#gotta strike a balance y'know

[pand1on]

What's your ideal Shadow characterization wise?

warning I am extremely bad at putting my thoughts into words and also this is a very normal and average take but I will try.

my ideal shadow characterization is a balance between the whole edgy rudeboy thing he has going now and the emotional sadboy of archie.

shadow doesn't feel like shadow if he's not kinda rude and mean on accident (or on purpose). which I think can be the issue in a lot of fan characterizations? when he's just kind of nice and/or sad and always makes appealing decisions it's like. who is that. he's gotta be blunt and making bad decisions for the sake of whatever goal he has in mind to feel like himself.

then the opposite side of it is that I personally find him more appealing when he has a softer side and his own little interests. pre-sgw sonic universe goes a bit overboard with it but I like how he tries to help people even though his communication skills aren't great and he's not great at convincing people of. anything really. the little bit about his bike in SU uhh...21 or 22 was adorable. he has a hobby!! the reason I don't completely love his portrayal there is just that he's a bit too soft and openly emotional, but I still like him a lot.

so. yeah. a little edgy guy who takes things too seriously and is mean on accident and cares about his friends and tries to do what he thinks he should be doing even if he makes really bad decisions along the way.

[normal-sea-urchin]

Casey Jones Fucking Dies: Chapter 8

AND IT IS DONE! chapter eight that is. uh, @achilles-invulnerable-heel @veritas-dolos @clanofjones @theosb0rnway @builtlikeastickofcelery @samuel-yippee @less-depresso-more-espresso ok i think that covers all the tags. uhhhh, but anyways this chapter may have a slightly different vibe as it was written from casey's pov. anyways here ya go pookies, enjoy!

Yes. Yesss.

That stupid turtle actually fell for it. Casey couldn't believe Raph thought he would actually forgive him. Yet here he was, in the turtle's body, glaring down Raph's spirit, which was now trapped in the mirror. 

"Sorry, but this body's taken." he hissed, giving the turtle's ghost a toothy grin. The look of fear in his face was all too good. "Anyways, I have places to be. Later, Raph." Casey taunted, putting emphasis on the mutant's name.

Casey took a step towards the door, only to stumble and put his hand on the counter for balance. Huh. It had uh, been a while since Casey had needed to actually walk around. not to mention that he was now a turtle. Kind of. A mutant turtle. Close enough. Either way, being in this body might take a while to completely get used to. 

But casey didn't exactly have tons of time. Possession wasn't easy, and he didn't exactly have the practice. So whether or not Casey knew how to even walk in this body, he needed to. Just gotta get to my house, he thought to himself. 

He took a step, and another, and placed his hand on the door knob. He turned to face Raph's ghost in the mirror one last time. He gave one last, toothless grin; he blinked his eyes to wash out the ghostly green glow, now replacing it with the turtle's striking green eyes. He blew a taunting kiss towards the horrified face in the mirror before swinging the door open and waltzing out of the bathroom. 

Casey had been watching Raph and how he acted around his brothers and father since he became a ghost; meaning it wasn't very hard to imitate how he acted, at least until he got out of the lair. Casey tried to walk over to the turnstiles (which he had learned was the entrance and also the exit) but was stopped by one of the turtles.

"Yo Raph, where are you going dude?" Dammit. Casey slowly turned a bit to see which turtle was talking to him. It was the orange one, with the blue eyes. What was his name again? Marco? No no no. Uhh, Miguel? Mikey? Mikey! It was Mikey. 

"Uh, just going on patrol, I'll be back later." he lied. Ugh, he sounded like Raph. He sounded like the guy who killed him. It felt weird. To be honest the entire 'being in the body of a five foot tall mutant turtle' thing was weird. Y'know what, that would explain why he sounded like him.

"Hmm, okay dude." Casey turned back around and sped-walked over to the turnstiles as inconspicuously as he could. Casey turned the corner out of the lair and as soon as he was sure he was out of earshot, he started booking it. 

He didn't really have a reason why. I mean, he wanted to see his sister and his room, but he didn't really have any reason to rush. but it felt nice. It felt good to run. It felt great to do anything. Even though the smell of the New York sewers was the worst thing imaginable, Casey was glad he could smell at all. 

After a while, Casey reached a sewer plate. He couldn't wait to see his room again. He rushed up the sewer ladder and shoved the sewer plate up and out of the way. Here he was. Back on the surface. Casey took a deep breath in. 

The sound of car horns and people yelling and even just people's shoes clicking against the pavement brought such a comfort to Casey. It felt amazing. God, he had missed this. It took Casey a moment to remember what exactly he came up here for. Right, his room. Gotta get to his apartment. 

"AAAAAH! MONSTER!" a feminine voice from behind Casey yelled. He whipped around to sees some blonde chick yelling and pointing at him. Shit. He totally forgot he was in Raph's body.

Casey quickly scaled the nearest fire escape. About halfway up, he noticed that the woman had ran away; so he continued his climb, peaking into the windows of the apartment complex as he did. As much as Casey hates the whole normal life thing, he kinda missed the mundanity of life. 

Y'know, waking up in an unmade bed, cooking breakfast for himself and his sister, riding his bike to school after dropping his little sister off, going to the convenience store after school for a snack, that kinda thing. And even the occasional hockey game or practice, or maybe his little sister needed help with her homework. Casey missed it. 

He reached the roof of the building and turned around, looking for a store or restaurant that he would recognize. He knew New York like the back of his hand; if he could just see how close the park or something was, he could easily get home. Aha! The old theater that Casey went to like, all the time. That meant he was about seven blocks away from his apartment.

He turned to face the direction his apartment building was in and mentally charted out a route of buildings to hop across. Shouldn't take too long. Casey walked over to the edge of the building, looking at the distance between this one and the next. He took a few steps back before sprinting towards and leaping towards the next building.

Casey landed with a tumble near the middle of the building. He did not expect to jump that great a distance, which left him a little shocked. But he shook it off with ease, of course. He really needed to get used to the whole mutant turtle thing if he was going to posses Raph more often, which he planned on doing. 

Either way, he began to fade into a cycle of leaping from building to building for a few blocks until his apartment complex was in sight. Casey stopped for a moment, taking a moment to catch his breath. God he missed the burning in his lungs when he ran. He missed the wind blowing through his hair, which was still something he missed considering Raph was bald... 

Anyways, he continued towards to his apartment. Upon reaching the top of it, Casey started rushing down the fire escape to his room. He could barely contain his excitement. He threw the window open and leaped into the room, feeling the carpet underneath the turtle's feet (which felt like, really big to Casey). 

Casey waltzed over to his bed before letting himself fall face first into his pillow. He inhaled deeply before rolling over onto the turtle's shell. Man, he missed his room. His eyes shot over to his desk, where his face paint was.

Hmm.

Face paint. Casey had an idea. He walked over to the desk and sat in the old, torn chair  in front of it. He tried his best to get comfortable, although Raph's shell made it a bit hard. After deciding that this was as comfortable as he could get in this body, he turned his attention to the desk.

...

His homework was in the exact same place he left it. He had blown off finishing it in favor for vigilante-ing...

Whatever. Casey pushed it aside. Not like Mrs. Thomson's math class mattered anymore. Casey reached for his black and white face paint, hoping to push those thoughts away. He turned the small mirror on his desk towards him, turning it downwards to fit his now much shorter height.

"This is for FUCKING killing me freak face!" Casey remarked, pointing at the turtle's face in the mirror. 

"GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BODY!" Raph screamed back from his mirror prison; making Casey flinch back. He was not expecting a response. 

"Mmm, no. You could some time for reflection. Get it?" Casey mocked. Raph face morphed into a scowl before fading away, leaving Casey alone. Now then, the face paint.

Casey tugged the red mask off the turtle's head. He reached for a brush before dipping it into the white face paint. He smudged the paint all over the turtle's ugly mug. After two coats, the turtle's green skin was no longer visible. Casey grabbed a second, smaller brush for the black paint and went to town. 

It felt good. Defacing Raph. The man who killed him so ruthlessly. The man who had taken Casey from his sister, and from April, and from hockey, and from his life...

Whatever.

After a little while, Casey had finished. The black accents had taken only one layer, cause of how dark it was. And thus, it was done. The turtle had now donned totally metal skull face paint. Casey looked in the mirror, admiring his handiwork. Just one thing was missing. Casey reached into the left drawer of the desk and pulled out one of his spare bandanas. He tied it around his forehead and leaned back into the chair. Y'know the bandana really pulled the whole thing together. 

While staring at his new reflection, Casey thought back to his life before. Before his death. Before, when he had his own body, and didn't have to possess a mutant turtle. He regrets ever taking it for granted. Man, this was bumming him out. 

Casey's eyes began to wander around the room before landing on his hockey gear sticking out of his bag. Hmm. Casey walked over to the bag and crouched down beside it. He began to rummage through the contents, finding hockey pucks, spray paint bottles, and some other junk. Maybe he could take it with him, sneak it into the turtles's lair, so that he could throw up some graffiti or something next time he possessed Raph. He decided it best to at least take it with him, even if he didn't put it in the lair. He threw a few more things in: his face paint, some old clothes that just might fit over the turtle's body, that kinda stuff. As he was hunched over, he heard a voice erupt from behind him.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Casey whipped around to see his little sister, Angel, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Oh no. Ooooooh no. Angel couldn't see Casey. She couldn't see Casey looking like... this whole situation! He threw the bag onto his shoulder in a panic and quickly fled the scene. He ran up the fire escape, paying no attention to his sister's "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" 

He made it up to the roof before repeatedly sprinting and leaping over to a rooftop about a block down. He took a moment to breathe, turning and looking back towards his room; looking back towards his sister. All this time, he had missed her, so much. But now, after having seen her, he wishes he hadn't. The way she reacted, the way she screamed... Casey felt like a monster. 

And it was all Raph's fault.

                _______________________

The clinking of the spray paint cans in Casey's bag echoed through the abandoned subway tunnel. He was now on his way back from his apartment to the turtle's lair. The thoughts about how his sister reacted to seeing him still haunted his mind. 

Man, fuck all of this. Casey didn't care enough to hide the bag. He didn't care enough to try and wipe off the face paint he did. He didn't care enough to pay any mind to Raph's voice echoing in his mind, demanding his body back. 

As he made it closer to the lair, the sound of the other turtles became clearer. A grin began to crawl onto Casey's face the closer he got. This was gonna be good. 

He turned the corner to face the turtles and April with an unnerving grin on his face. The turtles all seemed to be watching some dumb cartoon show while April was on her computer. Casey dropped the bag to the ground, but still holding the strap in his hand. He stood, waiting for a response or even a reaction, still grinning.

The turtles were staring at who they thought was they're brother with looks of confusion. But April, April was glaring at Casey, her eyes wide, yet angry.

"Raph... Where did you get that bandana? And that bag?" she interrogated, dragging a finger up to point at Casey's bag. The grin on Casey's face cracked into an eerie smile.

"Oh, y'know. Stole it from this guy I killed." he enthusiastically replied. The room fell silent. Dead silent. 

"...What?" April muttered slowly. 

"Yeah!" Casey remarked, "I think you knew him, his name was Casey. Casey Jones." 

And with that, Raph fell to the floor. Unconscious, but now in control of his body.

[inventors-fair]

Valiant Efforts: Battle Runners-Up ~

Our runners-up this week are @grornt, @hypexion, and @real-aspen-hours!

@grornt — Tovolar's Moonlight Assault / Harvesttide Exultation

I think this card is balanced, well-designed, flavorful, resonant, and pretty...normal! That's a good thing when you're designing cards that are supposed to be good. I did want to swing for the fences with the winners this week—as much as I could without destroying the stadium. This really is a well-designed removal suite for green and feels like it's doing everything that you can do right in the color, though, so what's to complain about?

Maybe the fact that is DOES do so much stuff is reason for concern, but green has had its heyday of advantages, and this card probably isn't going to break any formats like its pre/mid-2020s ilk. Creatures, life, card draw, and buffs isn't too bad...is it? I'm kidding, this all fits in for both how much a battle can matter when you need it to be a bit of everything, AND how easily a battle can be flavored on a world we already know with a story we're familiar with. Tovolar makes the Harvesttide a little crazy, and what more can we ask for than a witchy, wolfy get-together. Personally, I'd ask for Tovolar's digits. His wolfy, wolfy digits.

@hypexion — Attack on Eiganjo

Once more, everything about this battle makes sense. You want to find the best ways to deal damage to get the advantages that you need. The more that you penetrate the defenses, the stronger you can get. You picked a line, and stuck with it, and I'm right there with you. Did multiple people come up with the concept for the assault supertype? I missed conversations in the workshop if so. Regardless, that name makes sense and I'm glad that folks went with it. The different directions are quite interesting as well!

