Midoriya have skated pairs previously. They are also the bottom of my top five. They’re the best option to make partners,” Aizawa explained, voice growing monotone the longer he spoke.

Katsuki couldn’t and wouldn’t skate with Izuku again! It just wasn’t going to fucking happen! This felt like the last time they were paired up for their dynamics, and he hated the sick black feeling that bloomed in his chest. Every rank dropped, every point lost, every mistake made flashed through his mind as if they’d happened yesterday.

He could still remember the sound of Izuku hitting the ground, the failed catch, the other skaters’ gasps even as no one moved. The smell of blood thick in his nose, his hands trembling, the anguish on Izuku’s face.

He hadn’t been the one to throw him, but he was still at fault in the end.

“I’m not skating with Deku!”

Aizawa’s eyes returned to Katsuki along with the rest of his teammates, stony and set. “Yes, you will. If you don’t, I’ll drop you from the team and you can find another to skate with. With your legendary attitude, I can’t imagine many would want you. Your choice.”

He was being forced into a corner again, given an ultimatum that wasn’t really a choice at all. If it was between skating and never skating again, there wasn’t a decision to be made. The blackness in his chest only expanded, spreading through his chest and up into his throat, choking him.

He ground his teeth together savagely, an ache sprouting in his jaw. “What the fuck ever, but I’m not practicing with him. Fuck that.” It was stupid, he knew it was. Eventually, he would have to practice with Izuku. Eventually, he’d have to eat his own words. There was no way around it, not if they wanted to have any chance of actually placing. That didn’t mean he couldn’t master his part of the skate to the most minor of hand placements before attempting the larger tricks with him.

He wasn’t going to be the one to let Izuku get hurt again.

Rolling his eyes, Aizawa seemed to be done with the argument. For now. “As long as you don’t make us look like a group of fools at the charity event, I don’t care how you figure it out. No deaths, no injuries and no stupid mistakes. Now, back to what I was saying. If anyone else wants to waste my time today, just leave.”

No one left the rink, but Katsuki shoved away from the wall with a snarl and found his way to Kirishima and Ashido’s sides. The pair were grinning at him, Kirishima placatingly and Ashido goadingly. He didn’t wait for them to say anything. “Pinky, I’m going to need to borrow you for practice.”

Her smile was sharp as she ruffled her pink spikes. “Not even going to ask first?”

“Are you going to say no?”

She shrugged her pink clad shoulders. “No, as long as you help me with my program. I’m competing too, and I’m going to need time to practice.”

“Sure, whatever. Just need you for the stuff I can’t do on my own. Lifts, death spiral, that shit.”

“I can help, but why not just practice with your partner? Hm? I’ve seen the videos, Bakubro, you two were really good. You used to tear up the ice,” she needled, and Kirishima shot her a reproachful glance.

He sighed and smiled at Katsuki. “Listen, man, I don’t want to like pry or anything, but I think you should just practice with him too. Maybe if you talk?”

“Shut it. None of that is either of your business. Just fucking leave it,” Katsuki snapped.

They shrugged, and let the topic drop even if it wasn’t for good.

…..

Izuku hadn’t been able to pay attention to Aizawa after that, his mind racing in circles to figure out what he could do. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, and he was sure that no matter who Katsuki practiced with, he’d be able to perform with Izuku when the time came no matter what. It was Izuku himself that he was worried about.

There were a lot of things he could practice alone. Foot work and jumps synced to the milli-second with whatever track Aizawa chose for them. His costume and hair. Hand placement. Endurance. There were also a lot of things that he couldn’t do by himself that were, in retrospect, the most important aspects of their performance.

Those included, but were not limited to, lifts and throws. To put it simply, he couldn’t perform any of the tricks alone.

Pair skating required an astounding amount of trust and understanding between partners, just like anything else where two people were working together. The only person he truly and completely trusted on the ice anymore was himself. That was no one’s issue, but his own. Now, he didn’t have a choice. While he knew he could trust Katsuki and his caliber, was sure that Katsuki would never drop or fail to catch him, he didn’t know if he could let himself be that vulnerable again. He didn’t want to disappoint Katsuki when he couldn’t bring himself to do a trick, and he didn’t know if Katsuki could understand why he couldn’t.

They hadn’t been able to understand each other for a long time.

Aizawa had made a terrible mistake.

With each beat of Izuku’s heart, phantom pain flared from his hip to his ankle, from elbow to wrist. It had been eight years since he got hurt, but the fear that it might happen again followed him every time he stepped out onto the ice.

“Midoriya.” Todoroki snapped Izuku out of his own thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up to find the others dispersing. Most pushed back out onto the ice, some sat down to put their heads together, others stuck around to ask Aizawa questions. His friends were still standing close though; Iida, Uraraka, Asui, and Tokoyami. “Most of my pair work has been as lead, so I can help you practice until Bakugou pulls his head out of his ass.”

Izuku wanted to protest, to say that it wasn’t all Katsuki’s fault, but he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t make his lips move to form the ones he did have.

“Is that really wise?” Iida asked seriously as he leaned down to remove his guards and step out onto the ice. He remained at the wall, face tense. “Pair skating is already difficult enough, but practicing without your intended partner…”

“I have to wonder the same thing,” Tokoyami sighed, glancing over his shoulder towards where Katsuki was briskly correcting Kirishima’s clumsy pick placement, “Wouldn’t that cause more problems than it solves?”

Asui placed a considering finger against her lips. “It seems odd that he’s so against it too. I know he’s smarter than he’s acting right now, so I’m surprised he’d take the risk.”

“Not only that, but you’ll have to practice too, Todoroki! Wouldn’t it just be better to practice with him from the beginning?” Uraraka asked earnestly, “Why is he so against it anyway? I know you two haven’t gotten along in a long time, but this seems excessive. Coach Aizawa isn’t asking you to be friends, he’s just asking you to skate. I thought Bakugou knew how to compartmentalize better than this.”

‘ Then you don’t know, Kacchan .’ Izuku didn’t say that out loud, even if he wanted to. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. After a moment, he smiled. “Kacchan isn’t the only one with reservations. It’s just… there’s a lot that we haven’t worked through.” Read: that he hasn’t worked through. Nothing that happened when they were younger was Katsuki’s fault, at least Izuku didn’t see it that way.

His friends rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to make excuses for him,” Todoroki said, leaning forward to check his laces before standing.

Except that he wasn’t. His friends and teammates knew that Izuku and Katsuki had both skated pairs for most of their childhood and knew each other through their mothers. What no one knew was that Katsuki had been his partner most of that time. His friends didn’t know everything that they went through after they presented. They didn’t know why they had decided to go singles after skating pairs for so long. They didn’t know exactly how Izuku had gotten hurt. Maybe one day he’d be able to tell them, but every time he remembered that he spent an entire year thinking he’d never skate again, it just made his breath grow short and his heart beat fast.

They didn’t even know that Toshinori and Aizawa were the only reason he was still skating now.

Swallowing thickly, Izuku forced a smile as he allowed Todoroki to help him to his feet. “I’m not.”

[overheardatthecontinental]

Y’all wanted more so I made it a two-shot.

Shoutout to @markwatneythespacepirate for the ideas

It had been two weeks since Helen released his drink. Two weeks of sipping an actual honest-to-God latte for the first time in his life.

He could picture what those closest to him would say if they could see him now. In the back of the line, patiently waiting for his morning latte with dark chocolate sauce and a hint of fruit.

Marcus would berate him for putting coffee into his body at all. His closest ally was hard-pressed to put anything not ‘raw’ into his body. Which meant meals, and drinks, with Marcus all consisted of vegetables.

How he got the energy to fight was beyond John, but, then again, Marcus tended to stick to sniping.

Aurelio would probably check the back of his neck to make sure he hadn’t been body-snatched. Right up until he saw Helen and clicked into place what John was doing. John was certain that the jokes and the teasing would never end.

And Winston… Winston would just shake his head in disappointment and make some comments about John being too smart to let a woman lead him around.

But John was more than happy to be led around, providing that Helen was doing the leading.

“John!” Helen calls and waves him over. There are still a handful of people in front of him but she trades places with one of her baristas.

He glances around and then moves to the pick-up counter where Helen is. She hands him an iced coffee and John blinks, looking back up at her.

“It’s the iced version of the Wick.” She tells him, “And before you say anything, I made it with cold brew and just a splash of milk, instead of espresso. And I added extra chocolate. It still should be disgustingly bitter.”

John smirks and pokes a straw through the top.

He has had cold coffee before; when his coffee has lost all heat while he kills or when all that was left in the coffee pot after a long day was acrid and cold. But he had never tried iced coffee.

It seemed like a drink for the younger crowd. The kids who wore their headphones when walking down busy streets and poured over textbooks for hours on end. It seemed like a drink for the sweet and the innocent.

He could picture Helen with an iced coffee in her hand, wrapped up in a cashmere sweater with a bright smile painted on her face.

Iced coffee was not for killers.

But now there was one in his hand. With a straw.

A fucking straw.

He couldn’t remember ever using a straw.

Well, once. In a restaurant. He had wrapped an end around each of his fingers and used it to strangle someone. But he is fairly certain that doesn’t count.

He brings the coffee up and puts the straw between his lips.

It’s colder than he is expecting, even with all the ice. It still tastes bitter, as he likes it, but it is… different.

“It’s different.” He says aloud.

“Bad different?” She asks.

John shakes his head and takes another sip. “No. Just… not what I was expecting. It’s good.”

Helen rewards him with a soft smile, “Is it missing anything? I know that iced coffee can be more flavorful because it’s less acidic. Is the ratio with the chocolate still okay?”

“It’s perfect, Helen.” He assures her, taking another sip. “I’ve never had iced coffee before.”

“Ever?”

He shakes his head, “Not that I can remember.”

“Maybe I’ll convert you. There’s more caffeine in that then the hot one.”

“Really?”

She nods, “I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s a very strong concentrate. The cold brew takes more than a day to fully mature.” Helen indicates his bag, “You staying today?”

“Yeah, I have some work to do.”

Not a lie. He just did not plan on telling her that he was using her free Wifi to look up information on the man he was about to kill later that evening.

“I’ll bring you over your usual, too. Thanks for being my guinea pig.”

“Any time.”

And he means that. She could give him one of those crazy drinks that she offered with five pumps of caramel and extra cream and he would drink it with a smile on his face.

John picks the corner table that he prefers. It leaves him with an excellent view of the door and a better view of the counter, where Helen is back to serving. He plugs in his laptop and begins to work.

He combs through the Continental database looking for information on the building he is going to need to break into. He is surprisingly good at stealth considering his penitent for firearms.

His weapons are ready, in the trunk of his car, and he plans to drive into the city after closing at Deja Brew. He’ll arrive earlier than he needs but he can always use the time to check out some bookstores in the city before he tries to sneak into a Cartel base.

John continues reviewing the schematics until Helen walks over, carrying what he presumes is his usual drink.

He closes out of the browser and quickly opens his kindle application.

“Sorry for the wait.” She says setting it down on his table.

“No worries. I wish you’d let me pay.”

“Not on days where you guinea pig. Besides, you tip more than you pay for coffee every day. Don’t think that I don’t notice.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “You don’t charge much and I appreciate good coffee.”

“I try to keep it affordable and keep my customers happy.” She replies, “What are you working on?”

“I’m re-reading Beowulf. I just received an old handwritten manuscript that needs to be rebound but the thing is a mess. Pages out of order, half-fallen apart.”

“You bind books?” She asks with interest, setting a hand on the seat across from him.

John nods. Both a cover for his life as well as a truth. “Yes. English isn’t my first language, to begin with, and Old English throws me completely. I’m trying to review the text here,” he points at his computer, “so that when I get home later, I can make sure everything is in order before I begin to bind.”

“What was your first language?”

And she is so sincere in her curiosity that it throws him for a loop. Usually, when people ask him questions, they are gauging. They are looking for weaknesses. For something to use against him.

But not Helen. She is neither afraid of him nor against him.

She is genuinely curious, that kind smile never leaving her face.

“Russian, primarily. I was raised in Belarus with a Roma tribe. It was a strange mixture of Russian, German, Polish, and Ukrainian.”

“That’s amazing! Can you still speak it?”

John nods.

“Will you say something for me? I don’t know anyone who speaks Russian.”

He stares at her eyes. How can eyes be kind, he wonders. But there they are, soft and gentle and kind and he just wants to be lost in them forever.

“Ty samoye prekrasnoye zrelishche, kotoroye ya kogda-libo videl.”

You are the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld.

“Wow. What does that mean?”

John looks down and back up at her, “It means ‘thank you for the wonderful coffee.”

“You are most welcome. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

“I will,” he promises and she turns to go. Back behind the counter, where she is a true wonder.

He resumes his work but cannot help but look up and watch her every so often. She is so graceful with every movement and, in another life, he knew something about grace.