I wish there was an easier way for this particular scenario to be made manifest. Can you ping the battle over and over until you have eight power on board? Perhaps! Is getting two 2/2 creatures worth it, too? If they have first strike, I'd say so. The rewards for battling could perhaps be more fleshed out, and/or there could be a reward for winning the battle, if such a thing is feasible, but that hardly matters. I get what this card does and what it wants the game state to look like. It's complicated once we get there and I'd love to see the decision-making process of someone having to deal with/against this in combat.

@real-aspen-hours — Loot the Storehouses!

Another assault! Gotta love it, don't you. This is actually quite similar to the Granary card, or at least it would seem so at first glance. And then the actual ability and implied flavor happens, and we're in a different world. Probably literally! The card advantage is different, which is fine, and it's more focused on that than it is a more general reward feeling. I think what I really like here is the utilization of the second main phase, or at least how this card wants you to think about it. The benefits of battle, if you will.

I think "You may play those cards this turn" would be better than the whole "until your next end step" clause, just because of clarity, but that doesn't matter too much. Ooh, or what if you could only play them on a turn that Loot the Storehouses was attacked? There are plenty of options and there's not one right answer. Considering that card advantage is pretty easy to understand, my curiosity wants me to ask where you imagined this card taking place, y'know? What world, which storehouses, etc. It could be anywhere and that's all fine, but as it stands, I do want to thank everyone who submitted a single-faced battle this contest for all the cool things that one can do with them. Super proud.

So, I'll post about this in the Discord, but I'm going to be away from my computer most of the day. Again. Life is a long series of doing thangs. Commentary will either be up late tonight, or sometime during the day tomorrow. I'll be working as hard as I can, though!

@abelzumi

[octoberscrye]

@mutatedangels asked:

“ when it’s good it’s great, when it’s great it’s a small calamity. ” // for corvus from... i'll surprise you!!

"Sweetheart, you can't be out here living your life in extremes like that," Corvus let out a sigh, absently fussing with his lighter and staring at the device like it had an answer.

After apparently deciding that it didn't, he glanced up again. There was a brief moment of pause. His dark green eyes softened and the firmness of his expression gave way to empathy. He silently put the lighter back into his pocket.

"Sometimes you have to live your life in shades of grey, y'know?" Not everyone is good or bad, not every situation has a right or wrong answer...

He frowned, reaching and shoving some stray hair away from his face, irritation written across his expression at the act.

"Getting caught up in good and bad leaves you so desperate to avoid the bad, you never see the good. So...embrace the inbetween. Don't get lost there, but just don't drive yourself being convinced that the extremes are a safe space. Even the extreme good is a bad place, if you stay there too long. You know, like how people can die from drinking too much water. No water is bad, too much water is also bad, you gotta strike a balance."

He shrugged and adjusted the neck of his hoodie to stop it from pulling at him.

"But hey, I'm just some washed up kid working for the fire department, the fuck do I know?"

[comicaurora]

(Now I would have used Tumblr's handy dandy reblog function on my last ask, but I felt too self conscious making a long post Even Longer over a single section, BUT!)

'If I put Falst in a notably hostile and unjust city and then just… left him alone, that risked turning the in-universe established fact of people being casually shitty to ferin into a tell-don't-show thing. The last thing I wanted was for it to seem like Falst was being oversensitive, that things weren't that bad or that he could've been hanging out in cities this whole time. ... It was very important that I not shy away from showing the gross, bad side of his experience, because doing so could risk producing the opposite effect.'

Y'know as (half of) a black person, this honestly never occurred to me, like I just Instantly grasped from the way others talked about Falst in his intro arc when he wasn't there "Oh. Oh I Know That." And so seeing him in active peril in the city as opposed to him playing cards with Alinua in the one spot he knew was primarily safest didn't register to me at all as a big difference in presentation because you're not allowed to just Forget that people can and will treat you worse than you are due on sight when you're in Falst's position. But the audience watching a story is allowed and very likely to forget or not register danger levels unless they are being actively shown those things at prudent intervals. Like the silent pressure constantly on Falst is something I Fully Get without having to be given examples, but also it's a silent omnipresent pressure on top of all his other issues that he refuses to bring out of himself, so in crafting a story around All Of That, you gotta shake the jar or else the glitter at the bottom will become such a non-thing that people might just kinda go 'I mean it's just a jar with something at the bottom, I don't see what the deal there is.'

Yeah, it's… a tough balance to strike. I'm not a fan of stories that aggressively fire off nonstop reminders of in-story prejudice (netflix's shadow and bone went so hard on the in-universe anti-"shu" racism I kept cringing away from the screen wondering how this world seemed to be composed 95% of people with nothing else going on in their lives except being racist), but on the flip side you get stories with, as I like to call it, Elf Racism, where some demographic of gorgeous superhumans like elves or angels or catgirls will be allegedly discriminated against or hated by some specific in-universe group and it will usually either be brought up (a) only once in a Very Special Episode where someone is taught quickly and cleanly that Racism Is Bad, (b) literally never, except maybe the token elf/angel/catgirl will be like "you think my ears/wings/kawaii kitty vibes are beautiful? but……… all my life I was told they were hideous", or (c) solely in the context of Radical Anarchist Rebels whose reasonable points about "racism is bad" are obscured by their startling habit of committing random atrocities for our heroes to morally oppose without addressing their actual moral thesis.

My biggest complaint with these executions is that they are wildly, wildly unrelatable. "My life is hard because I have adorable kitty ears, angel wings or superpowers" is the kind of thing that needs supporting evidence before an audience will buy it. "This world is prejudiced, by which I mean elves and dwarves hate each other - but not THIS elf and dwarf, they're besties, but all other elves and dwarves hate each other and in those cases it's just a fun quirk we will never attempt to address" produces a setting that can't decide if prejudice is a moral failing or a funny quirk. "There is prejudice in this world, by which I mean all the bad guys are racist and all the good guys are 100% enlightened and unproblematic" isn't much better, because it's being used as just another flavor of Good Vs Evil - plus the execution on the bad guys' part tends to be so cartoonishly over-the-top as to be completely implausible.

This is a problem, because if the "prejudice is bad" story is trying to communicate, for instance, the complex moral message "prejudice is bad," the prejudice enacted in the story probably shouldn't be so cartoonishly implausible that the audience has no chance of recognizing it within themselves or within anyone whose flavor of bias is anything less blatant than foaming-at-the-mouth-and-cranking-the-hate-crimes-dial-up-to-11. Most people will accept the idea that "people being ridiculously terribly prejudiced is bad," but when the image of prejudice the story paints is so divorced from any sort of lived experience, they will not see prejudice as a harmful flaw that real human people are capable of perpetuating, and they won't recognize it when they see it from the outside in real life - they'll see it as another hypothetical flavor of evil villainy that some bad people intrinsically do.

Prejudice is such a widely experienced issue, especially the "omnipresent invisible uncertainty of whether or not I am safe right now" thing, that it's baffling to me that so many of these stories don't seem to… get it? While the specific nature varies in every case, there is fundamental overlap in the experience! Like, I absolutely do not experience it the same way a lot of other people do - I am very white-looking, and too blonde for the garden-variety antisemites to figure me out, so race-based harassment has never targeted me - but I've been an underage woman in creepy-older-male-dominated spaces, I spent about half my middle school years as the target of nearly-nonstop bullying (a lot of it from people who I otherwise got along fine with and knew were ultimately well-meaning with a blind spot for casual cruelty), and in the past I've been cyberstalked and harassed by random entitled weirdos for long periods of time. I am very aware of the feeling of "there is a target on my back, and I just hope nobody hits it too hard today," and it seems to me that that specific feeling cannot possibly be this difficult to communicate.

It's like these writers read about how prejudice worked and were like "some people hate people for how they were born, got it" and just put that in their world without any nuance. Actually, I say it's like that, but considering the demographics dominating publishing, that's probably exactly why it happens so much.

[wutheringmights]

Can I be greedy and ask for all of the boys ? And any characters you have strong opinions on? Pretty please? With lots of cherries and chocolate on top? ( for the ask meme ofc)

Anon, I'll finish up all of the boys in the Chain just for you. And trust me, I have an Infinite Amount of Strong Opinions. You have no idea how Opinionated I Am.

If anyone is coming in late to this, here are the boys I have done already and a short summary of my thoughts (click the hyperlinks to get the full Opinion):

Warriors: he's best when he's the trashy anti-Link, and I like him so much

Twilight: kind of boring, but I have a soft spot for him anyway because you never forget your first

Wind: should have been aged up a little so that he can have that identity crisis I'm craving

This... gets long. Really long. 3-hours-of-work-long. Before you read, please note that even when I speak negatively about something, it’s not to diss anyone who does like the thing. I’m not vague posting or being passive aggressive. This is all written in good humor and good faith. 

That being said, let’s a-go!

-Sky-

What I love about them: He has one of the best character arcs of all the Links. I love that he starts off being lazy and kind of a jerk, but grows as a person because he wants to save his friend. And I love that he's truly the most courageous Link. He has no other successful hero of past or legacy to lean back upon to reassure him. He walked into that fight with Demise with no assurance from anyone that he would succeed. Yet, he does it anyway. Because he's a true hero and someone had to be one. And he's rewarded with a curse that he does not initially take seriously. He thinks he's saved everyone, yet he's cursed his spirit, possibly his bloodline, and his entire legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule into a doomed cycle of destruction. All because he dared to face evil incarnate. I love him.

What I hate about them: You know how I called Twilight boring? I should have saved that critique for Sky. LU Sky is actually the most boring interpretation of his character. All of his negative traits? Gone. All of his positives? Also gone. He's the blandest version of himself, and like Twilight, I now feel like I gotta add some spice to him to make him more interesting while still keeping him recognizable. Even so, he's still one of my favorite Links.

Favorite Moment/Quote: When he kicks Twilight's ass at sword fighting. That's stuff is *chef's kiss*

What I would like to see more focus on: You would think that there would be more angst out there about him realizing that he's actually been cursed, but it's still kind of hard to find. He's the Cursed Knight! The beginning of a terrible legacy! Imagine meeting a bunch of heroes for the first time, and instead of being relieved at having someone who understands your experiences, you're filled with horror at realizing that your victory was a false one. You didn't win. Your spirit will never be at rest. Imagine dealing with that realization for the rest of your life. You could never be at peace.

What I would like to see less focus on: I love that he loves his wife, but he's more just the fact that he's married, y'know? I would like to see a little less blind devotion to Hylia and Zelda, and more complicated feelings about being manipulated into being the hero.

Favorite pairing with: Sun/Link/Groose OT3! I have no reasoning behind this other than I like Groose and Groose definitely had a crush on SkSw Link.

Favorite friendship: I won't answer Groose again even if I want to, so I'll say Warriors. I cannot begin to describe how elite this friendship would be if you gave it a chance. They're just two boys dealing with unique positions of leadership and responsibility. They would probably even bond over being shitheads at different ends of the shithead spectrum. It's so good, okay?

NOTP: Ghirahim. I'm not too adverse to this one, but the ship hinges on whether you can redeem Ghirahim or not. In my opinion, Ghirahim is awesome because he's such a fun villain. Redeeming him ruins the fun.

Favorite headcanon: I have a whole life story planned out for Sky. Basically, he lives to be close to 500 years old by the power of the Triforce. He is the Link throughout the Era of Chaos who banishes the Dark Interlopers to the Twilight Realm and seals the Triforce in the Sacred Realm. He actually seals himself in the Sacred Realm as well to keep the Triforce safe, and he fought Ganondorf in when he broke in. Sky, like Time and Wind, does not get a happy ending.

-Four-

What I love about them: Four is origin of the heroes of Hyrule being known for being children. What a legacy to leave behind. He's such an interesting case of an incarnation of the Hero's Spirit, too. He fought Vaati, and he did his job so well that Demise's next incarnation had to be Ganondorf. Four did his job the best out of everyone, and it came at the cost of creating a magic sword that changed him permanently. I like to think that the Four Sword was not meant to split him, that it was a mistake he made with the design. And it's sad, isn't it? You made a defective sword, and like any good sword, it has a symbolic double edge. It gifted you with so much, and yet he can never be the same again. And his story is never well-remembered because it is overshadowed by the Links who fought the King of Evil. He's does so much, yet his legacy is underappreciated.

What I hate about them: I want to prepare you for this Opinion, because I know it's unpopular. Are you ready? Okay. I don't like the Colors. I'm sorry. I want to like them, but they don't interest me at all. Because they are parts of Four’s personality, they have to be one-note archetypes which does not make for exciting storytelling. I also haven't found a fic yet that has been from Four's POV that did the internal monologue of the Colors in a way that wasn't a pain in the ass to read. Maybe if someone can figure out how to do the Colors in a way that doesn't feel like a drag, I would like them more. But in the end, I think Four himself is more interesting than the Colors.

Favorite Moment/Quote: The fact that he didn't want to touch the Master Sword because he doesn't trust magic swords. That is every I need to know about his opinion on his own adventures.

What I would like to see more focus on: I want more of Four as Four. It's getting harder to find content of Four being his own person first and the Colors second.

What I would like to see less focus on: Four being the Colors first and his own person second. There is something about viewing Four as this cover identity for the Colors that doesn't feel right. There's a balance that needs to be strike between his ability to split, how that affects his every day life, and his own identity of being Four. I think I may have read one fic that hit that sweet spot for me, but still.

Favorite pairing with: Shadow. I'm such a sucker for befriending and falling for the enemy. That is all.

Favorite friendship: Dot! Their friendship is super cute. I like the idea of them being super close when they were younger and struggling to keep the friendship going as they age due to how much their paths in life diverge.

NOTP: This isn't necessarily a Four or an LU problem, but people who ship the Colors together? Bro. C'mon.

Favorite headcanon: I'm torn between two different Four and the Master Sword headcanons. On one hand, Four thinking that the Master Sword is just legend until he meets Sky and everyone else is just a fun idea. He sees the legendary sword for the first time and his mind is blown. On the other hand, I also like my Four with a side of hubris. What if he had the option on his quest to draw the Master Sword himself? What if he could tell that if he did that, the consequences would be terrible. He's not sure what would happen, but he knows it would be terrible. So he decided to make his own sword instead to disastrous results. Wouldn't that be tragic or what?

-Time-

What I love about them: Last winter, I did a two hour powerpoint for my friends about the Legend of Zelda timeline. During that powerpoint, I was rating every iteration of Link. What I said about the Hero of Time then holds true to my thoughts of LU Time now. Time is the original Link, more so than Sky in the lore and Legend/Hyrule in real life. Every other hero is a reflection of him. So the fact that his story is about the loss of childhood and the tragedy of that is incredible, and you can see those themes reflected in every other game. Moreso, he’s the only Link with a confirmed tragic ending. Not only does he end his life unsatisfied, but his adventure is failure on every timeline. In the adult timeline, Hyrule is swallowed by the sea. In the child one, Ganondorf returns again. In the fallen timeline, Hyrule fell. I like the idea since that the games themselves are the legends that are past down about each hero, Hylians have also remembered Time as a tragic figure. Yet, they also remember that the happy moments for his life come from small acts of kindness. Even someone as sad as him finds joy in helping others, even if it’s just to small deeds that will not be heralded as grand heroic quests. It’s beautiful.

What I hate about them: This is more about Mask than Time, but Mask is not an adult in a child’s body. He did not rewind time in Termina enough to be considered mentally an adult. He’s a young teenager at best, and that’s me being generous. He is a child who was forced to be an adult and despite the gods being done with him, he cannot conceive of ever having a childhood again. So he can say all he wants that he’s an adult, but he is not. That’s just what he thinks he is.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Anytime we get a flashback to him being a younger adult is great. I want to see more of his in this his early adulthood.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think I just want more of Time being... not a bad leader, but being an imperfect one. I honestly think he’s only the leader because he’s the oldest and enough of the heroes recognize the title of Hero of Time. But he is not the leader type, and he is struggling to keep it together and has to defer to Twilight and Warriors for help a lot. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I’m not the biggest fan of Dad!Time for any of the Links. He’s not emotionally ready for it. And I think he defaults to treating the boys like adults because that’s how he wanted to be treated when he was their age. 

Favorite pairing with: Malon. He has this great partnership of equal respect with her and it’s just. So good.

Favorite friendship: Linebeck. I know. This exists only in my head. But if these two ever meet, you cannot convince me that they would not get along swimmingly. It would be so good (once Linebeck gets over his crush on Time and stops hitting on him, of course).

NOTP: Child Timeline Zelda. Let me explain: I fully believe in Bi Time supremacy, and when in OoT, he definitely had a crush on Sheik. However, one of the worst parts of rewinding time and being in the child timeline is that Zelda is a completely different person now. They may have been friends in the other timeline, but her life experiences are completely different now. She is not the same person as he once knew. And it’s tragic to know someone as who they could have been, not as they are.

Favorite headcanon: After Termina, Time spent a lot of time with the Nabooru because out of everyone he knew, she’s the only who took him seriously even as a child. She has big older sister energy, and he considers her a part of his family. However, being treated as such made it easier for him to ignore his issues and put off his healing process by a few years.

-Legend-

What I love about them: Veteran of Heroes! What a freaking title. I love that he keeps on finding adventures, and that he keeps hustling. Even if he complains about never getting a break, you can tell that he loves helping others. He loves being on the road, never settling down, and finding adventure after adventure. Honestly, if any of the Links had a calling to be a hero, it’s him. Is he tired? Sure. Is he a little jaded after having saved Hyrule and a bunch of other kingdoms multiple times? Yes. But at the end of the day, he likes being a hero. This is who he is. His complaining is not genuine; he just plays the martyr because, at this point, he’s earned the right to.

What I hate about them: If you can’t tell by now, I have a, uh, different interpretation of Legend from popular canon. Fandom Legend is not right to me. He is unrecognizable. It is hard to write him because I feel like I have to balance what other people think Legend should be versus how I think he is. The people who are big Legend enjoyers probably feel the same way about my version of Warriors, and that’s fine. I’m not going to gel with every character and I don’t expect everyone to gel with how I see characters either. It’s goes both ways, y’know.

Favorite Moment/Quote: I like how subtly he tried to approach the Wolfie problem at first, trying to ask questions and get more proof before confronting Twilight. It’s a good touch.

What I would like to see more focus on: If I had to choose one thing, it’s this one throw away line about him never wanting to settle down. I’m telling you, folks! He likes his lifestyle! And did you see him when he does presenting the origins of the hero? He’s not bitter about being a hero! Legend is moody, but he is not angsty about the whole hero thing. Have fun with him please!

What I would like to see less focus on: If you can’t tell by now, Legend is my least favorite Link. There is a lot I want to see less of, but just to name one thing, it’s the headcanon that Fable is his sister. I live and die by common born Link, and whether he’s a legitimate heir or the royal bastard, I am more than bored with the persistent Prince!Legend content.

Favorite pairing with: Marin. It’s a good tragic story and I like it well enough. She’s cute, and he’s cute with her.

Favorite friendship: Warriors. I’m with everyone else on these two have peak sibling energy. They tease and pick on each other, but only they are allowed to mess with each other. They’re each other’s bully, and it’s always good to see.

NOTP: I do not have enough energy to have a lot of strong opinions about Legend’s romantic relationships, but I will mentioned that I have lost a lot of love for Ravio recently and am liking seeing him with Legend less and less. I have no better reason for this than the fact that I finally played ALBW and hate how many of my hard earned rupees he’s taken from me by withholding important, lifesaving items. Rat bastard.

Favorite headcanon: Remember my headcanon about him being the coolest bad boy folk hero on the block because everyone thinks he kidnapped Zelda? Yeah, I still stand by that one. I did good there.

-Hyrule-

What I love about them: If there is any Link that I would call a gutter rat, it is this one. I struggle a bit to talk about Hyrule since his games gives us so little, but in the end, I always fall back on him being a hero of the people. He is the one who has nothing and relates the best to people who are at their lowest. Yet, he is still a hero. He earns the right to be a hero because he helped Impa in her time of need. He’s selfless and competent. Even if he never got a traditional education, I bet he’s wicked smart too. He is the Link that symbolizes all of the parts of the Triforce the most. And, god. I cannot talk about him without mentioning the blood sacrifice part of LA. It’s such a cool concept, and I cannot imagine what it must be like to go from being the rough and tumble, win-at-all-costs fighting to protecting yourself first because if you don’t, the consequences are disastrous. It’s paradoxical, and it must be such a different mindset to fall into. But it must also be a blessing in disguise since now he has a reason to finally care about himself.

What I hate about them: Who started the Hyrule is innocent headcanon? Come over here because we need to exchange some words. If there is anyone who would be a realist and know how the world works, it’s this guy. And while we’re here, who came up with the Hryule is always lost headcanon? I also have some words for you. And you know what? WHILE WE’RE HERE, who let him be named Hyrule? I’m have more than choice words for you. His name scheme is the bane of my existence and the express reason why I don’t write him more. God.

Favorite Moment/Quote: That one panel where he takes utter delight in Warriors hiding from his scorned lovers? That is a central pillar in my understanding of Hyrule.

What I would like to see more focus on: Again, his relationship with other people. Even if his games are lacking in NPCs, we know from lore that he’s a good guy who will jump in to help others. He must know plenty of people, and I want to see who exists in his world with him. 

What I would like to see less focus on: I have an on-going joke with my brother that certain characters are Catholic, even if Catholicism does not exist in the world of the thing we’re watching or playing. Of course, we’re not being serious. we’re just joshing around. So imagine the gut punch I feel whenever I see people say Hyrule is Christian and realize that they’re being serious. I just can’t take it seriously.

Favorite pairing with: Aurora. It’s cute and I’m a sucker for that hero and royalty dynamic, especially when the hero is a peasant. It’s so cheesy, but I love it.

Favorite friendship: Legend. But not the way everyone else pairs them up as the grumpy one and the sunshine one. I think of it more as them being the pinnacle of boys being boys. They’re shitheads. They do stupid shit together. They both have a dark sense of humor. They joke that they’re practically the same person sometimes.

NOTP: uhhhhhhhhh.... Is he paired with anyone else?

Favorite headcanon: I love the idea that he just likes his way of life and refuses to accept anyone saying otherwise. Legend wants to teach him to read? Sorry, but he’s never had to read before in his life so he’s pretty sure he’ll never need it anyway. Want to participate in the treasured Hylian tradition of piercing your ears when you come of age? Why would he ever do that when a monster could rip those earrings off? He’s stuck in his ways and it frustrates everyone else to no end, but he has no interest in ever changing.

-Wild-

What I love about them: When I was 9, I spent my time online on Legend of Zelda forums. I remember one of my forum friends saying that they wanted a Legend of Zelda game where Link lost. And I think of that friend whenever I think about Wild. BOTW Link is the best Link that has ever been. He is the epitome of every trait we associate with any Link. He’s smart and sassy. He’s hard working and kind. But underlining all of that is the fact that he’s still the one who failed. If Demise’s Curse in SkSw is the set-up, the Great Calamity is the payoff. And I haven’t even talked about how confirming him as being non-verbal before the Calamity does so much for his characterization. I don’t even know where to start or how to articulate it. By game storyline alone, Wild is one of my favorites.

What I hate about them: You guys knew this one was coming, but I’m going to have to say it anyway. Fandom Wild.... not good. I’ve said it for half of these boys so far, but god is it true. I have a way I see Wild that is rarely done in the fandom. Fandom Wild has a lot of the traits I also see in Wild, but to all of the extremes. I will mention one thing in particular as being a pet peeve, and it’s how some people headcanon him as always being nonverbal. I know what they’re trying to do, and I think they’re on to something, but they’re also missing the point of what BOTW Link’s character arc is. I just wish more people would forget fandom and work more off of the games for how to characterize him.

Favorite Moment/Quote: Weirdly enough, my favorite moment is when he got mad at everyone for making fun of his Gerudo outfit, so he dumped Goron Spice in his cooking. It’s encapsulates a part of his character I think a lot of people forget about.

What I would like to see more focus on: I think he has a really complicated relationship with his past. He said himself that his old self felt like a different person, and I think that should be explored a lot more. That idea actually fascinates me so much that instead of CTB, I almost wrote a character study fic about Wild. His emotions are not as simple as feeling guilty about letting his friends die and not preventing the Calamity. His emotions would be so complicated and because I don’t have the time to explore it, someone else needs to do it for me.

What I would like to see less focus on: There is a weird fascination with Wild having memory loss and essentially being like a kid again. And this feels infantilizing to me. It honestly bugs me a lot every time I see it.

Favorite pairing with: I can’t decide between Zelda, Mipha, and Revali. They’re all different dynamics and they’re all good.

Favorite friendship: Paya. I firmly believe that Paya is Wild’s best friend. I am the only one in the world who believes this. But I am also the only one in the world who is correct. 

NOTP: Wild is good with everyone. Good for him!