John tried not to think about his time in Belarus or with the Ruska Roma in New York. Belarus had been hell and the journey to New York had not been much better.

Hours of training, wrestling with the other boys in the troop. And they were much bigger than he was. It had taken him years to hit the growth spurt that allowed him to hit just over six feet and, by that time, he had already run away.

And when he hadn’t been wrestling, the Director had pushed him, far more than the others, to dance. To practice on tiptoes until his muscles ached and his feet bled.

But that was a long time ago.

And Helen is far more graceful than he had ever been and far more kind than anyone he had ever known.

Business slows down in the late morning only to speed up twenty minutes later as the lunch rush hits. He considers heading out when the line reaches out the door if only to clear a space for Helen’s patrons but he cannot bring himself to leave just yet.

Even the customers who are in a rush or who are pushy to get their food seem to settle with a smile from her.

It’s a good thing, he decides.

He’s not sure what he would do if he ever saw a customer be rude to her.

Eventually, it slows again, and John finishes his work. He still has hours before he needs to reach the city so he brings back up the manuscript for Beowulf and continues to try and translate the Middle English into something he can understand.

The older copies are without annotations and numbering of lines, like the copy he reads on his computer.

By two, it is only him left in the coffee shop. Helen sends her morning baristas home early, although John is certain she will pay them for the entire shift.

She tidies up behind the counter, ready in case any patrons should enter for a late coffee.

It is quiet until two-twenty.

John notes the time when a man in a black hoodie, with sunglasses, walks in.

The new customer is awkward and uncomfortable and John gets a bad feeling in his stomach.

He keeps his head turned towards his computer but he keeps his gaze on the counter.

Helen smiles, unsuspectingly, and John wishes, if only for a moment, that Helen was less kind. More assuming. That she was the kind of person to make a snap judgment that this man was not good .

“What can I get for you today?” The man pulls his arm out of his jacket pocket and John resists the urge to swear.

The gun is black and small and compact. A Sig P365. It holds 12+1 which is excessive for a small business robber.

Helen’s face goes white as the robber demands she opens the register.

Four strides, he estimates. Four strides to get to the robber, but then what?

He… he can’t kill someone in front of Helen. He can’t.

He won’t. If he can avoid it.

And this guy is an idiot.

John rises to his feet and crosses the room quickly.

He can’t kill someone in front of Helen, he tells himself again. She shouldn’t have to see that. But this man is pointing a gun at her. At Helen . He is pointing a gun at Helen and John feels true, white and hot and angry rage.

John taps him on the shoulder and the man turns. This man is clearly inexperienced and John hits his wrist with the outside of his hand. The grip on the gun loosens and he grabs the barrel and spins the gun so it is in his hand before bringing it up in a single, flawless movement, and slabbing the but of the gun into the man’s head.

He crumbles to the floor and Helen leans forward against the counter, a small gasp escaping from her lips.

“Oh my god.” She whispers.

“Are you alright?” John asks, kneeling to the ground to make sure the man has no more weapons on him.

Helen nods, swallowing and looking at John with something like amazement. “How did you do that?”

John rises to his feet. “He’s not armed with anything else. Do you have rope anywhere?”

“I, um, I have zip ties in my toolbox. In my office.”

“Can you get it?” John asks and Helen nods, backing away and turning to go to the back.

John turns the man over and pulls his hands behind his back. He is not gentle and he hopes the man’s nose breaks as he drops his face to the floor.

Helen returns a moment later and comes around the counter, handing the zip ties to John. He sets down the gun and binds the man’s hands tightly behind him before doing the same at his ankles.

John stands again and looks Helen over. She is shaking. Before he can ask her, again, if she is okay, she crashes into him, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

And this is a hug.

He’s seen it. He knows what it looks like but… just like iced coffee, he is certain he has never had anything quite like this.

John does not know quite what to do but he brings his arms up around her. One on her lower back, the other on her head.

Her hair is softer than he imagined and it makes him want to lose his hands within it. To pick her up and never let her go.

“It’s okay,” John tells her. “He can’t hurt you.”

She releases a shaky breath, “Thank you.” She loosens her grip and steps back, “How did you know what to do?”

He does not reply, at first, looking down at the man on the ground. “You’re going to want to call the police.”

“R-right.” She says, reaching into her pocket and dialing 9-1-1.

John picks the man up using the bindings at his wrist and drags him over to one of the tables that is screwed into the floor. Using the remaining zip tie, he fastens him to the table post as Helen rattles off the address.

He hears sirens in the distance and hopes that it’s one of the officers he’s already met. He walks back over to the counter once the man is tied up and stands with Helen. She leans into him again and John wraps an arm around her.

Something so foreign has never felt so right.

The door to the shop opens and it is Jimmy and Randy. Both have their guns drawn but they put them away when they see the robber.

“Afternoon John.” Says Jimmy.

“Jimmy.” John greets, “Randy.”

“John.”

Helen looks from John to the officers, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I see you had the issue under control.” Jimmy kneels down, lifting the hood to get a look at the man’s face.

“Single robber with a single gun.”

“Playground fun for you.” Randy jokes and John fights the urge to wince.

He clears his throat and motions with his head to the woman at his side. “This is Helen Kingston. She owns the place.”

“Ma’am.” Jimmy greets. “I’ll need to take both your statements.” He looks to John, “What identity do you want this under?”

And John shoots him a look because Helen is right there and she is looking at him with confusion and uncertainty and that is not how he wants her to look at him.

But John knows that time is over now. He knows the drill with things like this.

She is a star he could never reach to begin with. It was foolish to forget that, even for an instant.

“Anderson,” John says softly. “Do you have the papers with you so I can do it here?”

“Always keep some on me after that incident down at the reservoir.”

And John wishes that Jimmy would just. stop. talking.

“Um, would you guys like some coffee?” Helen asks and her voice is still a little shaky.

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

“That’s alright.” Says Randy.

She looks up at John expectantly and he immediately knows she needs this. She needs to get behind the counter and make coffee because that is what she is good at. That is what she excels at. That is her happy place, her calm place.

“My usual?” John asks and Helen gratefully nods, hurrying behind the counter as John begins to write out his statement.

He eyes her all the while. The moment she begins to brew the coffee he sees her shoulders relax.

He gives his statement quickly while Randy writes down Helen’s account as she drips chocolate sauce around the edge of John’s cup.

She comes back around as it is done and hands it to John, who reaches for his wallet.

“Put that away.” She tells him before he can pull it loose. “You just stopped an armed robber in my shop. I think that constitutes free coffee.”

“Thank you,” John says, accepting the coffee and… he cannot help himself, he pushes a loose lock of hair out of her face.

Her beautiful face.

And she is so confused that it makes him sad. He liked it when she thought him just a simple bookbinder.

Now… she didn’t know what to think.

Jimmy thanks them for their time and thanks John for “making my life easier” and they cut the robber away from the table and drag him out to the cruiser.

John turns to Helen, “are you sure you're okay?"

She gives him a small smile, "Thanks to you." She nods once, "Anderson, huh? Are you a spy?"

John lets out a small laugh and looks down, "Would you be mad if I told you I'm not at liberty to say?"

"Of course you're not." She shakes her head and sighs, "Do you think I could get away with closing early?"

John checks his watch, "It's just twenty minutes. And if anyone says anything, you can just tell them the truth. You were stuck up and gunpoint and now you're going home."

"To drink a bottle of wine."

John smiles, "I think that sounds perfect."

And she smiles. Things have changed but she is still smiling at him, still looking at him with those kind and gentle eyes.

Yes, things have changed.

But maybe that doesn't have to be all bad.

Because sometimes bitter meshes perfectly with sweet.

He reaches out, tentatively, and puts a hand on her neck, weaving his fingers up into her hair.

Helen doesn't pull away.

John bends down and brushes his lips against hers.

They're softer than he imagined but just as sweet.

Her lips part gloriously and she stands on her toes, reaching an arm up and around his neck as she kisses him back. Her tongue brushes his lips and sweeps into his mouth, tangling with his.

Sugar and cream and a sweetness which he has never associated with coffee. Suddenly, he gets it. Like an epiphany.

He will never be anything but a dark and bitter coffee addict but, he decides, that perhaps it is time to make room for some sweetness in his life.

She breaks the kiss, breathlessly, and gazes up at him.

John feels something pounding against his ribs and realizes… oh. That is his heart.

"I should go." He says softly.

Helen nods, her hand unwinding from his neck. Her fingers caress his jaw as she brings it back. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Every day, he thinks, for the rest of his life.

[tessadoesstuff]

Run it with Love - Chapter 3

For Day 3 - Mandalorian

First Chapter! Previous Chapter! Next Chapter!

A non-linear story of Bly, Aayla, and Quinlan in the time of the Knights of the Old Republic games (about 3,800 years before the prequels) designed to be read without any knowledge of that game or time.

“Kot.” Bly tapped his bracer twice, never breaking eye contact from Master Quinlan. Aayla cackles and throws her arm around her boyfriend.

“What does that mean?” Mission asks, from where she's deep in a card game with Zaalbar and Sam. Aayla has been watching her cheat like no one’s business, and she’s fairly sure Zaalbar is cheating too. Sam is not, and as such is losing horribly.

“It’s a prayer for strength to the part of the Force that’s fine with shooting assholes[1].” Bly responds, and Aayla suppresses a giggle. She had known it was a prayer for strength, but not what they were praying to. She wonders who came up with it. It sounds like something one of the Shebse would do.

Bastila makes a small noise from where she’s helping Carth make dinner. Aayla can tell the sound is around 70% amusement and only 30% offense, which is a far better ratio than the female Jedi would have had at the start of their journey together. It’s good to see her loosening up.

“Show me how?” Mission asks, setting her cards face down on top of T3-M4’s flat head. The droid beeps in response and rolls out of reach of the game’s other players, over to where HK-47 is cleaning one of its many weapons.

“Sure.” Bly responds with an easy grin, and gestures at her to come over. “The phrase is Mando’a-” Bly starts, but is interrupted with a loud decisive snort from Canderous in the corner.

The older Mandolorian hasn’t spoken since he came back from whatever room he had dragged Mission off to after her confrontation with Griff. Aayla had no idea what Canderous said to the younger Twi’lek, but Mission had seemed much perkier since she got back, and there was almost no trace of the moping there had been prior to it, her hurt and betrayal dulled.

“That’s not real Mando’a.” Canderous responds irritably. From what Aayla has seen, Canderous gets on like a house on fire with Mission and Sam, but Aayla can feel the way he can barely stand to be in a room with Bly. Bly knows too, Canderous has not been subtle, but he responds politely anyways.

“Of course not. The phraseology is Mando’a, but the motion is Kamino-teh.[2]” Bly responds, and Aayla can feel him rolling his eyes and quoting someone. Aayla adds it to her list of questions to ask him tonight. Canderous makes a very derisive noise.

“The kark is Kamino-teh?”

“Watch your language around the child!” Carth calls back at Canderous. He is ignored. Mission cackles. Bastila wraps her arm around Carth with a sigh.

“Kamino-teh is the culture of the planet of Kamino, where my Vode and I were raised, it’s where our offshoot of Mandalorian culture comes from.” Bly responds. His full attention appears to be on the conversation now, and Mission doesn’t look too disappointed, given from the way she and Sam are watching it like a sporting match. Master Quinlan had vanished as soon as Canderous had started speaking, likely to find Juhani for the mediation they did together every day.

“A Mandalorian offshoot.” Canderous leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Yes. A fairly new but large one in our time.” Bly responds, voice carefully level.

“Is that how you justify working so closely with Jedi, after everything they did to Mandalore? Or do you just care nothing for Mandalorian glory.” Aayla snakes her hand up Bly’s back to rest in between his shoulder blades. He’s in his shell, even if his helmet is off, so there isn’t much she can do, but she does her best to radiate calm before Bly launches himself at Canderous.

“You can keep your Mandalorian glory. I’ll fight alongside those who share my moral code instead.” Bly crosses his arms back at Canderous. “Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the only one fighting alongside Jedi now.”

“I fight alongside Sam and the others because I respect their strength.” Canderous responds, and Bly battlesigns and-adopted at Aayla. She struggles to not laugh. “They have proven themselves to be beacons of strength to follow.”

“And have my Jedi not? They are both incredibly talented at what they do. You didn’t even realise Master Vos was a Jedi when he was undercover as your partner on Taris.” Bly argues back at Canderous. The older Mandalorian pauses and then nods.

“I suppose they have.” Canderous concedes the point, and a gruff understanding bleeds into the force, surprising Aayla.

“What Canderous means to say is he’s sorry if he offended you, he’s just concerned by the many different paths taken by Mandalorians after the war, and he’s worried Mandalore will never again unite properly!” Mission chirps from where she has settled herself next to Bly on the couch. Aayla silently vows to never tell Mission a secret.