Favorite headcanon: An essential scene of my Wild character study I will never write is one where his horse dies. He goes into shock and walks back to Kakariko to talk to Impa. But once he goes to her, he breaks down in tears and has an absolute melt down over the horse. And Impa sagely says, “It’s not about the horse, is it?” She’s implying that he’s actually mourning the loss of his friends, Hyrule, his life, everything-- but through his tears, he keeps tell her that she’s wrong. He barely remembers them. He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t have any feelings about them. He just really loved that horse. But Impa refuses to listen to him, just repeating over and over again: “it’s not really about the horse.”

And that’s it! That’s all of my opinions! I know a lot of my opinions are polarizing, but everything I said is in good faith, and I am not trying to diss anyone for how they approach these characters.

I welcome you to send me your Opinions on the Links, even if it���s just to disagree with me. I’m cool with it, and I like knowing what everyone else thinks!

[anathtsurugi]

A sneak peek at chapter 3...

Well, the new chapter won’t be up until next Monday, so I thought you all might like a little taste now.

If you’re interested and/or able, the full chapter is available right now on my Patreon. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy...

~*~

Rex didn't often feel the need to indulge Jesse's 'moods'. Outside of a hot combat zone, his brother had his way of dealing with things and he had his. He didn't often grasp Jesse's sense of humor and so had given up trying. But as the pair of them made their way to the comms center to flag the Council the next morning, it became almost painfully difficult to ignore the other trooper's subtle smirk and sideways glances. Difficult to the point of-

"All right, soldier," he finally snapped in exasperation, "before you ask anything-"

"Oh, I wasn't gonna, Commander," he mocked playfully, offering a dig to Rex's pauldron. "But since you brought it up, answer me one thing."

"No promises," Rex ground out.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yes, actually. We did," he threw back in triumph.

"We, Commander?" Jesse needled, raising a pointed eyebrow at him as he moved to walk backwards in front of him.

"Kark," he grunted in self-chastisement as he shook his head.

"Speaking freely here, Rex, but Thank. Kark," Jesse groaned with a kind of acerbic relief. "A lot of us were starting to wonder if the pot was just gonna keep growing indefinitely."

"The pot?" Rex pressed as his brother fell back into step with him.

"Oh, yeah. Longest standing betting pool in the seedy underbelly of the 501st. When's Rex gonna lose his-"

"You all were betting on me?" he demanded incredulously.

"Don't look so shocked there, Rex. I wouldn't let it bother you. Besides, I guess the winner's technically Echo...even if he isn't part of the 501st anymore."

"Why? What was his bet?" he asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, suddenly wondering if he even should've rescued his vod from the clutches of the Techno Union.

"Always said it wasn't gonna happen. That that particular piece of hardware was gonna stay shiny unless it was with someone you really loved," he said, suddenly becoming serious as they entered the center. "And you love her."

The only response Rex could manage as they gathered at the projector was a nod. It was the truest thing he'd ever known but, at the same time, it was still so new...so fragile...

"Course, she loves you, too...y'know, if that was something you were worried about."

"Honestly, Jesse, I'll probably just spend the rest of my life waiting for her to wake up and realize she can do better than someone like me," he said, staring vaguely down at the glowing projector ring, not really seeing it.

"Don't sell yourself short there, vod," Jesse said, voice striking a balance somewhere between solemn and silly. "You're always saying how she's the best of the Jedi, well...you're probably the best of us. That's gotta count for something."

"Jesse-"

But before he could get another word in, an image flickered to life beside them. An image of Anakin Skywalker.

In the few moments he had to look at his general before Anakin noticed them, Rex had to say that he looked...exhausted. He had seen the Jedi knight running on little sleep and lack of food, but this was different. The weariness he saw was bone deep...soul deep even. The only thing he could think to compare it to was...the brief glimpses he'd caught of Master Kenobi's face after Duchess Satine's death.

"General?" he started in concern before he could stop himself. But when Anakin looked over to see them, his expression visibly brightened just that little bit.

"Hey, Rex, Jesse. I understand the 501st's oldest pool has been...resolved," he said with a tiny look of amusement.

"Sir, yes, Sir," Jesse said with obvious relish. "Seems the Commander here was kept up quite late."

"Careful there, Jesse. That's my Snips you're talking about," the Jedi warned, his voice only mildly threatening. Then he shifted his eyes more toward Rex. "She sorta grew up without us, didn't she."

"That she did- Sir," he said awkwardly, struggling to keep his expression neutral. Just because their general knew about the situation probably didn't mean he would want to hear about his former apprentice in certain...situations.

"Guess this is the part where I tell you that if you hurt her, you die," he said with a shrug, the same almost haunted weariness flickering back across his face. "Doesn't matter how many battles we've fought."

"Though I wouldn't doubt she's capable of killing me herself if it ever came to that...if it ever did, General...I would let you take my head off and gladly...because I wouldn't deserve to have it at that point," he said, his hands briefly clenching into fists as his gaze dropped.

But the silence following his words seemed to stretch almost too long, and when he finally looked back up at his general, it was to a look he couldn't wholly identify in his eyes. Ultimately, though, the look collapsed into an exhausted smile before the Jedi nodded in approval.

"You'll be fine. We're gonna have a lot to talk about when you guys get back, and I do mean a lot. But Rex, until then I've really only got one order for you."

"General?"

"Take care of her. Take care of each other. No matter what happens, I want you to be there for her," he said, as serious as Rex had ever heard him.

"You don't have to order that of me... nor even ask it," he returned. "As I told Maul when this all started, I would choose her life over mine every time. I will always protect her. Always."

"I believe you," Anakin said with a sure look, but before he could say anything more, he looked over and offered a subtle, "Master Windu," in greeting just before the older Jedi stepped into the holo image, letting them know that the conversation was over. But as Jesse gave a brief recounting of his time in command of the new division, Rex's thoughts kept going back to the strange looks he'd seen on Anakin's face. He couldn't make sense of it, but he could see that something was going on with his general.

The sooner they got back to Coruscant, the better.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

(Written for Adrien August... I'm not sorry)

Bad Luck: Frozer

Summary: Adrien struggles to move on from his first crush so he confides in one of his friends. Or is she more than a friend?

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

Chat Noir smiled sadly down at the red rose in his hands. Passion, romance, true love, he recalled in his head.

"Chat?"

Hiding the rose behind his back as he turned around, Chat Noir grinned at the question in Ladybug's eyes. "I have to say that rescuing civilians without a supervillain around is a nice change of pace. Don't you think, My Lady?"

"Not every day you see a hang glider delivery service," she agreed, smiling at the nickname.

Chest suddenly constricting Chat Noir's smile became a touch strained. "Love to stay and chat but this cat's gotta run!" Taking out his baton he extended it, launching himself away.

"Oh! See you la... ter..." Ladybug called to his retreating form.

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

Landing in the empty locker room Adrien detransformed in a flash of green light. Plagg stretching as he came out of the ring.

Eyeing Adrien's downcast features, Plagg pried at his holder. "It's not like you to leave Ladybug so abruptly."

"Yeah..." Adrien absently offered a wedge of Camembert to his floating friend who promptly swallowed it whole. "Guess I just need some time to myself."

"So she turned you down. There's plenty of other kinds of cheese!"

Despite himself Adrien smiled. "You need better metaphors."

Plagg shrugged. "You could always take it literally. You can never have enough cheese!"

Adrien rolled his eyes as he changed into his fencing gear. Plagg wasn't as articulate as he thought but... he wasn't wrong...

These thoughts swirled in Adrien's head as he joined Kagami at practice.

A mistake he paid for when Kagami knocked him off his feet. Standing, Adrien parried as Kagami lunged. She always gave her all in beating her opponent. Scoring a point he smiled and they retook their positions.

But his heart still wasn't into the sparing session and her next lunge drove him off balance. Her foil poking into his chest.

"Predictable," Kagami chastised.

Eyes narrowing, Adrien's more competitive nature surged forward at her words. Heart beating faster, grip tightening on his foil and-

It was gone as soon as it came.

Leaving Adrien vulnerable to Kagami's strike...

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

Adrien stared pensively at his fencing helmet. He knew Ladybug didn't like him the same way he liked her. That wasn't anything new. So why was he-

"What's wrong, Adrien? Usually I like beating you but it's no fun when you make it this easy." Kagami stood in front of him with an unreadable expression.

Adrien gave her a bittersweet smile. "You ever feel like you're stuck, Kagami? Like, no matter how much you try to move forward, nothing will ever, ever change?"

Kagami blinked in surprise as Adrien opened up to her. This wasn't what she was expecting... Sitting next to him Kagami took a moment to collect her thoughts. "Adrien. The biggest mistake a fencer can make isn't choosing the wrong technique. It's choosing the wrong target."

Oh. She liked metaphors too. Well, with his luck to was bound to-

Her hand gently cupped his cheek and turned his head to face her. "So, switch targets."

...Oh. A rose tint colored Adrien's cheeks. Kagami was always beautiful but for some reason... it was especially true just then.

Smiling in encouragement Kagami grabbed her things and walked out of the locker room. Leaving Adrien to his thoughts.

He stared after her for a moment... Launching to his feet Adrien raced after her in a moment of sheer panic and recklessness.

"Kagami!" Adrien practically shouted.

Not having gone far Kagami turned around, puzzled.

Taking a deep breath, heart pounding against his ribs, Adrien let out the thought that propelled him to his feet. "Would you like to go out some time!?"

Kagami's eyes went wide. "Out? As in a date?"

The color on Adrien's cheeks bloomed into scarlet. Suddenly even more self-conscious he rubbed the back of his neck- "Um," -and nodded. His mouth refusing to form words.

Half turning, Kagami gave him a small smile. "I'd like that."

Adrien felt his lips pull into a grin. Heart somersaulting in his chest for some reason.

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

"What should I do, Plagg?" Adrien bemoaned. Head thunking onto his computer desk. "I've never been on a date before!"

"Wasn't this your idea?" Plagg flipped through his favorite cheese magazine. He swore this romance nonsense was the silliest invention humans had ever come up with. "If you ask me it's about time you expanded your palate."

"You're no help," Adrien grumbled. Lifting his head up Adrien swiveled around to look at Plagg. "What if I asked Father or Nathalie for advice?"

"Sure." Plagg stretched lazily. "If ya want them to know about you and sword girl."

Sighing, Adrien discounted that idea. "Oh! We can ask the Gorilla!"

"I don't know," Plagg mused, "doesn't seem like a good idea."

"You just don't like it 'cause he found your Camembert stash that time," Adrien teased, poking Plagg lightly.

"It was perfectly edible! How could he!?"

Chuckling at his antics, Adrien thought about who he could go to for advice...

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

Adrien tried not to hurry ahead of Kagami into the ice rink proper. The chill making his arm hairs stand on end. His breath sharp in his throat. Heart beating with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Asking Marinette had been a great idea!

He turned back to see Alya and Nino slowly catch up. If only she could have made it. But that essay on periwinkle migration sounded important to her... Oh, Chloe's dad was here.

As they put on their skates Adrien glanced at Kagami out of the corner of his eye. Scooting closer to Nino he whispered: "Thanks for coming last minute, Nino."

"Hey, no problem dude! Anything for my bro." Nino's grin was a tad forced and his eyes drifted to something behind Adrien before snapping back.

"I don't know what to do with Kagami."Adrien admitted, leaning in. "Should I... offer to hold her hand?"

"Yes!" Nino snapped his fingers and held up finger guns at Adrien. His eyes flickered away again. "I mean, no! I mean- Why don't you take it slow?"

Adrien turned around to see what Nino was looking at but it was just Alya smiling politely, hands behind her back. Probably waiting patiently for him to finish with her boyfriend.

Straightening, Adrien smiled at her. "Thanks for coming, Alya."

"No big deal! Just a double date, right!" Alya smiled wide in an attempt to draw attention away from her accidental inflection.

"...Right." Adrien politely declined to comment on it.

"Anyway!" Alya grabbed Nino's hand and dragged him off. "We'll let you two get to it!"

Adrien turned back to Kagami, who was tying her skates. Hesitantly, he made his way over and stood beside her.

"Don't be scared," Kagami promised conspiratorially as she looked up, "I won't tell anyone."

"About what?" Adrien asked slowly.

"That you don't know how to tie your laces," she teased, kneeling down to do just that. Once done Kagami smiled at him, grabbed his hand and led him onto the ice.

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

"I can't believe you agreed to this!" Alya stage whispered. Arm locked tightly around Nino's elbow as they skated on the opposite side of the rink.

"Aw, c'mon Als. Y'know I couldn't leave my bro hanging like that!" Nino widened his eyes and tried to sparkle them like Adrien had. "He gave me the look. How could I say no to that?"

"I know..." Alya sighed. The crease between her eyes softening from accusation to guilt. "I just..." Adrien and Kagami caught her eye as they skated hand in hand. "Feel like I'm betraying my girl just by being here."

Nino patted her hand and gave her a soft smile. "I'm sure the dudette will understand." His gaze drifted towards Adrien and Kagami. "Besides... I don't think she'd want to see this."

"Hey, young man! Have you ever thought about signing up for ice skating lessons!?"

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

Kagami turned her head as Alya and Nino skated past them on their lap. "Did you invite them because you were scared of being alone with me?"

"Of course not!" Adrien lied, waving his hand to ward off her words. "It's just... that I asked Nino to help... me."

Her brow creased. "Help you with what?"

"Uh, to perfect my figure skating skills!" Adrien decided.

"But you don't need him for that." Suddenly, Kagami let go of his hand and launched into a short routine of spins and twirls.

Adrien blinked at her presentation before an appreciative smile graced his lips. Kagami has so many talents, Adrien thought as she talked with that man who had been discussing something with Mayor Bourgeois.

Seamlessly, Kagami interlaced their fingers as she took his hand again and pulled him forward with her momentum. Glancing at his smile through the corner of her eye.

"Adrien Agreste, I can see it now!" The skating instructor (that's what he was) was suddenly beside Adrien. "Grace and style model! And professional ice skating champion! If you take lessons with me I'll have you shining like the candles on a birthday cake!"

Skating? Adrien had never thought about it before. "Uh, may-beeee!"

Kagami switched their positions so she was closest to the instructor. "He already does fencing with me," she informed him. And sped up with Adrien in tow.

Adrien stared at the back of Kagami's head. She was very assertive in her desires, bold even. Kagami knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. He admired that about her, was drawn to it. Kagami would meet any challenge without backing down.

Just like Ladybug.

His fingers slipped from Kagami's grasp as he slowed to a stop. Staring at the floor as his cheeks burned not with embarrassment but shame.

"Adrien? What is it?" Kagami asked as she circled back.

Adrien smiled. "Nothing. I just have to use the restroom real quick." Turning, he let his smile fall as he left the rink.

Plagg poked his head out of his pocket once they were alone. "What's gotten into you, kid?"

Adrien stared at him. "I don't know."

Worry started to prick at Plagg's fur. "Adrien-"

"I don't know what I want, Plagg!" His heart hammered against his chest, pulse rising to his throat. "Kagami knows. Ladybug knows. Chat Noir thought he knew but... but I don't." Adrien wrapped his arms around himself, making himself smaller.

"... Listen, you're young right? Even by human standards? Like a freshly made wheel of Camembert."

Adrien frowned, turning away. "Plagg-"

"Hear me out!" Plagg zipped closer to Adrien's face, keeping in his line of sight. "But freshly made Camembert is terrible! It's got no flavor! No delicious scent! You need to let it age to bring out all the good stuff."

Adrien glanced at Plagg. Seeing his tail twitching in concern even if he wouldn't voice it. Strangely, Adrien understood what he was trying to say.

"All cheeses age differently. There's nothing wrong with taking your time." Plagg finished, not quite satisfied with how it came out.

Adrien smiled at him, reaching out to pet his head. "Thanks, Plagg."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Plagg let himself be petted. Not because he enjoyed it, of course. It just happened to make Adrien feel better.

Suddenly, ice started crawling up the walls. Magic coming from the ice rink. "Oh, no. Guess we have to go save the day," Plagg said, very disappointedly, yes.

Adrien grinned as he brought out the transformation cheese. "Uh-huh."

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

Chat Noir's good humor lasted until he spotted Ladybug on a rooftop. Oh. He didn't... want to see her right now. Reluctantly, he landed beside her. Doing his best to keep the conflicting emotions wrestling in his chest off his face.

"Chat Noir! We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink." Ladybug anchored her yo-yo onto a nearby building, ready to take off.

Say something. Say something! "My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack." Ha! Nailed it! Chat Noir scooted closer to the roof's edge as he scanned the frozen city.

Ladybug gave him a puzzled look. "What? Since when?"

Chat Noir pouted. "Rude."

Shaking her head as she fought back a fond smile Ladybug inched towards him. "We have to work together on this."

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, catching her eye. "I don't know. We don't have to do everything together. If we split up we'll have a better chance of finding him." Chat Noir jumped. "Race you!"

"Chat Noir, be careful!" Ladybug called out as he sped away. "... Okay, so he's acting weird. Not the first time he's acted weird. It'll be fine!" She cast her yo-yo and swung off. I hope.

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

Being by himself helped Adrien order his thoughts. His feelings were all over the place so he focused on doing what he told Ladybug he was gonna do. It was child's play to follow the only imperfection on otherwise smooth ice. Leading him to the Eiffel Tower where the akuma victim was hiding.

Okay. Now I just need to-

Frozer launched himself at Ladybug!

Acting quickly Chat Noir tackled Ladybug out of the way. Grabbing her hand and leading her onto the frozen Seine. Skating away at top speed to put some distance between them and Frozer.

"Thanks, kitty!" Ladybug smiled.

And Adrien smiled back. Confusing questions forgotten for the moment. Then Frozer launched shards of ice; Chat Noir letting go of Ladybug's hand so they could dodge it. Only then realizing that he'd been holding it at all.

"He's too fast!"

She was right. Frozer easily kept pace with them. Leaping into the air to launch more ice shards. Rounding a bend in the river they were out of sight for a second. Taking advantage of it to hide.

"I'm positive the akuma's in his skates," Ladybug stated once Frozer passed them.

"My Cataclysm could destroy them but he'd have to be up in the air... You were right My Lady. We're going to have to set a trap."

"You were right, too. We observed and now we know enough."

Chat Noir smiled. "Seems we're just missing a little push of luck to get the edge on him."

Ladybug nodded. "Lucky Charm!"

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

Adrien raced back to the ice rink. In the end the plan had been pretty straightforward. Ladybug baited Frozer into following her while Chat Noir laid in wait.

Business as usual. Except...

'Are you sure you're okay? You've been off since yesterday.'

'...I'm just figuring some things out. Might take me a while but that's okay... Thanks for worrying about me.'

Being around Ladybug didn't make him feel quite so sad anymore. Chat Noir meant it when he said her friendship was important to him, after all. And... Adrien was happy. That he could be normal around her.

He spotted Alya and Nino discussing something, waving at them as he looked for... There. Kagami was returning her skates. Adrien walked up to her, fidgeting with his ring. "Uh, hey, Kagami. Sorry I ran off like that."

"It is fine. We were interrupted anyway."

Adrien couldn't tell how she meant that but he took a deep breath and forged ahead. "So, I know I'm the one who asked you out and all. But..."

Kagami frowned. "Are you saying you do not wish to date me?"

"No!" Adrien waved both hands emphatically in the negative. "No, no, no! I just... wanted to say that I think we should take it slow."

She raised an eyebrow. "We go any slower and our pace will be glacial."

Adrien was 90 percent sure that was a joke... 80 percent. "W-well if you think it's too much of a challenge..."

Kagami's eyes widened at Adrien's audacity. She poked him in the chest. "Don't flatter yourself, Agreste."

Without thinking, Adrien grabbed her hand and kissed the back of her palm. Kagami's answering blush nowhere near as radiant as Adrien's. Why did I do that!? Who froze for a moment before turning around. "W-wouldn't dream of it... Ryuko."

"Ryuko?" Kagami raised a brow at the nickname.

Adrien's hand went back to rubbing his neck. "I can call you something else if you don't like it."

"No," Kagami decided, a small smile on her lips as she passed Adrien on her way to the exit. "Ryuko will do just fine."

"... So, that's a yes?" Adrien sprinted to catch up.

"Mm, perhaps if you define what you think 'taking it slow' is."

Adrien leapt in front of her and held out his hand. "Let us drive you home?"

Kagami blinked at the offered hand. Slowly reaching out for it. His palm was warm in hers. "Going slow is not too bad. I suppose," she relented.

Adrien beamed. "Oh! Just one last thing!"

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

Kagami entered the Agreste car as Adrien held the door open, sliding in behind her. "You're still doing what other people want."

"No, I just want him to be happy," Adrien countered. Giving the skating instructor free advertising didn't cost him anything. "Besides, how're we supposed to come back if it's a Chloe catered gym?"

"Back?" That sounded promising.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and couldn't quite look at her but he smiled. "Since our first date was cut short I was hoping we could try again."

Kagami gazed at Adrien as he fidgeted. "Just the two of us?"

"Y-yup!" Adrien's face burned.

"Good. You're crush on Nino was distracting."

"Wh-what!?" Adrien spluttered.

"... You're crush on Nino? I thought everyone knew. Personally, I prefer Alya but-"

"I don't- That is- I..." Adrien's shoulders slumped. "His eyes are so beautiful, it's like he stares into your soul."

Kagami's hands hovered awkwardly. "I am sorry. I thought you knew."

Adrien buried his face in his hands to muffle his yelling. "I thought I only had the one thing! This is... I don't even know how many things this is!"

Reaching for his hand again, Kagami squeezed it reassuringly. Back straightening as his grip turned out stronger than she expected.

He peeked at her through the splayed fingers covering his red face. Breath speeding up. "I... I don't..."

"You don't have to say anything. I know it is not easy to come to terms with."

Nodding gratefully, Adrien slowly took his hand away from his face. Taking deep breaths.

Kagami relaxed as Adrien did the same. This wasn't what she was expecting. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Turns out, Kagami had been aiming at the wrong target too.

Adrien's grip eased as he looked up at Kagami. That was... certainly a lot. But Kagami hadn't turned away from him. Only a handful of people had ever seen him so vulnerable. And two of them preferred to pretend otherwise. But Kagami didn't pretend. And Adrien admired her for it. He smiled, wobbly and honest.

"Thanks... Ryuko."

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

In case it's unclear the two people Adrien's talking about are Gabriel and Nathalie.

*Rewatches Frozer (again) for this fic* ... If my friend fell and they said they didn't feel well I'd check up on them too. IDK why the the fandom- I mean, Plagg, is so hung up on that part.

I have taken liberties with the production of Camembert for this fic. Please, forgive my transgressions cheese enthusiasts.

@adrienaugust

[a-crimson-lion]

That new analysis is great, and I haven't even read that chapter! Personally, while I still dislike Bakugo, the things I'm hearing about 284 actually sound good to me--I feel like not only are his stans being annoying about it though, but those who dislike him *might* be being a little hard on him? Not YOU, of course Crimson, you did a great job keeping your analysis balanced, but I've been seeing people still hoping he dies and that doesn't feel right to me (1/2)

(2/2) Like it's not perfect, but he's getting there, y'know? If it's true, and he really is starting to see that he was an ass, I'm willing to finally give him a chance. I agree though that he also has to finally acknowledge the impact this had on Deku.

The State of the Fandom: Katsuki Bakugo

‘Kay, gotta keep this short so I don’t write another 4K essay out of nowhere. (Foreshadowing)

So first off, if you have no idea what @cjcroen1393 is talking about, check out the analysis here.

Second off, if you still haven’t read Chapter 284, check out the official VIZ translation here. New chapters are only free for the first three weeks after their debut, so make like an Ochako and get them savings!

Alright, now back to the subject at hand...

First off, while I appreciate the flattery, if I’m being completely honest, I’m still sort of skeptical because we just got Chapter 284, y’know? I wanna hold my breath, but I’ve already been through Bakugo’s Start Line, the Final Exams, and the Remedial Course Arc, three concrete moments that should have showcased Katsuki’s development and either came with conflicting results or were later debunked (Katsuki sticking to his original bull-headed strategy, Katsuki only working with Izuku as a last resort after stating he’d rather lose earlier, Katsuki saying not to look down on others and then looking down on the rest of UA due to a problem he inadvertently contributed to). But yeah, I’ll stick around and see what happens.

Honestly, I feel like 284 has a lot of opinions focused around Katsuki when you’re looking at him specifically. And no, I’m not talking about a direct AntiBaku vs BakuStan thing, that’s not what this is about. I can’t speak for all AntiBakus, obviously, but from the discourse I’ve seen, we’re all currently split into one of three categories:

Cautiously optimistic, willing to see how things play out.

Perpetually exhausted, nothing Katsuki says or does will make him worthy of atonement or redemption.

Kill him with fire, burn him at the steak, he’s worn out his usefulness.

I’m stuck between the first two categories, and the only reason I’m not in the third category (aside from Katsuki’s basic human right to live) is this:

A dead person can’t change. A dead person can’t suffer. Take that as you will.

And that’s not even discussing how the entire fandom is looking at things. Again, from what I’ve seen, the opinions split into three or four categories:

Look how far he’s come! (←The majority of fandom.)

Look how far he has to go… (←I am here. And maybe some AntiBakus.)

He AlWaYs CaReD!1! (←Cease your existence.)

I want to believe, but the narrative has taught me otherwise. (←The majority of AntiBakus.)