“Well in that case, tell Canderous ‘apology accepted’, and that if he’s worried about Mandalorians betraying their codes of honor and never coming back, then maybe they were never really Mandalorians at all.” Bly responds, and Aayla can’t help but wrap him in a hug after that. Sometimes, Bly has moments where he catches her off guard. It’s incredibly attractive.

“Alright, save the philosophy debates for later, dinner’s ready!” Carth calls, and there is a scramble to make it to the table before all of Carth’s Telosian BBQ gets claimed.

“Save me a plate!” Comes Juhani’s voice drifting down the hallway from the cargo hold. Aayla laughs and calls back an affirmative as she watches Bly bump shoulders with Canderous.

“We’ll finish this conversation after dinner?”

“Deal.”

---

1 This is a direct reference to A Prayer for Strength in Adversity, by Projie, the original creator of soft wars. In fact, it is taken nearly verbatim from that story. [return to text].

2 see above. [return to text].

this debate never ends. It does eventually evolve into them comparing notes on Vode culture vs traditional Mando culture though. Mission is endlessly fascinated.

[mobius-prime]

180. Sonic the Hedgehog #112

Welcome to a very special issue! Nearly every page is packed with really interesting and relevant information, dealing with the emotional issues of a few important characters, and also containing not one, not two, three, or four, but FIVE different character profiles! This is a really meaty one, so let's get busy!

Mistaken Identity Crisis!

Writer: Benny Lee Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Josh & Aimee Ray

So we got a little bit of a hint about it last issue, but ever since his free will has been restored, General D'Coolette and Antoine have been spending a lot of time together, making up for lost time as father and son. They're strolling through Knothole one day when out of nowhere, a dimensional portal begins to crackle above their heads, and Sonic, recognizing the look of the portal, rushes over just in time to catch Zonic as he falls from it.

Aww, don't feel bad, Antoine! Weirdly enough, for most of this issue, the artists seem to have forgotten that Zonic is supposed to be affected by sideways gravity, and so when Sonic rushes him off to the hospital he's just lying down in an ordinary bed without any problems. It's honestly not too big of a deal, but it is weird, especially given that later issues that go further into the concept of the No Zone actually incorporate this idea of sideways gravity into the story in some quite fascinating and unique ways. Dr. Quack begins looking after the injured Zonic, but until he wakes up from his stupor, they'll be unable to find out who attacked him, so for now Sonic heads back out of the hospital to go talk to Antoine and his father once again. The general is clearly very impressed at Sonic's heroism and valor, but while Sonic is initially happy to receive the praise, he notices Antoine is looking troubled behind his father's back, and, realizing that he's feeling unappreciated, decides to help him out.

I mean, while I disagree that Antoine isn't a hero, it's incredibly sweet of Sonic to go out of his way to ensure that Antoine can look good in front of his father. I would actually say that Antoine is the definition of brave, as bravery isn't just feeling unafraid in the face of danger, it's actually being afraid, but stepping up anyway, which is exactly what Antoine always does when he's faced with something terrifying. Sonic strolls away after explaining his plan, and Antoine goes back to his father feeling confident and excited about whatever Sonic might be cooking up, but as soon as Sonic is out of earshot he's called back to the hospital to speak to Zonic, who is waking up.

So one of Sonic's "worst enemies" is hanging around here, huh? Meanwhile, Antoine is giddily describing a somewhat-embellished fight between him and Robotnik to his father when none other than, who else, Evil Sonic shows up to ruin their day! Antoine is certain that this is in fact Sonic Prime, merely dressed up and putting on a performance to give Antoine the chance to show off by beating him up in front of his dad, and thus immediately karate chops him on the head, knocking him out. Sonic and Zonic exit the hospital and come racing up, pleased and amused to see Evil Sonic already out cold, and Sonic knowingly congratulates an oblivious Antoine on his victory…

See, Antoine? You're a courageous hero after all!

All right, now before we dive into the backup story for this issue, we've got a lot of character info to cover! Our first character to look at is Sonic himself. Since he's what I used to get my measurement ratios, his height and weight are the same as those from the games. He's 100 cm or 3'3" tall, and weighs 35 kg or 77 lbs. We already know he's sixteen, though by now I'd imagine he's a little closer to seventeen as it's been a while since he celebrated his last birthday. But when is his birthday, exactly? Well, it's actually not the same as his birthday in the games - in the Archieverse, his birthday is on June 11. Now, remember how I said several issues ago to keep in mind the date of Robotnik's death during Endgame? That date was June 13… and Endgame took place over the course of three days. Which means that, yes, the mission where Sally supposedly died took place on Sonic's birthday.

This changes goddamn everything. Can you imagine? Sonic isn't so bigheaded that he would expect all operations against Robotnik to cease just to celebrate his own birthday, so of course he wouldn't be too fazed over having to infiltrate Robotropolis on his big day. He probably expected a successful mission and a happy return to Knothole, where he and his friends would have a little celebration of both the mission and his birthday. Instead, he was abandoned at the city, and returned on his own to Knothole to the news that his childhood best friend was dead and he was suspect numero uno. What was supposed to be a day of celebration turned into his worst goddamn nightmare. Two days later, of course, everything was resolved and Robotnik was dead, but still, what a horrible thing to deal with while it was all still going on! I will also note that this gives a little more perspective to the amount of time he and Tails were away from Mobotropolis while in search of Naugus. They returned (and Elias was brought back from the Floating Island) on his sixteenth birthday, meaning that in between defeating Robotnik and returning to Mobotropolis after defeating Naugus, an entire year had passed. The comics are finally starting to really solidify the timeline of events and pay more attention to the passing of time, and we can see it all coming together by the inclusion of these dates.

Apart from all of that, the rest of the page doesn't tell us much that we don't already know. It hasn't been mentioned in a long time, but yes, Sonic's middle name is still officially Maurice. His real first name is listed as being "unknown," but luckily, I have the power of internet research on my side! He never got a chance to include it before he stopped working on the comic, but Kenders originally intended to eventually reveal that Sonic's birth name was in fact Ogilvie, which is a real-world surname that is Scottish in origin. Apparently, he was named after one of his grandfathers, but quickly picked up the nickname Sonic due to his running everywhere as a small child, and eventually legally changed it to such, because no one wants to be stuck with the first name Ogilvie. I mean, come on! Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog? That's the worst name I've ever heard in my goddamn life! Actually no offense to Kenders on this one though, I'm not meaning to imply that I disagree with this idea on his part, as the entire point of it is obviously meant to be that Sonic was born with a horrendous name and was eager to change it to something better as soon as he grew old enough to choose for himself. With that context, it's downright hilarious.

But Sonic isn't our only character file to look at! Next up, we have Knuckles, who actually gets two whole pages to himself due to how much content there is within his own backstory. First, his measurements. He's 103 cm or 3'5" tall, which is a little bit shorter than his game counterpart, and he weighs 37.4 kg or 82.3 lbs. He's also sixteen, though with a birthday of September 8 he's a few months younger than Sonic, as we already know. His actual file, though it mostly again just covers info we have already received through past issues, gives us some more context for how his earliest years of life went. He was in fact taken out to the Floating Island for Guardian training at the age of only three years old, and his father essentially homeschooled him in basic things like math and science while also training him in his inherited duties. We also find out that in fact he was only ten years old when his father left for Haven through the wall of fire, which even given his accelerated development as a child is still quite young to be left with the impression that one has been abandoned by the only parent one has ever known. Over the five or so years before he met Sonic, Knuckles became quite sour and bitter in attitude, seeing as he knew nothing of why he was abandoned and why he was even here, and his only friend on the island was Catweazle, who as we know isn't exactly the kindest or most reliable of friends. Of course, once Sonic and Robotnik showed up, and he met the other members of the Chaotix, he began to lighten up more and enjoy life, as well as learn everything about his race's history and as his own personal destiny, but it's honestly quite sad just imagining this lonely, near-friendless ten year old Knuckles wandering the island, listlessly doing his duties because that's all he's ever known while believing himself to essentially be an orphan. Even in the games, Knuckles at the very least knows nothing of his own past, so there's nothing for him to feel sad about, no real sense of personal loss - he's just alone. I'd say it's worse for preboot Archie Knuckles, as he does have those memories of loving parents and a sense of purpose - he just doesn't have those things anymore. Again, he did eventually get back everything that could make him happy, but still, it's sad to think about.

Okay, onto the next one! This time we're looking at Miles "Tails" Prower. He's 80 cm or 2'7" tall, and weighs 30.6 kg or 67.3 lbs. His height is actually exactly the same as his game counterpart's, but he weighs significantly more - about 50% more, in fact. I'm going to attribute that to his older age, as in the games he's only eight, while in the comics he's currently eleven years old, with his birthday being on October 24. His original backstory explained that his father was roboticized the same day he was born, but we find out here too that at some point after Robotnik's coup, his mother mysteriously disappeared as well - not roboticized, mind you, as otherwise she and Tails would have reunited after the sword restored all the Robians' free will. For whatever reason, neither of his parents have shown up at all ever since their disappearances. Most of the rest of the info is, again, stuff we already know, but we actually run into a bit of a discrepancy with the reiteration that the Tails we've currently been following in the comics is actually a false duplicate, with the real Tails missing somewhere. The initial issue that revealed that he was a duplicate made it seem like he was replaced somehow when he was in transit with Athair from Knothole's public school to Knuckles' location, but this page claims that instead the switcheroo happened all the way back in freaking StH#56, which was the very first time he ever transformed into Turbo Tails. If this was true, then we wouldn't have seen the real Tails since very shortly after Robotnik was first defeated all the way back in Endgame! It would mean that the entire, nearly-year-long adventure with Sonic around the world in search of Naugus never happened with the real Tails, and that for all intents and purposes the real Tails would not even be aware of the renewed war against Eggman. This is definitely a mistake, as every other issue that acknowledges his replacement with the duplicate indicates that he was indeed replaced when Athair teleported him away, but it's still such a bizarre mistake to make given how much time has passed since the first Turbo Tails incident.

Okay, next up, we have Amy Rose! She's 92 cm tall or 3 feet exactly, and weighs 28.7 kg or 63.1 lbs, which is actually less than Tails despite being a good bit taller than him. As we know, she's a bit of a special case in terms of age - mentally she's ten years old, while the Ring of Acorns aged her physically to about the equivalent of a sixteen year old. Interestingly, her birthday is on July 5, which if you'll remember is also Sally's birthday! I kind of like that two characters share a birthday, honestly. Amy's page actually does give us quite a bit of background info on her that we've never heard before, unlike many of the others'. Apparently, she actually lived in Mercia her whole life, which is why she was merely Sonic's pen pal in StH#25 - she lived overseas. She was born to Mercian nobility, but her extremely rich parents became overwhelmed with sympathy after witnessing the plight of so many of those less fortunate during the two back-to-back wars, and decided to give up the entirety of their wealth to charity, officially making them the coolest rich people that have ever existed. However, unfortunately, soon afterward both of them were lost in the fighting against General D'Coolette and Robotnik's other agents in the area. She was taken in by Rob - who weirdly enough is described as her "father's brother" here despite every other source saying they're cousins - and once she had recovered somewhat from the loss, he sent her to live in Knothole with the hope that it would be safer for her there, apparently not being aware of the extremely close proximity the village had to the literal center of the war. From there, we basically know the rest, including her sudden age-up from wishing on the ring. Apparently she still has plans to marry Sonic someday, but unlike her game counterpart she keeps these intentions strictly hidden, understanding that Sonic isn't the mushy type and hoping to wait for the right chance to win his heart in the future. Man, it actually kind of seems like she understands exactly what I was talking about last issue about his lack of romantic attitude, huh?

Okay, last off we have a file for not a single character, but the entirety of the Brotherhood of Guardians! Unfortunately for this post, it really doesn't tell us anything new. We do get a look at a picture of every Guardian in their prime all lined up together, and a brief history of the formation of the organization, all the way from scientist Kayla-La's discovery of the incoming comet bearing down on their city, down to Knuckles today in the middle of his evolution into a living Chaos Emerald. Athair is included in the lineup, as even though he ultimately rejected his role as a Guardian, he still was part of the bloodline beginning with Edmund. Other than that, we really got nothing new from this, so it's time to finally end our journey through this issue's numerous profiles and move on to our backup story!

Forgiven

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Josh D. Ray

So we haven't actually heard anything about Lupe and her pack for some time, but with every Robian's free will restored, she and her family are back to normal, albeit still roboticized. They've been staying in Knothole for the past few days, but now everyone is throwing them a going-away party as they plan to head back to their own homeland once more. Sonic goes into Uncle Chuck's lab to invite him to the party, but Chuck, seeming uncomfortable, uses the excuse that he's too busy to go right now. Sonic leaves, but a few minutes later returns… having brought the party with him. He seems pleased by his own genius, obviously not having noticed Chuck's mood, and while Chuck tries to smile for his nephew's benefit he's actually torn up inside at seeing everyone so happy.