[‘Kay, this is where I’m cutting it off. Click “Read More” if you’re still awake.]

I’ve already said my piece on why the “HAC” take fills me with righteous fury, but let me see if I can explain it better with an analogy:

Let’s pretend for the moment that you’re a gold miner. Obviously, you’re looking for gold.

Your boss has you sent down into the mines to head into one of the more… frustrating caverns. Figuring you have nothing better to do, you get to work.

As you get into picking away at the rock in the search for gold, it takes you hours. And eventually, you stop striking bits and pieces and find a solid chunk of gold ore.

Now, your response can vary based on which of the categories you’re in.

If you’re in the “He’s come so far” camp, you are very excited to find this piece of gold.

If you’re with me in the “He’s still got a ways to go” camp, you remember that this chunk of gold ore doesn’t meet the quota. You still gotta dig.

And if you’re in the “HAC” camp, it’s essentially the same as walking back to the cavern entrance, digging down, and finding the quota of all the gold you need.

Sure, it seems like a good deal for most people, but you just wasted a long time getting to one good chunk when you could have dug down from the start. So what was the point of digging your own tunnel to begin with? That’s several hours, or even days of your life, you’re never getting back, because the cavern decided to be cheeky.

(Also, if you were in the "I don't wanna get my hopes up" camp, you've been digging through a pyrite vein and are skeptical.)

I hope that makes sense.

If it doesn’t, essentially the “HAC” line of thought feels cheap because it makes it seem like Katsuki was being needlessly extra from the start. If he always cared, why does he have to suicide bait? (Yeah I know y’all hear that too much but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.) If he always cared, why does he have to even risk almost killing Izuku in the Battle Trial? If he always cared, why does he almost consider losing in the Final Exams? It just opens up a lot of holes.

I’m not gonna tell you to not be a fan of Katsuki or to not like him, because that isn’t realistic. Hell, if I shouldn’t have to justify why I don’t like him, you guys certainly don’t have to justify the opposite. But there has to be a sort of awareness that comes with either territory.

Because whether you like it or not, Katsuki HATED Izuku from Ch. 1 to getting kidnapped.

He saw Izuku as an OBSTACLE from Deku vs Kacchan 2 all the way to the OFA meeting in Ch. 257.

...and right now, Katsuki is finally, FINALLY recognizing Izuku as a person. A person who is in real f***ing danger and can’t bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. The extent remains to be seen, but what Hori has set up so far is really promising.

But that’s the thing: we’re still in the setup phase. I talked about this before in my last post, but right now we’re only in the third phase of Katsuki’s attitude. The “What The F*** Is Your Existence” phase lasted 116 chapters. The “I Can’t Let You Get Ahead Of Me” phase lasted 141 chapters. And the current phase, the “Why Don’t You Care About Yourself” phase, has only been going on for 27 or so chapters. And Katsuki only recently acknowledged that he bullied Izuku in a flashback somewhere in that time frame.

And the thing is, this doesn’t absolve Katsuki of anything. I still firmly believe Katsuki was being legitimate when he was talking about hunting down Tomura and using Izuku as bait, because that competitive side of him is DYING, not DEAD. And Katsuki still has yet to address the issue in his relationship with Izuku beyond internal and external monologues to people who are decidedly not Izuku, though there’s a high chance of that changing in Chapter 285. And the thing is, all Katsuki recognized is that Izuku’s inherent selflessness made him uneasy, and that was the main reason he bullied him. He still has yet to realize that he is a direct contributor to Izuku’s selflessness being warped into hardcore martyrdom. In his acts of beating Izuku, he lessened his self-worth and thus, made him believe his life was worth giving up. We still got stepping stones to cross, and while Katsuki’s making progress, he’s not across the creek yet.

...and while I’ve personally given up all hope of viewing Katsuki’s redemption in a satisfying light, I am hoping that Hori gets it right for the rest of you.

Thanks for reading.

-Crimson Lion (22 September 2020)

[sour-heart-treats]

leek in a duel but it goes horribly wrong

"Ah, so the heir finally decides to show his face again!" A green-haired samurai playfully jeered. From the branch he was perched upon, Leek gazed down at the heir to the House of Raspberry. He's been coming back to this very tree day after day, waiting for the heir's inevitable return. "What took you so long? For someone who goes on and on about being punctual, you certainly don't seem to have it yourself!" These teases were typical for the two of them, though it seems Mousse wasn't entirely planning on laughing with him. Leek's laugh faded with a tinge of awkwardness at the end.

Leaping down from his branch, the warrior inquisitively stared at the royal. The golden armor he adorned, the roll-like strands of hair that hung down, the red that glowed from his weapon... Huh. This was certainly an upgrade from the usual. And Leek had to admit, as much as he was for personality over aesthetics... He quite liked this new look. "Did you get promoted to be a part of the royal guard or somethin'? I've never seen you in such fancy attire before!" And yet, his attempts to start a conversation were met with nothing more than silent breaths from the heir. Leek paused and averted his gaze from Raspberry for a moment, before clearing his throat and approaching, still trying to keep a grin on his face. "C'mon now, Raspy, you don't have to give me the silent treatment, y'know! We're sparring buddies! Well, uh, more than that... But you know what I mean!"

Though he was approaching slowly, the samurai was stopped in his tracks as the blade was raised towards him. Backtracking a few steps, Leek surveyed his partner (in battle)'s expression. It was stolid even for Mousse's standards, to say the least. "You mad?" The green onion inquired, taking ahold of the blade always kept by his side. "If you need to blow off some steam with a battle, you can just tell me! Gotta be honest and open if we're gonna be as close as we are, yea?" With his blade unsheathing, Leek held it next to the heir's, the smile becoming somewhat shakey. "I know you get quiet when you're angry... Either that or you yell your head off... So let's help you out with that, huh?"

"The only one who will have their head off will be you, unworthy heir."

"Huh-?"

And thus the two locked blades. Leek immediately pushed back, using his swiftness to his advantage and gaining height with a quick grab and swing of a branch. "What was that about?!" He blurted in mild shock, staring down at the royal who stared back with no visible expression and a readied blade. "We always have a count-off! You can't just- Augh-!"

There wasn't much time to react, much less than before! Leek ducked down, narrowly avoiding a jumping strike from Mousse. He nearly lost balance on his branch, which didn't help that the guardsman seemed to have just as much experience with the forest as he did. Jumping from one tree limb to another, Leek was narrowly avoiding perilous falls and equally dangerous strikes. Though the samurai wasn't well versed in all the places that were fatal to strike, he had a despairing feeling that those places were exactly where Mousse was aiming for! And that red trail he left with each moment didn't bode well in Leek's mind, either!

"What is going on- What is going on with you?!" He desperately wished for an answer, though upon hearing a crack in the branch below him, any answer would have been drowned out by the screaming the questioner gave. Sure, there was another branch to latch onto and swing away from another attack with, but playing the dodgy and defensive wasn't going to last him forever. "Please, Raspy, you can't just leave me in silence! Isn't that something with your knightly honor code or whatever it is?!" Leek took in a quick breath, locking blades with the assailant and praying that he'd have enough balance to keep himself from falling back.

These prayers, with a flash of red across the warrior's vision, would not be answered.

Leek fell back, losing grip on his sword as his body tumbled down from the perch he had, hitting a few others that would jab into his body on the way to the ground. The grass crunched beneath him as his body fell with a heavy thud and a few cracks. Agh... How many bones had he broken just then? The stinging pain that jolted through him didn't dull, but only grew as his body tensed in response to the sounds of more grass being trampled upon by Mousse. He raised his gaze, hissing and silently grunting at the pain that continued to shoot through his nerves. "Why..." he began, gaze narrowing at the other. The haze of red hadn't left, which didn't help his sight of the other... Who didn't seem intent on looking back? "Why are you being so... So aggressive?! I know you- you like winning, yea, but this is too far- even for you...!"

"It is how one must be to proclaim dominance in the realm of royalty. Not even love will persevere past the force of pure rage."

"I don't... I don't understand, Raspy... What do you mea-"

A deft slice of a blade through flesh left Leek's voice unable to continue. Vocal cords severed, all he could do was choke on his own words... And the bright red fluid that came through such grievous injury. And though such a sight was one to horrify many, the heir to the House of Raspberry... Smiled. Starting small, but ever-growing, much akin to the glow of their blade amid the darkening forest atmosphere. "Perhaps if you were not a part of some league of power, things wouldn't have come to this... And yet, here we are..." Mousse spoke lowly, and though his smile remained, pinprick tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. Regretful? Remorseful? Whatever they were, they stopped nothing.

In the silent breeze of the forest, the metallic showing of a tainted weapon once again cut through a victim. Accompanied by a quiet thud of lifelessness, the body before Mousse finally left the mortal coil it had clung onto. It was with a shaking breath that the heir turned himself away from the corpse of Leek, his cheeks beginning to ache from being forced into such an uncontrollable grin.

"...Blessed be to the most powerful house in all of Earthbread."

[authorbarbie]

Movement

Summary: Poe interrupts your Jedi training session to teach a little lesson of his own.

Your lightsaber swung through the air in a series of practised motions, the familiar hum permeating the silence along with your controlled breaths. A light sheen of sweat coated the back of your neck, matting the loose strands of hair that had managed to escape your braid to your skin. With a grunt of exertion, you turned your body into the next swing, stopping the bright blade short just before it could cut through your intended target— an old, beaten up punching bag.

As you breathed heavily and quickly considered your next move, your thoughts were cut short by the sound of loud applause. You deactivated your saber at the noise, straightening up and turning towards the source.

"Thought I'd find you here." Poe stood at the entrance of the Resistance's training area — clearly ready to workout himself for he was dressed in plain sweats and a raggedy, sleeveless shirt —, a bottle of water tucked safely under his arm to free up his hands.

"How?"

"It's raining outside. You hate training in the rain." A charming grin lit up his face, his eyes swimming with mirth. "Please, don't stop on my account."

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't interrupted," you said, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow and taking the interference as a chance to take a sip from your own water.

"Oof," Poe stumbled back as if wounded, a hand pressed to his chest. "I forgot how brazen you get when you’re in the zone."

You rolled your eyes in response, fighting hard to keep the smile from your face. Poe clearly took note as his own grin only widened. He walked over to the benches that lined the wall of the room, setting his things down next to your own and pulling a roll of boxing wrap from his pocket.

“You wanna go a few rounds?" he asked, nodding towards his hands which he was currently securing with a complicated pattern of wrap.

"I think I'll stick with this for now," you shrugged, lifting your lightsaber's hilt for reference. Poe hummed noncommittally and you squinted your eyes in suspicion. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, innocently.

"That little 'hm'," you told him, lowering your voice to mimic the noise he'd made.

Poe let out a short, surprised laugh as he finished wrapping his hands up. "It was nothing, sweetheart... I just think you could stand to do a little hand-to-hand every now and then. You might be getting rusty."

"Why would I need that when I have my saber?"

"Because you might not have it all the time," he stated simply. "What if... I don't know, something happens and it breaks? Or you're just not able to use it for whatever reason?"

"I'm trained in other weapons, too," you argued. "And the Force is—"

"Always with you, I know," Poe's eyes rolled teasingly. "Just humour me."

"Well... What do you want me to do?"

"Look, you know I love when you get all"— Poe mimed holding a lightsaber and began to swing back and forth as he had seen you do so many times, making whooshing noises for extra impact— "hot Jedi and everything. But I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you kept your other skills sharp."

You blinked. "Did you just call me hot?"

Poe sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "You're missing the point."

"I like this new point better," you joked and Poe fixed you with an unimpressed look in return. “Well, have you brought these same concerns to Rey?”

"Rey is... Rey," he said, haltingly.

"An astute observation," was your flat response.

"You know what I mean," he huffed, raising a hand to trail it through his hair in frustration and causing a curl to fall over his eyes. Your hand twitched as you fought the urge to reach out and brush it back. "Rey is my friend and I care for her, but you're, y'know... you."

Your heart sped up at the implication of his words, almost making it difficult for you to focus. Clearing your throat, you glanced around the room so that you could gather your thoughts. "Fine." Your eyes met his again. "You want to spar? Let's go."

"How long has it been since you last trained without your... Force-ness?"

Snorting back a proper laugh, you gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. "I don't know... Guess it's been a while."

There was a short pause as Poe considered his options. "Maybe we should practice technique first."

●  ●  ●

And that was how you ended up back in front of the punching bag, reluctantly sans your saber, with your hands tightly but messily wrapped in boxing tape; Poe had offered to help but you had gently slapped his hand away and insisted you could do it yourself. It was only after realising that you had forgotten entirely how to apply the wrap properly that you resorted to sneaking subtle glances at Poe's hands in an attempt to replicate his.

"Okay," Poe said, standing to the side with his arms crossed. "Show me how you punch."

You held back the retort of 'On the bag or on you?' and instead followed his instructions, curling your hand into a fist and giving it your best shot. The bag swung back from the impact and Poe reached out to steady it.

"Not bad," he said in a tone that implied the complete opposite. He must have noticed the slight furrowing of your brows for he was quick to placate you. "Hey, I mean it. You've certainly got the strength down. There's just a few things you need to fix."

"Like what?"

"Well, the bag shouldn't really swing after you hit it," he said, moving closer to the bag. You took the hint, stepping out of the way to give him enough space. "You gotta hit the bag, don't push it. When you do a push punch, you're basically just trying to shove your hand through the target. Watch."

Poe's hand shot forward to hit the bag. Sure enough, it swung back wildly as it had with you and he reached out to bring it back into position again.

"Now, a snap punch means letting your fist snap back to you after you strike, to minimise how long you stay in your target's space. The whole reason it snaps back is because you let the impact rebound your hand back to you, not because you pull it away yourself. It shouldn't move the bag as much, and it helps you punch harder and faster, while using way less energy."

In a flourish, he struck the bag again, causing it to jump in place but not swing. His hand was back in position before you could blink.

You nodded slowly. "I... think I get it?"

"Go ahead."

Taking a breath, you retook your spot in front of the bag once more. You shook your hands out for a moment before they curled back into fists and your dominant hand snapped forward to hit the bag.

"That's it!" Poe smiled proudly as he watched the bag stay in place.

"Thanks," you smiled bashfully and tucked a loose strand of hair out of your face.

"Another pointer is that you should stand far enough away that you can't reach the bag without rotating your hips, but you also have to stand close enough to the bag so, if you do rotate your hips, you're still able to hit it."

"Uh," you began, hesitantly. "Say that again?"

Poe chuckled and held up his hands. "Sorry, I'm probably going too fast."

"No," you told him with a shake of your head, "it's not that. It's just... How am I able to study so many complicated Jedi texts but I can't even keep up with how to punch something properly?"

"Hey, you're doing great. It's a lot to remember," he said earnestly. "So let's try it a different way."

Your shoulders tensed slightly when he moved to stand behind you, so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Tentatively, you forced yourself to relax and readjusted your position into what you thought Poe wanted.

"Almost," Poe said, gently knocking your feet further apart with his own. "Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and bend your knees a little; it'll help your balance... Yeah, that's good."

You nodded. "Okay. Now what?"

"Now move your arms in just a little." He reached out, placing a hand on each of your arms and pushing them in gently. "Alright, you ready to go back to what I was saying before?"

"I think so."

"Okay. The full punch motion comes from turning your hips, right? When you start the punch, try pivoting your back foot on its ball and push your body forward," Poe's hand came to rest on the shoulder of your dominant arm and the other moved to your opposite hip. You swallowed hard at the contact but tried to stay focused. "You don’t want to exaggerate and throw yourself off balance, but you should feel your lower body pushing your arm forward. When you push off your foot, turn your hips and extend your arm towards the target." He gently pushed back on your hip while simultaneously pushing your shoulder forward to give you an idea of what he meant.

Although you were trying your very best to stay on goal, it was getting harder and harder which each second he spent so close to you. The familiar smell of engine oil and aftershave mixed with the warmth of his skin on yours was overwhelming your senses. You just barely managed to catch the end of his explanation before he could realise you had become distracted.

"Also, don’t overextend into the punch," he'd been saying. "You want to feel in control and balanced at all times. If you fall forward, you’ll put yourself in a vulnerable position."

His hands released you as he stepped out of your way, allowing you to put his instructions into practise. You took all of his words into account, attempting the aforementioned snap punch again, but while shifting your weight onto your dominant foot and turning your hips into the swing. The grin that took over his lips when you were successful made your stomach flutter.

Poe had you practise the same motion over and over (with some minor variations and adjustments) for around an extra half hour before he decided you had done enough. "Okay, I think it's safe to say you've got that down. You ready for that sparring session now?"

"Uh," you heaved out a deep breath, fresh sweat coating your skin. "Totally."

"Take a minute to catch your breath first," Poe chuckled, taking one of your hands in his hold and fixing the boxing wrap that you had barely noticed had begun to loosen. As he worked swiftly and gently, you suddenly decided that sparring sounded like a great idea if it meant his hands wouldn't be touching you in such tender ways that made your thoughts jumble and your chest tighten oddly.

All too soon, you found yourself facing him on a floor of safety mats, one of you looking significantly more relaxed than the other.

"Don't look so nervous," Poe told you, giving your arm a playful shove. "I won't hurt you, little miss Jedi."

You decided in that split second to use his arrogance against him and your hand was soon springing forward, aiming for somewhere on his stomach. Somehow, he had anticipated your move and his arm quickly shot up to block you, his brow quirking challengingly. An unspoken agreement passed between you then and before you knew it, the two of you were trading blows; weak enough so as to not actually hurt one another but strong enough to still be able to determine a winner.

On more than one occasion, Poe had come less than a hair's breadth away from knocking you off balance which only served to spur him on further, and you were well aware that you were close to losing. So you chose to do something you knew Poe couldn't.

The next time his hand came close to making contact, you let the Force flow through your body, allowing it to help you leap off your feet and land steadily behind him. Poe stumbled forward, confusion etching his face when he noticed you were no longer there. Quickly, he spun on the spot and pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"You can't use the Force!" he whined. "That's totally cheating!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise using my natural advantages was off limits," you smiled smugly.

Poe's face changed instantly; the pout he was sporting soon shifted into the beginnings of a smirk and while you weren't sure what he was thinking, you had a strong feeling that you were in trouble. This feeling only strengthened when Poe took an extra step towards you and you realised that if you shifted your head up just a fraction, your noses would be touching. 

"What are you doing?" you asked, voice quiet.

"If you get to use your natural advantages, so do I, sweetheart," he replied.

Kriff.

Had his voice always been so deep? You suddenly couldn't quite remember. And how was it fair that the both of you were covered in sweat, chests rising and falling rapidly to control your breathing, but he still managed to pull it off somehow while you were left looking like you'd just run a 3 hour long marathon? His curls were stuck to his forehead, his muscles prominent in the tattered shirt he'd decided to wear, — Why did he have to choose that shirt? — and when his hands moved to rest on your waist, you swore the look in his eyes was dangerous.

"I-I don't..." 

"What's wrong? Loth-cat got your tongue?" His grip on you tightened a little. "You had so much to say earlier." 

Each time you took a breath in, your chest brushed lightly against his. The touch stoked a fire within you (one that had been burning since you'd met the pilot) and spread its warmth straight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You wondered if he felt the same burning inside. Flirting wasn't something that was uncommon between the two of you; Poe was a natural charmer and you could dish it out just as well as you could take it, but this felt... different.

Was he playing on your attraction towards him just to win? No... You refused to believe that. While Poe could be overly cocky, he wasn't cruel. He was never cruel.

Yet, as the two of you stood there, Poe hesitantly moving to close the small gap, your body reacted before your brain did...

And knocked him on his ass.

He fell to the ground with a grunt, his back hitting the mat and cushioning the impact. Your eyes widened and you brought your hand to cover your mouth in shock.

"I am so sor— whoa!"

Poe's foot hooked around your ankle and gave a tug, your body being thrown off balance and ending up half sprawled over his. You supposed this was karma.

With the wind knocked out of you, you gave yourself a moment to recover, and that's when you noticed Poe's body was shaking with laughter. Lifting your head, you narrowed your eyes at him. 

"What the hell, Dameron?" 

"If you wanted me underneath you so bad, you could've just asked," he grinned through his chuckling.

"Oh my— You are the worst!" 

Throwing your leg over his waist, you lifted yourself up to straddle him, giving yourself a better position to let your hand slap his chest as you chastised his childishness. Poe's laughter only grew, gripping your wrist to stop your teasing attacks. 

"Y’know what? Maybe next time, I should be the teacher," you suggested, your own grin forming as you looked down at him. "You ever wanted to learn how to use a Lightsaber?"

The excitement in his eyes gave you your answer before his voice did. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe," you shrugged casually. "If you decide to be nice to me for once."

"Alright, alright," Poe's agreed. His thumb brushed against the skin of your wrist as he spoke and his eyes softened. "How about we get washed up and grab something to eat later? My treat."

You pretended to think about the offer for a minute, a dramatic sigh following after. “I guess that's a start..."

"Good," Poe smiled. "I—"

A sequence of familiar beeps and whirls abruptly interrupted your little conversation, both your heads snapping towards the door where BB-8 stood with a smug Finn and an amused Rey, clearly just back from their date. (They had pointedly called it a ’trip’ but you knew better.) 

"Oh," Poe said, awkwardly. "Hey, guys."

Finn's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's what you're settling on; 'hey guys'?"

"Admittedly, you could've chosen something better," you told him.

"Whose side are you on here?" Poe asked you grumpily as Rey chimed in.

"I feel like a lot has happened since we left,” she said while giving you a knowing look. “Did we miss something?"

"Not at all!" You forced yourself to your feet and cleared your throat, quickly gathering up your things. "Actually, I should probably go clean up."

"Why?" Finn asked teasingly with a playful wink. "Got a hot date?"

You shot Poe a brief look over your shoulder as you headed towards the exit, noting how he still lay on the ground with a cheesy grin on his lips.

"Actually... Yeah."

[halfgclden]

Like Beef? | Gene&Wyatt

summary: dinner is served! dessert too (〃＞＿＜;〃)

date: February 16th, 2021

It was a decision that took Gene too long to make, in his opinion, but changing from his twin swords; a weapon built for dexterity and balance, to a single trident; a weapon that favored brute strength, turned out to be a good one. He took to his new weapon much more easily than he did the blades, and he didn’t have to worry about his left side the whole time. Despite this apparent natural inclination, Gene felt the need to catch up on practice, since he could have been using it the whole time. Once in the main part of the arena, he transformed his weapon from a piece of cutlery to a full-sized trident, and stood to the side, where people gathered when they needed a partner to spar with.

Wyatt had always favored the sword. Although his preference for the style of blade had changed over the years, he was the most proficient with the broadsword. Being at home back in the arena as of lately, today was no different. He had warmed up already and was also slightly itching for a fight. Upon seeing Gene, he surveyed his options and wondered if anyone else was going to take the other on. When he realized he wanted to be the one, Wyatt headed over. "Hey Gene," He called out. "You tryna put that trident to good use?" He asked and casually hung his hands on his sword in its hilt and his opposite hip.

Gene saw as Wyatt approached, though he tried adamantly to ignore the fact that he was in the same vicinity as him. He twisted his trident in his hand, the shaft pressed against the ground of the arena as he turned finally, locking eyes with his opponent. The last time that Wyatt and Gene had spoken, Gene had made it clear that Wyatt should not speak to him unless he was looking for a fight, and he supposed that this counted. His jaw set, he raised his chin at Wyatt, trying to seem like he was looking down at him despite the fact that the other man was taller. “Sure. You tryna get your ass kicked?”

Wyatt scoffed, shook his head and let out a little chuckle. "Yeah, I want you to try your hardest," He claimed while putting his hand on the hilt of his broadsword and unsheathing it in all its glory. "Y'know, really show me what you got, bud," He gestured his head at Gene and his trident to non-verbally usher him out more into a more appropriate place to spar in the arena. "And I won’t go easy on you either." He clarified.

Gene gripped his trident tightly as Wyatt laughed. He bit back a rush of anger, managing to convince himself not to lunge at Wyatt right there. “Don’t try this mentoring shit, I’m not into it.” He scowled and made his way to a clear space for them to spar. “And you better. I don’t want you saying I beat you because you went easy on me.” He turned and planted his feet, trying to relax his jaw. “Ready?”

Wyatt shook his head, scoffed at the mentoring remark but remained with a smirk. Once in a clear space, he relaxed his arm but kept his grip tight on the sword. With the assumption that Gene was most likely going strike first, he was ready to fend off an attack and serve up a counter-attack when needed. His mind already began shooting off in the different directions this spar could take. "Always ready," He claimed. "Come and get it." He taunted.

Gene grit his teeth as he watched Wyatt. There was something about the other man's confidence that he used to enjoy, but now just bothered him as he watched him move. Before Wyatt could finish his taunt, Gene was already lashing out at him, lunging forward with his trident, straight for Wyatt's side. It was an obvious move, but Gene felt like if he was fast enough, he could land a hit.