Lupe notices his mood and follows him, claiming that she's noticed that he's been avoiding her and her entire family ever since they regained their free will. At first he attempts to deny it, but it becomes apparent that he's actually wracked with horrible guilt over it being he who roboticized them in the first place.

It's honestly so sad to see Chuck like this. He's a genuinely good person and a great character whose past decisions inadvertently led to some of the worst tragedies this world has seen, and he clearly blames himself for all of it, despite having no way of knowing how things would have turned out. He quietly says that all he truly wants is to be forgiven by those he's wronged… but while he and Lupe were talking, everyone else in the party has come out as well and overheard his last statement. Sally says to him that they can't do that unless he's willing to forgive himself first, and Lupe, determined to show him that no one blames him, announces that the celebration is no longer just about her family, but about honoring Chuck as well. He becomes overwhelmed with emotion and embraces her, thanking her profusely, as everyone cheers. Hopefully, this encounter will allow him to finally put some of that guilt to rest, poor guy. He's suffered enough.

[korranguyen]

Some thoughts on romance in TDP and ATLA: What Does Rayllum Get Right?

Okay, I know this post doesn’t do much service to this claim, but I don’t love the idea of directly comparing ships to one another. Every relationship is different in the context it takes place, and it’s just as unfair to directly compare any two relationships as it would be to compare two different couples in real life: every person, and by extension, every character, is unique in their own way. Not to mention I’m a bit hesitant to write this because TDP just found its footsteps away from ATLA with the new season, and I honestly fear plaguing the lovely positivity of the TDP fan base with old wounds from the ATLA ship wars.

BUT since there are already a lot of popular Kataang/Rayllum comparison posts floating around, I feel the need to share my two cents on the bit as someone who wholeheartedly enjoys the trajectory of Rayllum, but had my... reservations when it came to the canonized romance in ATLA.

Instead of dwelling on those reservations, though, I’m gonna focus on talking about and validating the parts of the ships we do like (meaning both Zutarians and Kataangers).

This essay, in a nutshell:

Two ships form an unlikely bond and find their peace in the midst of warring kingdoms fandoms. #amirite

What Rayllum Learns from Zutara

TBQH I surprised by how many embraced the Kataang/Rayllum parallels because the setup itself reminded me of Zutara— not Kataang. They share a similar origin story: Rayla threatens Callum in an attempt to pursue his little brother, just like how Zuko often pursued Katara to capture Aang. Their introductions are antagonistic, if not explicitly violent, but because the writers take the time to humanize both characters outside of these interactions, the audience understands that these conflicts happen because they’re driven by motivations from opposite sides of the war. Of course, when they are forced to become allies, it’s... not as smooth-sailing as you’d expect.

At its core, both Rayllum and Zutara are very cautious friendships. They don’t trust each other right away. It’s not perfect; they have their outbursts, reluctance to trust, and painful blows to their bond. But against all odds they eventually establish trust in each other. And because that trust isn’t just given, but needs earning, it takes its time dwelling on wounds necessary to transgress those lines and establishes extra depth in the meantime, making it well-earned and conducive to an understanding relationship. When they find their peace and friendship, it feels earned and respected on both sides, and both parties have a deeper understanding of each other than they could've had with a happy-go-lucky friendship.

Also, a side effect of the bitter work (sorry I had to lol) it took to to build that relationship, both Zutara and Rayllum have become especially in-tune with each other’s emotional cues. On the behalf of Zutara, there’s the moment when Katara comforts Zuko as he’s cowering in front of his uncle’s tent. She immediately recognizes that something’s wrong and approaches him about it:

Zuko opened up to Katara yet again about his insecurities and fears just like he did in Ba Sing Se. I love how easy it is for him. Zuko’s normally so guarded yet doesn’t mind being vulnerable with Katara. He’s so worried because he doesn’t see how Uncle Iroh can forgive him. It’s important that Katara’s the one encouraging him because she was also someone he betrayed that day. Someone who had faith in him to make the right choice, someone who changed for the better. She forgave him and she knows Iroh will too. That carries some weight with him. 

-- Geektastic08

Because of how many more opportunities Rayllum than Zutara to show off their perceptiveness of each others’ emotions, I could name off a lot of similar moments-- but I’m going to go with when Rayla slices open the mummy on the Cursed Caldera. When she returns and anxiously gets to ushering people forward, Callum notices almost instantly that Rayla’s acting off and expresses his concern. And, of course, Rayla opens up that she did, indeed, see something “horrible”— immediately opening up to him on the fact she was afraid, almost instinctively overcoming her reluctance to show her fears and weaknesses as established from previous episodes when Callum is the one who asks about it.

Also, this:

"I know that face. It’s your dumb idea face.” =)

Another reason: balanced-out co-parenting is a thing (Ezran vs. the rest of the Gaang).

On a more grand-scheme note, their relationship actually also shares a lot of the same “thematic importance” as Zutara as a symbol of overcoming differences and bonding. As cheesy as this line low-key is (IMO), Harrow says:

“I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love.”

Yeah, read by the human boy crossing foreign lands with a she-elf to return the Dragon Prince to his mother as a gesture of bonding elves and humans and ending the war between nations. Having faith that history can be rewritten as a narrative of love and compassion.

To top it off, Rayllum owns it when it comes to living up to the not-overtly-kissy romantic foreshadowing of Zutara.

This is an allusion to the established Moon symbolism from earlier in the episode. As painful as it was, finding out about the king winds up illuminating, and eventually fulfilling, the possibility of deeper relationship and understanding of trust they originally couldn't see (but was still there) when Callum crosses the barrier into the “light face” from the “dark, shadowed side”. 

Also, this shipper’s haven scene:

Agh, yes.

What Rayllum learns from Kataang

Okay, so one of the bigger (and very understandable) issues with Zutara is that all of their development (aside from “Crossroads of Destiny”) happens very late in the last season. No matter how solid the moments we do get are, there simply isn’t enough time to fully wash away their damaged terms only a couple episodes prior, much less transgress necessary lines before a healthy relationship can occur. Whether or not their build-up does justice for their relationship arc as friends, by the end of ATLA, Zutara’s negative interactions still outnumber their positive ones by a sheer majority, so pushing that relationship into romance so soon comes with negative implications. (Which is where the Book 4 rumors seep in, but let’s not touch those today)(Anyway, even as a person who generally supports Zutara, I don’t advocate for that relationship to be “endgame”, or even as a part of canonized material because romance that soon after establishing that trust wouldn’t have conducive to a healthy relationship.)

On the other hand, Kataang gets a lot more credit in the time department. Because their friendship is established in such a positive light from the very first episode, Kataang has the benefit of faith from their countless endearing moments capturing a casual, comfortable friendship we can know and love, and then can grow nostalgic about over time. Even when their angrier moments play out, they usually fizzle out in the pool of happier memories they already have, so such instances are easily forgivable from the majority of the audience.

Now, despite initially being at odds with each other, Rayllum is established early enough to have the advantage of 5/6/7 seasons under its belt to build to that healthy relationship. Even in the less-immediate circumstances of their trust, the show still leaves plenty of time to fill with the necessary builds and prove their friendship through positive interactions. This is evidenced by the fact that by the end of Season 2, their negative interactions— even Rayla’s original position as Callum/Ezran’s killer— is water long down the bridge.

(Random tangent: To all who believe Zutara is an unforgivably abusive ship because of Katara’s and Zuko’s previous enemy relationship, let me pitch this to you: Rayla literally corners Callum and holds a blade in his face, about to kill him in the second episode yet Rayllum is very inarguably not abusive. The issue with Zutara isn’t that it’s inherently a sour relationship because they used to be enemies, it’s that there’s a dire lack of time to ease the ratio of interactions of Zuko hurting Katara to him helping her before the end of the show where starting that immediate relationship would have come with poor implications. In the case of Rayllum, Rayla actually gets a very extended chance to make that up in a larger span of time and exceeded those numbers two weeks ago long ago)

Thanks to all that screentime, maybe if our Season-2-Shipper-Scenes can be read as glimpses of a possible building crush early on like Kataang’s, that’ll stir up some of the heartstring garble later that it did with Kataang, too (for some, at least).

Rayllum’s interactions share the lovable silliness of Kataang. When it comes to picturing your ideal, sugarcane relationship, we will often find our soft spots in the couples who spend the most time smiling, laughing or being casually friendly with each other.

Also, here’s an interesting parallel: Katara was Aang’s primary support through his loss, just like Rayla was for Callum. Also, both Katara and Rayla struggled to hide the fact from their “romantic counterparts” at first, in fear of hurting newfound friendships with people they cared about, only to have this backfire later. However, I’d say it’s interesting to note that because Callum is almost 3 years older than Aang and thus arguably in a different phase of maturity (older childhood at 12 vs. teen at almost 15), the way they processed that realization took remarkably different forms between the two characters. Breaking the news to Callum meant surfacing more relationship-based questions about trust, meeting its resolution in a heart-to-heart conversation about honesty and hurting people you care about. On the other hand, because Aang is still, for most purposes, a child, that recognition on Aang’s part, as well as the honesty/lack of censorship on Katara’s part, doesn’t exist as much as an expectation in that relationship. Consequently, Aang’s grief process in “The Southern Air Temple” was wholly Aang-centric, coming to life in a display of rage and pain before he comes to accept his new position as the avatar and the last airbender in the arms of his new “family”. (I actually think the most obvious comparison to Aang here is Ezran, who became angry and ran away when he found out about his father’s death, then returned with a fuller understanding of the newfound individual responsibility he must face despite not being ready for as a growing kiddo. But that’s a discussion for another time; maybe I’ll write something on that later). 

Of course, the aforementioned covert foreshadowing of the Zutara ship comes coupled (pun intended) with the overt romantic foreshadowing of the Kataang ship! Because what kid (or kid in the heart) doesn’t let out the giddy squeals over that.

Also, it’s the male and female lead. Everyone’s gotta love those characters! Bet you money all the 2010s children who watch TDP are gonna get hella attached to that stuff and rack up the tears on how well-elaborated those characters were and how perfect they were for each other through thick-lens nostalgia goggles when they grow up. That’s just how dat shit works.

TL;DR If Zutara was too “dark” or “intriguing”, or “bound to make six year olds cry” (as Ehasz himself supposedly said in a class at UC Berkeley; lol), Rayllum re-illustrates that arc with the cushiness of a clear, lovable path and the positive-interaction-to-death-threat ratio, audience faith, (love for small critters,) and longer friendship screentime of Kataang.

Rayllum shares all of the literary nuances of Zutara and the sweet lovability of Kataang. And then adds its own little sparks of healthiness.

It’s a ship built for everyone to fall in love with.

I honestly don’t care whether this winds up being a very strong friendship or a romantic relationship (though I’m inclined to believe from the narrative that it’s the latter), but no matter the direction the show takes, I love their relationship so much and have full faith it’ll be done right.

Let me know if I missed anything else! I know I might be missing the narrative importance and/or parallels others might see in Kataang because I’m a bit biased to Zutara as the poster of this multi-ship analysis (though I tried my best to counteract it for objectivity), so especially if you’re a Kataanger, let me know what you’ve noticed and I’ll be happy to add it in.

positive/non-warring reax only please :)

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E8: The Pest/The Legend of Big Kid

It’s a happy day, because we have been gifted both a Gretchen episode and a TJ episode! But it’s also a very fraught day, emotionally, for reasons you’ll soon discover. (There’s a good kicker, at least, for your trouble. No spoilers, but the ending of “The Pest” goes exactly as I’ve relayed it here.)

Read on for relationship advice, feminism, and a brief aside about white colonists in Africa:

The Pest

How To Make A Boy You Don’t Like Leave You Alone

by Gretchen Grundler

I don’t hate boys. Anyone who says that about me is simply incorrect. Four of my best friends are boys — my friend Spinelli and I are the only two girls in our group. When I’m fighting that kind of gender ratio and still enjoy their company, how could I ever hate them?

But some boys in particular are not worth my time. As a person who recently had an experience deflecting one of these boys’ advances over an extended period of time, I feel I am uniquely qualified to dole out advice on this matter.

I’m sort of spoiling the endgame here, but let me say, it is scores more effective to deal with troublesome boys yourself than to leave them to your teacher. Miss Grotke may mean well, but she’s a teacher, after all. At the core of her philosophy is law and order. Plus, in Miss Grotke’s case, she’s a much bigger proponent of letting us work out our own issues. Everyone wins.

You may feel hopeless, though, when a boy you don’t like starts bothering you in class. Maybe you want to tell the teacher. But that’s just a quick fix, and not a particularly effective one. It’s a band-aid. It won’t translate to your interactions on the playground, which is where your reputation really matters. (Okay, your academic reputation also matters. Maybe more.)

Of course, you may not know he likes you until he TELLS THE ENTIRE SCHOOL AT THE SAME TIME AND YOU JUST HAVE TO SIT THERE AND TAKE IT BECAUSE IF YOU DENY IT RIGHT AWAY THE ENTIRE PLAYGROUND WILL BE TOO BUSY LAUGHING TO NOTICE.

Whew, that felt good.

Still, nothing brings the playground together like a common laughingstock, and that was me. And when there’s a common laughingstock — the K-I-S-S-I-N-G chants were still ringing in my ears long after they happened — this empowers the boy you don’t like. Because suddenly, he’s not working for his cause alone. Suddenly, the entire playground is on his side.

What did I do? Well, I felt entirely hopeless. I tossed and turned every night, vivid dreams of this boy and I getting married and having children and growing old together disrupting my sleep. I was so distressed that I didn’t come to school the next day until lunch, which isn’t like me at all, of course. I want to stress, that was a one-time course of action. When he found me in the cafeteria, my friends tried to protect me, but alas, my lovestruck friend Mikey was starting to be won over by this boy’s persistence.

The first action I took was to simply cancel out what this boy had done to me first, declaring his love for me to the whole school. According to my calculations, it had the least risk and the most reward. Unfortunately, when a girl tells the whole school she isn’t romantically involved with a boy, they tend to believe the opposite. A boy publicly announcing his love for a girl, even against her wishes, is revolutionary, a real risk, something to be lauded. A girl publicly announcing her rejection of a boy is, well, mean. There are many high-school names a girl in my position might be called, but I won’t trouble you with them.

After even more pestering at school, even up to him talking to me through the vent that connects the boys’ bathroom and the girls’ bathroom, I had had enough. On the bus home, I told him I wouldn’t speak to him anymore, recognizing that ignoring him hadn’t worked in the past, but I was desperate for any semblance of peace and quiet, even if it was from me. 

You know what he said? “I’ll take your silence as a yes,” and, “Denial is the sincerest form of flattery.” That’s not even the phrase! And if he was taking silence as a yes, why wouldn’t he take me saying “no” as a no?

The next action I took was drastic — high risk, a potential of a lifetime of punishment if it went south — but I knew it was a risk I had to take. I marched up to this boy at school the next day and called him out. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs and locked us together for eternity. The key? Gone. This boy? Presumably having the time of his life.

Except...he wasn’t. As I regaled him with all the things I would make him do that day — math club, spelling bee practice, a frog dissection over lunch — robbing him of his agency for perhaps the very first time, he broke down immediately. I pulled out the spare key to the handcuffs and set him free.

He said he just wanted to show me how much he liked me. But if we don’t call out this entitlement early, who knows when this awakening might have occurred for him? How many more girls would have had to suffer this ordeal?

“You know, Spinelli? Boys are really weird,” I told my friend when this was all said and done. “I know what you mean,” she replied. “Can’t live with them, can’t grind them into chalk dust.”

My eyes lit up as I thought of a science project I had been working on in my spare time.

“Well, actually, you could,” I said. Because I may be one to take one for the team, to put myself in harm’s way to try to mitigate future suffering at the hands of another person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t always have a backup plan.

Takeaway: Hot damn, this episode made me mad!

The Legend of Big Kid

Is Kirby Puckett the greatest outfielder that ever lived?

I'm not much of a stats person beyond the basics — field goal percentage, sacks, errors, the ones that will come up in conversation on a regular game broadcast. So, aside from a quick glance at his career numbers, which tell a story about his career, I can’t tell you if Kirby Puckett was the greatest outfielder that ever lived. (I will say that his number was retired a few months before this episode aired, which was a few years before the domestic violence allegations against him came out.)

Anyway, lucky for us, Vince and TJ can’t make this decision either, and it’s during their argument that they stumble right into the setting for this episode: the old playground that allegedly hasn’t been used since the 1970s. (Yet it’s on campus? Okay, okay, suspension of disbelief. My elementary school had a whole bunch of ways to get off campus during recess without anyone noticing, but it wasn’t done with any regularity — it’s possible they just didn’t know it was there.)

But it turns out someone has been using it, and recently, because TJ falls into a trap. As he’s hanging upside-down from the monkey bars, the two hear the rumbling of kindergarteners approaching. TJ tells Vince to save himself, but Vince instead distracts them so that perhaps TJ can get away. Vince, though, doesn’t realize how far or how fast he’s been running, because before he knows it, he’s back at the regular playground sobbing into Spinelli’s arms about how he could have done more to save his friend.

The coast seems clear, so the gang heads back to the old playground to get TJ, but he’s gone. Gretchen posits the kindergarteners must have taken him back to their pen, but that’s deserted, too. “They’ve probably migrated to their winter encampment,” she says, which doesn’t make the rest of the gang any less terrified for TJ’s safety.

We then get a jarring prisoner log from TJ, who tells us, “The unthinkable has happened. I am a prisoner of the kindergarteners.” He’s in a cage, unsure how much time has passed, and he’s not sure what his captors have planned for him. One of them — their leader, who TJ calls “Captain Sticky,” calls him “Big Kid” and tosses him some candy. TJ refuses to eat it, in case they’re fattening him up to eat him, but eventually is too hungry to say no.

Meanwhile, the gang is busy hustling the rest of the school, asking if they saw the kindergarteners, if there was a fourth-grader with them. The outcome appears bleak for TJ — everyone knows what might happen if those kids got a hold of an older kid: nothing good.

TJ, though, is...starting to like captivity, or at least get used to it. Whereas the kindergarteners first have to threaten him with weapons (crayons and paintbrushes attached to the end of yardsticks) to join them in tasks like finger painting and napping, he quickly assimilates to their ways.

Gretchen finds TJ’s shoe on the playground, lost in one of the initial scuffles, and Vince erupts in a “Noooo!” so heart-wrenching, you forget that TJ is, well, okay. Because the gang doesn’t know that. The kindergarteners are too elusive. No one knows what they’re up to except them.

But the gang acts on a more promising lead as Gretchen uncovers a still-wet lollipop. The trail is hot again!...just as we see TJ napping again, riding tricycles, and playing musical chairs. Is he too far gone?

When the gang arrive back at the old playground, they fall into yet another trap. Someone locks them in a cage, and the kindergarteners assemble, beating drums and shrieking. (We will...have to talk about how the kindergarteners are portrayed at some point in these recaps. There’s a very obvious white settler colonist, Indiana Jones, “thrilling adventures through untamed Africa!” look about them.)

The drumbeats slow, and who should walk out but...Big Kid. Well, TJ. The gang are shocked at how quickly the kindergarteners have completely taken hold of their friend, who now dresses like the kindergarteners, acts like the kindergarteners, and speaks like the kindergarteners. He won’t listen when they try to tell them who he is.

Somehow, it’s Vince talking about baseball that brings him back, though. Little League. Kirby Puckett. And TJ breaks down in tears, wailing, because he’s been through so much.

The gang finally gets him out of there, and Spinelli has to help TJ tie his shoes. “Shoes, underpants, I can’t get used to all this stuff!” he exclaims, and they don’t get it. (Gus calls the kindergarteners “primitive.” See latest parenthetical section.) But Gretchen recognizes he’s in a better place to be able to listen to reason now, so after he tells the gang he misses the freedom of being able to do whatever he wants all day, she says, “Don’t you see? Their way of life is coming to an end. By this time next year, they’ll be first graders.”

And TJ does get it. With one last nod to Captain Sticky, they part ways.

Takeaway: Growing up is hard, especially when you’re a kid and it goes by so quickly. Perhaps giving into some indulgences of yesteryear isn’t all bad, though, so long as you balance them with your current life and don’t let them consume you.

[generalkenobi22]

Fic: as iron sharpens iron (Burn Notice) - 4K words & counting

SUMMARY: Somewhere along the way, at one point or another, Madeline tells them, “The three of you need to stick together.”

And that, more or less, is what they do.

So I know Burn Notice Week isn’t for a few weeks, but my work schedule is insane, and while I had a rare day off and moment to post, I seized it. More chapters will follow (one for each season) eventually. But for now, please enjoy the first part of as iron sharpens iron.

Can also be found on AO3.

————————————

Though one may be overpowered, Two can easily defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

—Ecclesiastes 4:12, NIV

—————————————

Somewhere along the way, at one point or another, Madeline tells them, "The three of you need to stick together."

And that, more or less, is what they do.

—

Even before he opens his eyes, Michael just...knows he's in Miami. Besides the humidity (he can feel the sweat pooling at his lower back) and the brilliant sunlight pouring through...wherever it's pouring in from (caves set high in the mountains of Afghanistan don't usually get a lot of natural light), he can hear the faint trace of calypso music coming in from outside.

So he doesn't actually need Fi to kick him with what feels like an especially sharp boot, but she takes it upon herself to do so anyway. Not that he knows it's her immediately. No, that little realization doesn't occur until after he momentarily blacks out from the pain (she was always a great markswoman, so it only makes sense that her foot connects directly to every single one of his cracked ribs) and before his head promptly begins pounding.

When he does finally see her (and hear her—he'd recognize that Irish brogue anywhere), it's...a lot. Especially since he halfway thought he would never see her again. Besides cosmetics (her hair's lighter, no bangs—she's tanner, too), she looks the same as she did the last time they were...together. And now she's here, in the flesh, complaining that he still has her listed as his emergency contact (he knew there was something else he needed to submit to H.R. when he last updated his W-4). It's equal parts comforting and completely unnerving.

There are countless questions running through his mind as he struggles to sit upright (who burned him, how can he contact his handler, is Fi still mad that he left, etc.?), but at least one of them is answered when Fi cheerfully admits that she contacted his mother.

Welcome to Miami.

—

Soon after, she ditches the accent. Buys a whole new wardrobe.

From a tactical standpoint, it makes sense—using camouflage to blend into your surroundings makes you a harder target to spot.

From a personal standpoint, it's still—well, she's—the whole thing is...it's a lot.

—

Sam Axe is what would happen if Magnum, P.I. ever did a reunion special where Magnum—a few decades older and well into retirement—started mooching off every widow and bored housewife in Oahu. And yet, unlike Magnum, with Sam it's a whole lot less grating and more...well, endearing.

With the exception of Fi (though even that might be stretching it at this point), he no longer has a secure network of people he trusts. Most of them, he assumes, went up in smoke alongside his job and identity the moment his burn notice was issued. That said, it's nice to see the familiar face of an old friend in the midst of it all.

Even if that friend sticks him with the bar tab when all he ordered was water.

—

It's practically an ambush, all things considered.

When Sam mentions his money laundering contact, Barry, and follows it up with, "We have to bring you up to speed, brother," Michael assumes he means an in-person introduction.

And it is, for all intents and purposes, an in-person introduction when Michael meets up with the two at Carlito's the next day...

But mostly, it's an ambush.

"So you're tellin' me Mike was absent for the whole dot-com boom?" Barry asks, as if Michael isn't sitting right there next to him. He's staring at Michael like he's the most fascinating installation at the Peréz Art Museum.

Sam, on the other hand, keeps looking at him with an almost insulting amount of pity. "'fraid so," he admits miserably, draining the last of his mojito. "Although he wasn't really absent, per se, just swamped with the whole covert black ops—"

"Sam," Michael cuts in, smile strained. "How about we avoid divulging classified intel to the stranger with the movie villain goatee I just met?" He looks Barry over once and holds up his hands placatingly. "No—well, some offense."

Barry frowns. "Some taken."

"Listen, Mikey, Barry's practically family," Sam says as he signals for the waitress to bring him a refill.

"Well," Barry clarifies, "estranged at best."

"Sure, fine." Sam redirects his attention back to Michael. "The point is: now that you're back in Miami, you have to be able to talk about non-job related topics. And that's pretty tough when you're not up to date on the last decade of popular culture."

Michael shifts uncomfortably. "I'm cultured," he insists, looking between both Sam and Barry. "For instance, the 2000 election? Here in Florida, there were hanging chads and—" Off their pained expressions, he switches tactics, having to dig deeper. "What about...?" He brightens. "J-Lo! She's still considered popular, right?"

Sam chuckles. "Not for the same reason you're thinking, Mike."

The waitress comes by with their drinks. Sam thanks her—his concluding wink almost subtle—but Barry looks like he might be sick.

"So, like...no American Idol?" he wants to know, his tone taking on an edge of urgency. "No Brangelina?" Michael shakes his head, wondering idly if Barry has started speaking Spanish somehow. "What about the Hilton twins? Or, even, Tom Cruise?"

"Wait, yes! He's the, uh, Top Gun guy."

"He was the Top Gun guy," Sam corrects. "Now he's just crazy."

Barry scrubs a hand over his face before downing his cocktail in one go. "I don't know, Sam. This is a much bigger job than you let on. I mean, I'm gonna have to clear my appointments for the day," he points out wearily, "and then I'm gonna have to deal with pissed off clients—wealthy and powerful pissed off clients."

Sam brushes him off. "Barry, this is for a worthy cause." He gestures over to Michael. "I mean, look at him!"

"I'm sitting right here," Michael reminds them through gritted teeth.

Ignoring him, Barry sighs and pulls his Blackberry out. Within seconds, he's shot out a half dozen texts containing haphazard apologies for the cancellations. "Fine," he relents. "Let's start with the basics."

"And make sure we touch on the 'Phins," Sam insists. "The last player Mike could name was Marino, and he hasn't been with the team since he retired in '99. It's embarrassing."

Michael emits a strangled sound of protest before he lets his head drop to the table with a soft, defeated thud.

—

No one is more surprised than Fi when Madeline, of all people, calls to invite her to play poker with her and some of the ladies from the neighborhood only a few short weeks after she makes the move to Miami permanent. With the exception of her sister, Claire, Fi has never really had many female friends. Not for lack of interest or trying, certainly, but the job does tend to have a frustratingly imbalanced male-to-female ratio.

So, obviously, she says yes. After all, it's not as though she could possibly decline. Not when Madeline had ended their phone call with an incredibly touching: "Fiona, honey, you're welcome over any time." And especially not when she can provide such crucial insight into Michael's early years.

In preparation, she finds the least threatening sundress she owns (A-line skirt, a floral pattern of goldenrods and peonies), and brings along a variety of snacks (surely these types of get-togethers operate like more civilized, less mind-numbingly boring stakeouts?).

When she arrives, Madeline greets her warmly with a hug (a bit of a surprise considering they've only ever spoken on the phone and haven't actually met in person before), places her snacks on the counter, and introduces her to the rest of the group. It's...nice. They're a friendly bunch: adorable retirees with a penchant for gossip and neighborhood intel that would put any spy to shame. A couple hours later, though, when she's down by nearly two hundred dollars, she has the sneaking suspicion it all may be a ruse designed to lull her into a false sense of security.

Oh, they are very good.

"So, Fiona," Evelyn asks her. She raises and throws a couple chips onto the growing pile at the center of the table. "How do you know Madeline's son?"

Fi takes in Evelyn's shockingly bright orange dye job as she thinks about how best to answer that question. Ex-girlfriend? Colleagues? Both invite their own share of difficult and obtrusive questions. She could go with "wife" (Michael would positively burst, she's sure of it), but Madeline would see right through that.

"He's my boyfriend." It's not...not true.

"How wonderful!" Madeline's other friend, Phyllis, exclaims. She has been knocking back Corona Extras like she hasn't had a spot to drink in months. "How long have the two of you been together?"

In addition to Madeline's affinity for nicotine, Evelyn seems to share her love of taking all of Fi's money. Fi folds and tosses her cards on the table.

"Oh!" she says suddenly playing at bashful and giggling. "It's—well, it's still kind of new—" Again, not...not true. "—but it feels like we've known each other forever."

She almost feels guilty at the way Madeline's face lights up, how her smile warms at her little fib. But she barely has time to dwell on it before the front door opens. When she turns around, she's met with the sight of Michael—in tan chinos and a light blue oxford—slack-jawed and cradling a casserole dish. She playfully waggles her fingers at him.

"Ma," he says carefully, only glancing at her briefly, his smile too forced to be genuine. "I thought you, me, and Fi were having dinner tonight. You said seven, right?"

Madeline brightens as she directs him and the casserole to the kitchen. "We are. Me and the girls are just finishing up." To the rest of the group, she says, "Ladies, this is my son, Michael!"

"Hey...Hi." He waves at them all awkwardly before taking the empty seat across from Fi, next to Evelyn. She shouldn't laugh, truly, but his discomfort in the face of the group's sudden enthusiasm over his distinctly male presence is palpable. She tries to hide her amusement by draining the contents of her beer bottle, but judging by the way Michael's brow darkens and his mouth practically thins into nonexistence, she is nowhere near successful.

Madeline is the last one to fold before Evelyn takes the pot. As she rakes in her winnings, Phyllis leans over toward Fi and makes it a point to say not at all quietly, "He's very handsome."

This time when she looks at Michael, unable to hide her amused grin, he smiles at Phyllis appreciatively before fixing Fi with a look of quiet desperation.

"Oh, he is!" She sighs dreamily and winks at him, relishing his discomfort only a little. He frowns back. "I'm the luckiest girl in all Miami."

—

It starts out innocently enough. Fi merely offers Sam a simple suggestion for how to properly apologize to Veronica—that unfortunate woman—yet somehow that evolves into him wanting to talk about all his "lady problems" with her.

(Seriously, that poor woman! She must be positively unwell. Perhaps she's deaf or blind? Best case scenario: she's deaf and blind, and this relationship is simply court-ordered community service outreach to the elderly.)

At first, Fi relished the thought that he picked her over Michael (who has all the emotional sensitivity of an unstable IED) to confide his most vulnerable secrets to, but it soon becomes too much. Phone calls, text messages, then phone calls and text messages. Eventually, she has to draw a line, demonstrate at least a little pride.

Plus, she's still pissed about the whole "him-costing-her-a-lot-of-money-because-he-interfered-with-her-legitimate-business-deal-with-the-Libyan-arms-dealer" thing, y'know? No one has ever accused her of letting go of a grudge too soon.

"I don't know what to tell you, Sam." She sighs dramatically as if talking to him is positively exhausting (which, it is) before she slams the trunk of her car closed, yoga mat in hand.

He blocks her path forward before she even has a chance to turn around. "Fi, you don't understand," he says desperately, and a small (fine, large) part of her finds a simple delight in his suffering. "This could be it for Veronica and me. She still hasn't forgiven me for the last job we pulled, and I—"

"Sam." Even saying his name is taking a lot of self-control at the moment. She manages to slip past him and dart across the street. To his credit, he keeps up and corners her in front of the studio. "I'm just too busy right now, and I'm going to be late." She holds up her mat pointedly and pushes past him to the front door. "So unless you want to join my Bikram yoga class, I—"

"Fine."

The little bell at the top of the door rings a second time as he follows her inside. As he not-at-all-subtly rakes his gaze over a couple of women in yoga pants on their way out, she gapes at him.

"What?" He shrugs when he catches her staring. "I told you: this is serious."

So that's how she finds herself some fifteen minutes later watching Sam—drenched through his linen slacks and hideous Hawaiian print shirt—struggling with downward facing dog on the mat right next to hers.

"Geez, Fi," he huffs, his gold chain now dangling over his chin, "you do this for fun?"

She watches as beads of sweat roll down his bright red face in rapid succession. It takes everything in her to keep a straight face.

"Why do you even pay for this?" he continues as if interrupting her meditation isn't enough. "If I wanted to exert myself in this much humidity, I'd ask my old CO to ship me back out to Kuwait, or hell, I could just as easily go outside.

It takes an immense amount of concentration for her to regain her balance (physically and spiritually) and counteract the irritation she's feeling, but she finally asks, short of snapping, "Wasn't there some...Veronica issue you wanted to discuss?"

"Fi," he says, breath haggard, "she's pissed about the car again."

She blinks as a bead of sweat hits her eye. "Well, of course she's pissed about the car." A little quieter, she hisses, "You practically blew it up!"

"I—" The instructor tells the class to transition to triangle pose just as the ventilation system switches back on, pumping more hot air into the confined space. Sam has to account for the increased sound, and the fact that her back is now to him when he clarifies, "That was for the job, and you know it, sister! It was either that, or a Czech assassin would have made mincemeat outta you, me, and Mikey."

She twists, fingers stretched out toward the ceiling. "Well, it's not about any of that for Veronica, Sam. It's...it's more like if you can't cherish her car, how could you possibly cherish her?" she explains as if it's the most obvious thing in the world (which, it is).

Sam's quiet for a moment—the instructor has them shift into chair pose—before he glances over at her. He swipes his soaked through hair out of his face. "Cherish, huh?"

She turns to him and nods, somewhat impressed that he has both made it this far in life being dense and that he hasn't passed out quite yet.

—

"So, neither of you will help me with this?"

Sam and Fi exchange a lazy glance before looking back at Michael from behind their respective sunglasses. Fi sighs dramatically. "It's not that we won't help, Michael. It's more like we..." She looks over at Sam for back up. "I want to say...can't?"

Sam laces his fingers behind his head and shrugs. "Sure, 'can't' works."

Michael throws both of them an unimpressed (and admittedly, envious) look from over his shoulder as he pauses his work on the Charger's carburetor. They're both set up in slightly rusted out poolside chairs with their feet soaking in a plastic kiddie pool that doesn't look a day younger than the early '70s. Probably some artifact from when he and Nate were younger.

He sets his 3/8" combo wrench on top of the engine. "Right, and you both can't," he probes, now leaning against the Charger, facing his two friends, as he gestures for them to continue, "because...?"

"What do you want from us, Michael?" Fi demands listlessly. He watches as she slides her bikini strap (she and Sam are both wearing bathing suits) off her right shoulder, so she can evenly apply more sunscreen. He swallows, possibly lingering longer than necessary (she's...well, it's...still a lot) before redirecting his attention anywhere else.

"Yeah," Sam agrees, snagging the tube of sunscreen out of Fi's hands, despite her protests. "You're the one that called for a debrief on the hottest day of the whole damn calendar year."

Michael pointedly ignores the rivulets of sweat soaking into his beater and, worse, the waistband of his jeans. "It's not the hottest—"

Sam cuts him off. "Historically high temperatures, Mike. I overheard your mom talking about it."

"Overheard me talking about what?"

Michael looks up, while Sam and Fi turn—almost in unison—as Madeline exits through the back door, a tray of iced tea in her hands. When neither Sam nor Fi rushes to help her (at least they're consistent, Michael thinks to himself bitterly), he walks over and helps her place the glasses on the small fold out table set up between the other two.

"Thanks, Maddie." Sam noticeably has no issue exerting himself to pick up his drink. Before he can take a single sip, however, Madeline snatches it out of his hands and replaces it with a beer. It may just be the widest Michael has ever seen Sam smile. "We were just saying how insanely hot it is today—"

"—and how only a certified sociopath would expect his dearest and most loyal friends to perform manual labor in this kind of weather," Fi finishes for him. She flashes a seemingly innocent smile at Michael from over the rim of her own glass. He responds in kind with something between a frown and a grimace.

Meanwhile, Madeline takes in his disheveled appearance. "And what happened to you?" she demands, handing him the iced tea that had previously been Sam's. He takes it, grateful. "You're soaked!"

"Yeah, I know, Ma," he says calmly, trying to restrain himself. "I've been out here fixing the Charger, but it would go a lot faster if I had some help..."

She follows his accusatory gaze back to Sam and Fiona and gasps. "Well, don't look at them, Michael!" she blanches as if he were asking them to help him bury a body, which...would not be an unreasonable scenario in his line of work. "It's hot outside!"

Michael stares up at the sky as if willing God to grant him the patience he is so quickly losing.

—

Virgil and...his mom.

—

Virgil and...his mother.

—

His own mom and...Virgil.

—

He's gonna kill him.

—

...Right after he drains a quart of bleach.

—

"He's here."

Maricruz doesn't bother looking up from her register. Their manager gave them a strict deadline for completing their cash counts today. "Who's here?

"The guy I was telling you about, the one who's in here all the time?"

Suddenly, Maricruz remembers. "Oh, yeah! The dude with all the yogurt, right?"

Her co-worker, Olivia, nods, cracking her gum in the process. "He only ever buys weird stuff, like screws and duct tape, never food—well, except for the yogurt. And, occasionally, beer." She pauses, then: "I think he might be a serial killer."

Maricruz finally looks up and watches as the man examines a box of 45-watt lightbulbs. She frowns, then turns to Olivia. "This guy?" she wants to know. "The one who dresses like some rich kid's hot, investment banker dad, who sometimes attends a lot of backyard barbecues?”

"Yes."

They pause in their conversation as Olivia rings up an elderly woman purchasing a bag of spinach and last week's People magazine. She waves goodbye to her and then once she leaves through the store's front doors, she zeroes in on her friend. "Hold up—are you saying hot people can't be serial killers?"

Maricruz rolls her eyes. "No. Duh, of course not. We both watched the same Ted Bundy documentary.

"True. Wait...are we saying Ted Bundy was hot?"

"I am not having this conversation with you."

Maricruz rings up her own customer (single mom with two toddlers, tons of sugary cereals) before looking back at Olivia. "There's no way this guy's a killer. Didn't you say he sometimes shows up with his supermodel wife?"

"Well, yeah," Olivia admits, "but, hello, ever heard of Scott and Laci Peterson?" She blows a bubble with her gum than pops it with an audible crack. "Also, for the record, I've never actually seen hot-might-be-a-serial-killer dude with a ring, so I think the supermodel's just his girlfriend.

Maricruz watches him grab a different pack of lightbulbs off the top shelf for an elderly woman behind him and sighs wistfully. "It totally figures he has a girlfriend." She stares a little longer. "I mean, serial killer or not, look at his arms."

Suddenly, Olivia clears her throat super loudly, snapping her out of her reverie. "Oh, my God, Maricruz, shutupshutup. He's coming to my lane!"

She looks over, and sure enough, the guy walks over to Olivia's lane and empties the contents of his basket onto the belt: a pack of lightbulbs, zip ties, rope, and two packs of blueberry yogurt. Olivia shoots Maricruz a look over his shoulder that seems to say, See? I told you so!

"Hi," he says with a bright, exaggerated smile, oblivious to their non-verbal conversation. It takes a moment for Olivia to recover while he digs in his pocket for his wallet and to respond back like a normal, human person.

"Welcome to Milam's Market," she says, totally using her Customer Service Voice as she rings up his items. "Did you find everything you need today?"

"Hmm?" He looks up from his phone, and the frown he was momentarily wearing transforms easily back to the smile from earlier. He snaps the phone shut and looks back up at her, somewhat sheepish. "Oh, uh, yeah. Even got a great deal on yogurt, so..."

Olivia gives him his total, and before he grabs his bags, he thanks both of them and tells them to have a great day.

As they watch him leave, Maricruz turns to Olivia. "Are we sure the supermodel is his girlfriend and not just his, like, insanely hot sister?" she asks desperately as she cranes her head to follow his exit beyond the store's double sliding doors.

Olivia nods sadly. "Yeah."

—

She tells him it's not good enough, but he doesn't know what else to say. He's never been good at this. He even has the scars from Dublin and Germany to prove it.

He feels slightly self-conscious, standing there shirtless, reminding her that they were profoundly unhappy together, nearly a decade ago. Ten years is a long time, and he's not exactly getting any younger—neither is his physique, frankly. He hasn't let himself go, by any means, but there's definitely a softness to his lower stomach that wasn't there the last time they were, uh...they last time they were...together. Fi doesn't mention it, or even really seem to mind much, however, when her foot connects with it just a few moments later.

He knows he's in trouble when his first punch accidentally lands, and she looks up at him afterward with that familiar fire in her eyes, the one that's equal parts terrifying and enticing.

He knows he's a goner when that same peculiar mix sends a jolt way down past his (grudgingly soft) gut while she deftly traces her lips along the lines of his palm.

And he definitely knows he's in way over his head when she lets him pin her to the mattress—when their eyes lock, and he anchors her face in his hand, while her hips cant slightly to meet his own. Admittedly, his self-control grounds to dust long before then, but it's only when his lips capture hers that he finally does the one thing he has wanted to do since the CIA dumped him in that trashy hotel with her all those months ago—

He finally gives in.

[segadores-y-soldados]

The Immortal Soldier?

Or “Is Jack Morrison semi-‘Reaperized’?”

Disclaimer: I don’t fully believe this idea myself.  However, I’m writing it down because it’s haunting me (ba-dum-tssh), and because I think it’s worth putting out in the open.  A lot of it relies on other hypothesis - which may or may not be true - and thinly-connected context clues, so again, I don’t know if this idea even really has solid ground to stand on? But anyways. TL, DR: post-fall Jack Morrison is basically “Retribution era” Gabriel Reyes, possibly with wraithy powers and all.  However, he may not realize he has those powers, or he may be missing a “step” in that “unlocks” them (e.g. Moira’s involvement).  Different types of circumstantial evidence can be interpreted as pointing towards Jack being very “hard to kill.”

This idea relies on the concepts I put forth in the first half of “Long Reasons Not to Trust Moira in Retribution.”  A quick recap:

1. Hypothesis/semi-confirmed?: Gabriel Reyes gained some sort of “Reaper” powers and his “Reaper” medical condition from SEP.

The basis for this is drawn from a few things.  The first - his “Soldier ID: 24″ folder is found in Moira’s present-day Genetics lab in Oasis.  The second - no one in “Retribution” (aka McCree, Genji, and Moira) are surprised by Gabriel’s “in game” powers (Wraith, Shadow Step, Death Blossom), and the trailer for the event shows Gabriel using Death Blossom freely.

The third - Reaper’s “Soldier: 24″ skin has no change in abilities (i.e. none of the effects or voicelines are altered (see things like Witch Mercy, Cultist Zen, Dragon Sym, etc)) and appears to represent Gabriel during his “experimental state” in SEP.

The fourth - the wording on Reaper’s hero profile is “intentional,” specifically the parts about Reaper being around for “decades.”

(More under the cut)

However, as I argued in “Long Reasons,” this did not necessarily mean that Gabriel was “healthy” or even immortal.

2. Hypothesis: though Gabriel Reyes had some level of “Reaper” powers/condition from SEP, he was not completely immune to being hurt or getting scars.  However, Gabriel might not have been aging correctly either.

This is taken from the idea that Gabriel’s appearance has small changes over the course of thirty years but that it does not change nearly as intensely as his similiarly-aged friends.

Gabriel does accumulate scars, and possibly some wrinkles.  However, unlike Ana, who is only two years older than him and gains wrinkles and grey-to-white hair, Gabriel appears to age relatively less significantly.

This is semi-confirmed by an interaction in “Retribution” between Gabriel and McCree:

McCree: Did you even consider what was gonna happen before you pulled the trigger?

Reyes: I made a decision - I’ll deal with the consequences.

McCree: What, like gettin’ the four of us killed?

Reyes: That’s not going to happen.

McCree believes that Gabriel can die during the events of “Retribution.”  And Gabriel probably can die.

“Hard to kill” =/= “immortal”

Gabriel’s pre-fall “Reaper powers/condition” make him “hard to kill”, but he can still be wounded, still accumulate scars, and still probably die.

This appears to be in direct contrast with:

3. Hypothesis: Post-Fall “Reaper” has become effectively immortal.

Reaper can still feel pain.  We know this.  He appears to even struggle with healing injuries sometimes.

(Personally, I think he’s faking this scene in “Infiltration,” because he wants to create a opportunity for Sombra to blackmail Katya.  But for the sake of discussion, let’s say he’s possibly genuinely in pain here.)

However, Reaper is able to take the full force of the Tesla Cannon without dying.  He 1v1s a new Volskaya mech in “Infiltration” without serious side effects.

In “Old Soldiers,” the sleep dart doesn’t affect Reaper at all, and while the sleep dart isn’t lethal, it does indicate - along with the events of “Recall” and “Infiltration” - that “Reaper” might now be much more immune to damage than he was pre-Fall.

One of Reaper’s respawn lines in the game says:

This is my curse...

Which seems to imply that his curse is being unable to die.

This goes along with the idea that Reaper in the present-day is working with Moira for a “cure” for his condition.

And that this may be the basis for their current working relatioship - Moira gets to continue her research on Gabriel, and Gabriel “eventually” gets a cure from it.

This is related to:

4. Hypothesis/semi-confirmed: before the fall, Gabriel recruited Moira specifically to help him try to solve his “pre-fall Reaper condition” before it got “worse” (and uh, we know that didn’t happen).

“She was recruited by Gabriel Reyes to be a member of Blackwatch.  And uh, during that time she had relationships with the Blackwatch crew - McCree, Genji - they all have their own sort of likes and dislikes for each other.  Reyes wanted someone could help advise him on, uh, some matters of genetics that he was, uh, interested in, shall we say.” - Michael Chu, 3:47 (https://youtu.be/HsJU3PEk9JY?t=227)

Moira is already conducting research on Gabriel at the time of “Retribution.”  This is indicated by her Biotic Grasp and Fade - which were “created” by Moira when she repurposed parts of Gabriel’s biodata for her own artificial means.  Moira has a couple of interactions in “Retribution” which imply that she thinks certain “changes” may be occurring in Gabriel (though he himself does not reveal if these “changes” are actually happening, or if he is aware of them happening at the time).

However, what appears to be implied by the timeline of Overwatch is that Gabriel’s medical transformation into “post-fall Reaper” (not his actual persona or motivations, but his physical state of being) needed more than just Moira’s experiments to “unlock”:

It needed something much bigger to induce the full “Reaper” potential in him.

Reaper, upon respawning:  That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

Different types of stressors and trauma may activate or deactivate the phenotypical expression of genes - this occurs in real life, and, since Blizzard is using stuff like “enhancements”, “nanobiology”, and “hard light technology” as “firm science fiction” elements to explain more “magical” plot devices (e.g. immortality, resurrection, teleporters, talking gorillas, etc), it’s possible that they’re using this concept (albeit very loosely) to explain Gabriel’s final medical transformation into “Reaper”.

This aligns with Reaper’s own explanation for what happened to him (although I’m leaning more and more towards this moment as being a “mixed truth” than a genuine explanation from him):

Setting aside the debate on if Reaper actually blames Soldier: 76 or not, he tells Ana that his “suffering” transformed him into “this thing”.  We know that Gabriel is “the same” from “Retribution” to “Uprising,” leaving only one (known) major event that he could be referencing here: the explosion of the Swiss Base, which he and Jack were caught in.

We don’t know the “exact ratio” of “SEP experimenting” to “Moira experimenting” to “explosion” that creates the “perfect mixture” to result in post-fall Reaper, so yes, one of these things could be more “impactful” on his condition than the others.  But the explosion having a significant impact on transforming him from “hard to kill” to “effectively immortal” aligns with a lot of the pieces that we already know or have clues about.

Now -

The reason I bring this all up -

Is because Jack Morrison has become very similar to pre-fall Gabriel Reyes in personality.

Soldier: 76: I don’t play by the rules anymore.

Soldier: 76:  You ain't seen me angry.

Soldier: 76:  I didn't start this war... But I'm damn well gonna finish it.

Also stuff like: 

Moira: You did what needed to be done, Gabriel.  Don’t apologize. Gabriel: I never have, and I don’t intend to start now.  Someone has to be the one to get things done.

Soldier: 76:  I'm just doing my job. Soldier: 76:  Save the medals, I've had my fill. Soldier: 76, killing an enemy Reaper:  Someone had to do it.

---

McCree: Is this what we’ve become, Gabriel? Gabriel: Blackwatch has always had one purpose: to do the real work of keeping the world safe.  I thought you had the stomach for it.  Looks like I was wrong.

Soldier: 76: Think you can do my job, do you... Winston: Someone has to.

Winston: Someone's going to put a stop to your illegal activities. Soldier: 76: You're one to talk! You and your friends are breaking the law, same as me.

Soldier: 76, killing an enemy Winston: Your hesitation is your weakness.

But Soldier: 76 also has a number of...interesting lines.

Lines that I initially thought were just “flavor text” - you know, stuff that gives us an indication of his personality, his motivations, his ideas, etc.

But can also be interpreted...differently.

Ana: Seems like neither of us like being dead very much. Soldier: 76: Old soldiers are hard to kill.

Soldier: 76: Old soldiers never die... And they don't fade away... 

Soldier: 76: Aren't you supposed to be dead? Reaper: Didn't take.

Soldier: 76: One of these days someone is gonna to put an end to you. Reaper: I invite them to try.

(The last one is interesting because Reaper appears to imply that “trying to end him” is effectively impossible.)

Because, I mean...read another way -

It sounds a lot like Soldier: 76 is talking about himself, either directly, as in the interaction with Ana, or more indirectly, as in the interactions with Reaper.

Again.  I get it.  Like I said, I don’t fully believe this myself.

But let me try and walk through some of the steps here:

1. Pre-explosion Jack Morrison ages “normally.”

Or at least, he ages about the same as Reinhardt, Ana, and Torbjörn.

“Golden Era” Jack Morrison

“Retribution” Jack

“Uprising” Jack

His hair is fading from blonde to white, he’s accumulating wrinkles, etc.  He is, however, missing two major “features” on his face that define him as “post-Fall Soldier: 76″:

His scars.

However -

Gabriel’s “pre-fall Reaper” condition never prevented him from gaining scars.

And though it is “flavor text”, Soldier: 76 has a voiceline for his Daredevil and Stunt Rider skins that says:

Bones heal, pain is temporary; scars look good.

Which is a modified version of a quote from Evel Knievel.

2. Post-explosion Jack might not be aging correctly.

Ana: For a man of your years, you're looking pretty good, Jack. Soldier: 76: Well, all that stuff they pumped into me has to be good for something.

Prior to “Retribution,” I took this interaction to be - well - just a cute little discussion between Ana and Soldier: 76, but when it was revealed that Jack was the youngest member of the original Strike Team, this interaction...made me pause.

Why would Ana say that to someone who is likely 5-10 years younger than her?

At the time of Recall, Jack Morrison could be between the ages of 48 to 55-56-ish.  We know he is younger than Gabriel when he enlists in the U.S. military and joins SEP, which automatically makes him younger than Ana and Reinhardt.  He is likely younger than Torbjörn (as Torb is only one year younger than Gabriel), which makes him the youngest member of the original team.

And look, I love Jack and think he’s a great character and attractive for having gone through a lifetime of war and fighting.

But let’s not kid ourselves.

If this man is 48, that’s a hard 48.

If he’s in his early-to-mid-50′s, sure, that might be more...understandable.  But even then, you have characters like Reinhardt (who Ana also compliments), Mercy, Moira, Doomfist, Hanzo - all of whom are aging “gracefully” (if you want to call it that) for being in their late 30′s to late 40′s (or Reinhardt in his 60′s).

I mean, if Jack is 48, that means he’s the same age as her:

And Moira has very few of the changes Jack has.

(Please, I’m not looking for a discussion on character designs here.  If you want that conversation, there’s plenty of other posts or people to discuss with.) “But Jack lived a stressful life!  And he survived an explosion!  Of course he’s aged more heavily - that takes a toll.”

Which is -

Different types of stressors and trauma may activate or deactivate the phenotypical expression of genes

Precisely my point.

I’ve seen a lot of people make the hypothesis that Jack Morrison may have had a different type of supersoldier “enhancement” injection serum than Gabriel Reyes.  And that’s logically a very good argument - after all, Jack never shows signs of being “wraithy”.  He doesn’t teleport, he gets hurt, he doesn’t have any sort of “lifedrain” ability, etc.

But we also don’t know if any of that - the serum, the “non-wraithy” stuff - is true or not.

Because when Ana remarks about his age and appearance, Jack credits the injections for “being good” for that.

And when Ana herself comments that Jack is “so hardheaded that [he] wouldn’t know how to die” and that Jack is “lucky to be alive”, Jack himself comments with:

(Ostensibly, he’s quoting Gabriel here, who was once Jack’s “old boss”)

Again, it appears that Jack is merely copying Gabriel’s pre-fall personality, or “evolving” into being a renegade and rogue-like character, just like Gabriel was during “Retribution.”

But it is intriguing that Jack credits the SEP injections with his...current “hard-to-kill-ness” and his seemingly “good” appearance.

3. Jack survives a lot of stuff.

Canonically, Jack survives: 1) the Swiss Base explosion, 2) fighting the Helix guards at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, 3) fighting Los Muertos members in “Hero,” 4) a grenade thrown by a Los Muertos member in “Hero”, 5) a literal shotgun blast to his lower back (?), and then 6) a fistfight with Reaper.

Yes, he gets hurt.

But “hard to kill” =/= “immortal”.

Soldier: 76: Old soldiers are hard to kill.

“Ana heals him in ‘Old Soldiers,’ though!”

You’re right, she absolutely does.  And based on gameplay, Soldier heals himself by his Biotic Fields.

But we also see him literally “walk off” a grenade blast in “Hero.”  And he appears to survive the Swiss Base explosion with only scars. 

And while he never appears to use “wraithy” powers like pre-fall Gabriel, it might be that Jack isn’t fully aware of what’s happening to him.

Gabriel has had “decades” to explore his “Reaper condition.”  He may have even had help “training” his abilities in SEP.  Jack, on the other hand, probably went through the program thinking he was just “another supersoldier” and not a...ghost soldier...fighter...warrior person like Gabriel (or whatever SEP wanted to describe them as - “ravagers”, maybe?).

After all, Jack’s own description of SEP is very brief in “Uprising.”  Initially, he seems to indicate that the program “tried everything” in a desperate bid to end the war - including likely conducting experiments like the kind that produced pre-fall “Reaper” - but that other things (“politics, mismanagement, egos”) seemed to be the downfall of SEP and other U.S. military endeavours, thus pushing Gabriel and Jack to agree to join Overwatch together.

And in “Retribution”, we know that Gabriel appears to think that Jack can die.

Hence Gabriel’s whole motivation for trying to “get a jump start” on Talon by getting intel from Antonio.

Gabriel believed that an explosion could severely hurt Jack -

Or do worse to him.

And yet -

Not only does that not actually happen, Jack appears...almost... stronger than before, emerging “from the ashes” six years later as “Soldier: 76″, equipped with the Tactical Visor and a new, updated version of the Heavy Pulse Rifle.

4. In “another life,” Jack is “immortal.”

“Junkenstein’s Revenge” occupies a very...odd space in the Overwatch universe.  It is, arguably, the only “canon AU” made by the developers themselves.  By that I mean - not only is the “story itself” canon to the world of Overwatch, as a story that Reinhardt is literally telling his friends during one Halloween:

But the events that occur within the story have obvious and clear parallels to the “canon world of Overwatch.”

Each of the main characters - both the “heroes” and the “villains” in both years - correspond to “real characters” in Overwatch.  Moreover, all the “roles” that they play in the story have “canon costumes”/skins (with only Reinhardt and Genji currently missing theirs).

For example:

Mercy, who is dressed as a witch at the Halloween party, is the witch in the story:

Torbjörn is a Viking, Ana is a “pirate alchemist,” McCree is a vampire/demon hunter (Van Helsing, to be exact), Junkrat is the scientist, Roadhog is the monster, etc etc.

The story gets expanded in Year 2, where Widowmaker, Zenyatta, Genji, and Torbjörn all become playable, and it “canonizes” the Huntress and Cultist skins for Widowmaker and Zenyatta as being their “in-story roles”.  Genji, who we don’t see up-close, will likely get a “demon wanderer” skin to match Hanzo’s in a future event.

But there is a character who doesn’t match his “canon costume” with his “Junkenstein role”:

And before people are like, “That’s just his Daredevil skin!” - I know.  I’m aware of that.

However, I also know that they seriously considered making “Old Jack in his Daredevil outfit” a real thing for him:

Of those seven pieces of concept art (I’m counting both Reins as one), five of those eventually became fully-fledged skins.  Reinhardt’s will likely show up in a future event.

However, they got to the point where they actually made a mock-up of “Old Jack in his Daredevil costume.”

And yet.

They chose this.

Yes, I do believe the Immortal skin is an homage to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.  After all, “Junkenstein’s Revenge” as a whole references a number of horror stories or Halloween ideas - everything from the Headless Horseman to Van Helsing to “Frankenstein” itself.

But if the Soldier skin is a reference to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, why call it “Immortal?”  Why not call it “Zombie” or “Ghoul” or something?

As I said earlier, “Junkenstein’s Revenge” has a lot of parallels to the canon world of Overwatch, and the story around each of the “roles” has connections to their “canon versions”.

For example:

Ana: What reason brings you to travel so far from home? Hanzo: I was banished from my home for taking my brother's life. I can never return.

Ana: I once met a man who could summon a dragon as you do. Hanzo: Impossible. Only my clan possesses the skill. My brother could, but he is dead.

McCree: What's home like for you, Archer? Hanzo: A village, high atop a hill. There are cherry blossoms in the spring. I miss it dearly.

Soldier: 76: A soldier, an alchemist, an archer and an oddity. A motley group we have assembled here. Ana: Just as it has always been. You attract strange companions. 

Hanzo: I sense that you and the Soldier have history together. Ana: Indeed. And much of it unhappy.  Or Ana: This is not our first battle together. And not the last. Unless he does something foolish.

Interestingly, many characters often break the fourth wall (or at least attempt to hit it):

Reinhardt, if some of the heroes start dying:  The heroes' defense was not enough, as one of their numbers fell. If only they had a shield to stand behind. Reinhardt: Oh, how the heroes lamented their need for a shield, realizing too late they had taken for granted its protection.

McCree: You're not bad with a bow, but don't you think it's a little old fashioned? Hanzo: Perhaps there is still a future for anachronisms.

McCree: You seem awful familiar. You sure we haven't met before? Soldier: Maybe in another life.

While all the characters have lines and interactions pointing to their “canon versions”, Soldier in particular has many - almost all of his interactions refer to his “canon story” or refer to his “canon relationships.”

Soldier: It's time to finish this fight, old friend. Ana: Let us hope we have the strength to see it through

Ana: If we survive the night, this should be our last battle. Soldier: No, I cannot rest until we have justice! (for what...or for whom?)

Hanzo: What sort of monster do you think the Reaper is? Soldier: The worst kind there is - a wicked man. McCree: So, where are you from? Soldier: I don't stay in one place for too long, came from a town called Bloomington, Indiana

Soldier: In my younger days I'd have hardly broken a sweat, but those days are over.

Related to that is the subplot that the “Junkenstein version” of the “Reaper” knew Soldier and the Alchemist at one point in time:

Once a man, the Reaper retained no trace of his former self.

Rumor said that the Reaper had betrayed his former comrades, and was thusly cursed. (eliminated by Ana) The Alchemist slew the Reaper, feeling a moment of sadness for the man she had once known. (eliminated by Soldier: 76) The Soldier struck down the Reaper, and hoped that it would be for the last time.

However, Soldier expresses an...interesting sentiment when he kills Reaper in “Junkenstein’s Revenge”:

Soldier, eliminates Reaper: At last, the Reaper's curse is lifted.

From both “the canon story of Overwatch” and “Junkenstein’s Revenge,” we see that Soldier: 76 in “both modes” considers it his duty to both fight the Reaper and free him from his “curse.”  In “both modes,” this means killing him.

I’ve seen a lot of the fan idea that “the Immortal Soldier” is a human thrall or some sort of vampire (based predominantly on Reaper’s second Halloween skin, “Dracula”).  While it isn’t a bad idea (and I enjoy it, personally), that’s not actually “canon” to the story of Junkenstein’s Revenge.

In fact, Soldier’s “story” in Junkenstein’s Revenge is almost identical to his “canon story”:

McCree: You don't seem like someone who'd put his faith in alchemy. Soldier: You have to believe in something. May as well be the thing that keeps you alive. McCree: You ask me, you pump something full of these chemicals, electricity and whatnot, that's not a man - that's a monster. Soldier: Maybe so, or maybe they're not as different as you'd think.

In the “Junkenstein’s Revenge universe”, the Immortal Soldier is alive because he himself has been through some sort of alchemical experiment.  McCree’s lines about “[pumping] something full of these chemicals, electricity, and whatnot” is very similiar to not only this:

Ana: For a man of your years, you're looking pretty good, Jack. Soldier: 76: Well, all that stuff they pumped into me has to be good for something.

But also incredibly similiar to this:

“That’s not a man - that’s a monster.”

And Soldier’s remark?

“Maybe so, or maybe they’re not as different as you’d think.”

In fact, now that Moira is part of the game, I’m super interested in seeing how they evolve the Halloween event for the third year, or if we’ll get some sort of new “canon AU-style” story that incorporates her and Brigitte into the event.  Moira very much fulfills the “canon role” of the “Witch” in the world of Overwatch, moreso than Mercy does, and the fact that Moira canonically hold the power of “Reaper’s cure” over Reaper does imply that certain aspects of the Reaper subplot in “Junkenstein’s Revenge” have parallels to the canon story.  It will be exciting to see how Moira is integrated into future Halloween events.

I’m also very interested to see how characters like the Soldier and Alchemist “evolve” in their roles in relation to Moira.

But that’s for the future.

For now, Soldier in “Junkenstein’s Revenge” is...semi-immortal.  Much like the other heroes - demons, vampires, cultist...monk...robots... - the Immortal Soldier can still die, and he can still get hurt.  But the implication that he doesn’t age correctly, or won’t “die of natural causes” is...telling.

Like I said, I’m not sure how much I actually believe the idea as a whole.  But I do think there are odd bits and pieces that point to it being plausible, or something that could become a plot-point later in Overwatch’s story.  Jack being “hard to kill” has worked out as “convenient plot armor” when the story calls for him to get injured or fight someone, but it could evolve into something more...complex.  Again, the fact that Moira is seemingly in the process of making a “cure” for Gabriel’s “post-fall Reaper condition” could have a lot of impacts on Gabriel’s decision-making, his motivations, and those who are affected by them -

Jack, in particular.

Jack is the only other known character who has gone through the same “Soldier Enhancement Program” as Gabriel.  He’s one of the main characters guiding Gabriel’s motivations at the time of “Retribution.”  He’s the only other known character to have survived the same “Swiss Base explosion” as Gabriel, who became the fully-fledged “Reaper” (e.g. effectively immortal) after that.  The same event left Jack with what appears to be only scars, but otherwise, he continues to fight very well.  Post-fall Jack has a number of personality and motivational comparisons to “Retribution-era” Gabriel, including a desire for enacting “retribution” on those who wronged Overwatch and a seemingly “hard-to-kill” physiology.  And in a “canon AU” story, Jack’s role is that of an “immortal soldier,” who may have some...similarities with the “monsters” in the story that he isn’t totally sharing with his comrades.

We know Jack’s canon goal is to find the conspiracy that brought down Overwatch, and implement retributive justice against them.

But is that his only goal?

We will have to see.