With his sword at the ready, Wyatt's body reacted like the fine-tuned machine he'd like to think he had trained it into over the years. It might've not been the exact case because, ever since he had taken time away from camp, he felt like he lost his some of his edge. Gene's move was obvious but it landed and Wyatt gritted his teeth at the sharp pain. He quickly used his sword to push Gene's trident away. "Aye, someone's been practicing hard, huh?" He wore a more serious expression but he barely finished before he swung low as his next move.

“Shut up,” Gene muttered through grit teeth. Distracted, Wyatt’s sword hit his leg easily, and he cursed as he took a step back. He reassessed before faking left and then striking right, going for Wyatt’s left side, where his defenses would be lowered. “Practice ain’t all it,” he said in a low voice despite protesting to Wyatt speaking before. “I got the tenacity.”

Wyatt began walking to the right, trying to throw him off and keep moving at the same time. It was a questionable move that, if he moved a second later, he would have been hit harder. But it only cost him a quick sharp pain from Gene's well thought out attack to his defenseless side. He barely reacted and began to feel annoyed that the other had managed to land his blows this quick. "But I got the experience," Wyatt retorted before assessing his options and choosing one in almost a split second. "And I got all day." He launched another slice through the air aimed at Gene's right side.

Gene grunted as Wyatt connected again, hitting his armor, but the blow was going to leave him bruised, he was sure. “Whatever,” he muttered, the time for talking over as the two launched into their attacks. It was clear that Wyatt had the upper hand– it only made sense. Gene had been training for months and Wyatt for years, not to mention the fact that the older man was a son of the god of war. Gene could feel that he was being bested, but still, he tried to keep up, sweating as he launched attack after attack at Wyatt, rolling with everything thrown at him. Gene had slowed down, wiping sweat from his brow as he waited for the next attack, on the defense now. He found it too humiliating to tap out after talking big to his opponent, and he took pause to watch his movements.

Wyatt had to admit that Gene was talented. So much so that Wyatt had also broken a sweat during their spar. The back and forth of a well-matched spar was familiar to him but Gene's moves were fresh. He liked how they both came at it in a different way. Feeling like he had the upper hand, he was eager to see this through. He let the pause settle but not for long because he faked right only to swing hard at Gene's left side.

The hit sent Gene down. Not enough to send him flat on his back, but enough to stumble and drop down. Though tap out or pass out was a more growing practice, it was clear that if this was life or death, Wyatt had already won. His eyes burning— from sweat, he swore, Gene stared up at Wyatt defiantly. He grit his teeth and spun his trident around to try and sweep at his ankles with the non-sharp end. Though he lacked the momentum to fully sweep him over, he figured a swollen ankle might at least make him feel better.

Wyatt was proud that he'd gotten Gene to drop down. He admired the tenacity in the younger opponent and was somewhat proud of Gene too. The fight was good and made his blood pump. He should've seen the other's next move coming but, he didn't. Wyatt's ankle had been struck by Gene's trident and it made him stagger and curse to himself. He bit back the pain and, with his good ankle, he lead with that leg and went to push Gene's trident away. He then put the point of his sword to align in the center of Gene's chest. "Do you tap out yet?" He asked but sounded serious.

Gene’s face was hot with shame and anger, and pride made him lean up so the sword was against him. However, he didn’t have a death wish, and though he was rash and prideful, he had some sense about him. “You gonna kill me if I don’t or what?”

Gene's response made Wyatt laugh for some reason. "Nah, bud." He shook his head and then pulled the sword away. He held it down by his side because he figured the other was going to give in. "You've got skills, I won't lie." Wyatt confessed with a little shrug.

The reply only made Gene angrier. His face hot with rage and shame at the laughter, he pushed himself up and brushed himself off, already starting to strip off the pieces of leather armor. "Fuck, whatever." He clenched a fist around the shaft of his trident, knuckles white. "Stop acting like we're friends. We're not. I don't give a fuck if you think I have skills. You've got..." If he said that Wyatt had no skills, that was just insulting himself, and he fumed as he tried to think of something. "Fuck, whatever," he repeated, turning away from Wyatt.

After watching Gene remove his armor, Wyatt put it together that the fight had indeed come to an end. He blinked as he remained standing and took Gene's words in stride. He nodded, silently, and then slid his sword back into the sheath at his side. "You make me feel like I gotta apologise for somethin' here, man." Wyatt observed with a little scoff. He could see the similarities between the two of them. "...What did you expect?" He posed as a question, but kept talking without much of a pause. "You probably could've taken me if you didn't let yourself get so pressed. Trust me, it's not worth it." He stated with another scoff and a shake of his head.

Gene scowled. "God, you're fuckin' annoying." He huffed, tapping his trident against the ground so it shrank, which made him feel much less like jutting the staff end of it into Wyatt's leg. "What I expect is for you to stop actin' like you're my personal trainer or some shit. You wanna give someone a pep talk so badly, go give it to one of your teenage girls."

"—Are you fucking kidding me, man?" Wyatt rubbed his hands together and then  rubbed one against his jaw. Maybe he wanted to control his anger, but it was becoming obvious that Gene had actually managed to get under Wyatt's skin. He started moving, pacing of some sorts. He still felt amped up from their spar. "I get that you feel some type of brotherly duty, but you gotta get over it." He stated. "I'm trying to be a good guy here. There's no reason why we shouldn't be on good terms, bro."

"Oh, that got you, huh?" Gene grinned at Wyatt, though it was malice rather than mirth in his eyes. Wyatt had a good few inches on him, but that didn't stop him from straightening up taller and raising his chin as he moved into his space once more. "Ey, don't call me bro. You know who does that? My friends, and my fuckin' sister." He resisted the urge to shove Wyatt's chest, but didn't move away as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "We're not on good terms cause I don't like you, kay? So, stay the fuck away unless you like scrap. Talk to me again and I'll kick your ass."

Wyatt stepped closer and more into Gene's space. It wasn't a friendly reaction, especially compared to Wyatt's previous attempts to make nice. By the way Gene held his expression, Wyatt figured this was really what Gene wanted to accomplish. They truly weren't on the same side, no matter how hard Wyatt had been trying. When sparring didn't work, he didn't know what else to do. "You better get real good at avoiding me then. Try and kick my ass, and you'll just get an instant replay." He explained; talking about the fact that he'd just won the spar. "I don't want to fight, but I'll just win again, man."

Gene ran his tongue over his teeth again and looked away as he laughed, shaking his head. Part of him respected Wyatt more from his reply, but that didn't stop the fact that he'd talked a bit game, and he had every intention of putting his money where his mouth was. "Should've stopped talking." He swung for Wyatt's face.

Even if Wyatt hadn't saw the punch coming, he felt like it was going to happen. With the way the two were going head-to-head with their verbal low blows, it was no surprise that they ended up fighting again. Gene's fist made contact but Wyatt was already soaked with sweat and adrenaline. He bounced back quickly and gripped Gene's shirt so that he could swing a punch at the other male's jaw in retaliation.

The hit hurt, and Gene’s jaw was already swelling from the blow, but he was hardly ready to stop. The fight was only going to end with one of them on the floor, that much was already clear. From where Wyatt held his shirt, Gene shifted closer and then turned so he could get more momentum on his next blow to his opponent’s chest.

Wyatt was hit in the chest. This only made him loosen his grip on Gene, but his anger still burnt hot. He staggered, but Gene's words had pushed the wrong buttons. Using that hand to line up another shot, he launched a punch at Gene's stomach this time.

Before he knew it, Gene was doubled over, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He used his position to wrap his arms around Wyatt’s middle, and tried to use the momentum to send them both to the ground.

Wyatt fought against it but was soon brought to the ground. He didn't go down without taking Gene down with him though and that's where he tried to continue their scrap.

Gene hit the ground hard, but scrambled to his hands and knees, raising his fist so he could send it down on Wyatt’s face again, but it made no connection. He was being pulled away, and struggled against the person with their arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Ge-e-ene!” Terence bleated, trying to shake some sense into his friend. “What in Hades are you doing? This is for spars, not a place to duke it out.” 

As he was chided, Gene stopped struggling, and, back on his feet once more, he looked between Wyatt and his satyr friend. He let out a sound of discontent and turned to walk away, not touching any part of himself to show that he was sore, unwilling to give Wyatt the satisfaction.

Wyatt pulled himself up from the ground and he too tried to not rub the parts that Gene had hit. While Gene chose to walk away, Wyatt clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm down. With a surge of annoyance, he looked at Terence. "He was asking for it." He claimed and finally broke away with a frustrated huff and headed in the other direction, away from Gene.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Deacon St. John || Ambush

A/n: By the way, I do have a Wattpad where you’ll find these stories, too. I literally just copy these from my drafts and post them here. Hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

***** Prompt: You and Deacon have been happily married for five years. Even when all hell broke loose, your love for one another remained intact. One day while on a supply run, the two of you are ambushed by a group of marauders. *****

~3rd Person POV~

"So, what's the plan?" (Y/n) questioned, waiting patiently on Deacon's bike as he filled the tank with gas. 

"Get in, get out. It's just a normal supply run, (Y/n)," he said, placing the jerrycan down beside the barrels of gasoline.

"Remember what Tucker said the last time we visited the Hot Springs? Y'know, about all the marauder activity recently in Belknap and how all their supply routes were ambushed?"

Deacon took one of his wife's hands in his, entwining their fingers together. "You worry too much."

"You," she used her other hand to poke him on the cheek. "Don't worry enough. Someone's gotta make up for all your carelessness. And who would be a better candidate than the woman you married, huh? Even Boozer is as careless as you sometimes! I can't believe you both are still alive with all the crazy shit you've done in the past two years."

A smirk crept across Deacon's face as he released her hand and mounted the bike. "Pretty sure you're the reason why we're still alive. All that nagging keeps our asses in check."

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around his waist with a scoff. "Why does that sound like and insult and compliment combined?"

"'Cause it is." Deacon revved the engine of his motorcycle, his smile widening. "Better hold on tighter. We're not stopping until we reach Belknap."

"I just hope this place you have in mind hasn't been raided yet," (Y/n) said, tightening her grip on the front of his shirt.

"I hope so, too." Deacon took off down the dirt trail of O'Leary Mountain, leaving the safehouse and Boozer behind.

The beautiful scenery of the mountain was plagued with the occasional dead corpse on the side of the trail and the groans of Freaks echoing through the trees.

Through the dark tunnel connecting Cascade to Belknap, a few Swarmers had chased them as Deacon carefully weaved the motorcycle between the vehicles.

Safely through the tunnel, they passed a NERO checkpoint as they made their way to Marion Forks. (Y/n) looked around and spotted a small glint. Before she could question what it was, they both were knocked off the bike. The motorcycle scraped against the asphalt, creating sparks.

"Get 'em!" A man shouted. Several men and women emerged from the shrubbery aligned on the side of the highway with melee weapons raised in the air.

(Y/n) struggled as she tried to get to her feet and defend herself from the approaching marauders. A little ways down the road, she saw a truck heading straight for them. "Deacon," she called out weakly to her husband.

At the sound of her feeble voice, Deacon managed to get to his feet just as four marauders surrounded him. He whipped out his pistol, killing three of them in a flash. He turned to take out the last man, but a rush of pain in his gut knocked the air out of his lungs. Hunched over in pain and desperately gasping for air, he watched as the rustic truck pulled to a stop in between him and (Y/n).

Four more marauders jumped out of the rickety vehicle. (Y/n) grabbed the knife concealed in her boot and swung it, but one man grabbed her arm and knocked the blade out of her hand. She tried to punch him, but another adversary grabbed her other arm. She struggled against them as they dragged her to the truck while cackling at the top of their lungs. "Let go of me, you bastards!" Swinging her legs, (Y/n) desperately tried to kick them.

"Knock 'er out, Ben!" One of the men restraining her demanded.

A younger man walked over with a wooden bat in his grasp. He didn't hesitate to swing the weapon and knock (Y/n) unconscious. The two men hauled her body into the backseat of the truck with a victorious chant. The remaining marauders hopped into the vehicle, but one had managed to strike Deacon in the spine with a metal pipe before hopping into the bed.

The drifter's entire body ached and he could barely move from the abuse. He managed to lift his head from the ground as the man behind the wheel lowered the window and grinned down at him menacingly. "This is what you fucking get for killing my friends, drifter. You want your girl back? Just try. You'll be dead before you can set foot in our camp. Sayonara, ya bastard!"

Deacon helplessly watched the truck disappear in the same direction it came from. With slightly shaky limbs, he pushed himself off the ground and to his bike. The engine was smoking, but he had just enough scrap to repair it. "You sons of bitches just wait. I'll kill every last one of you," he growled under his breath as he hauled his aching body onto the motorcycle.

Not wasting a single minute, Deacon pursued the marauders. Once leaving Marion Forks, he easily spotted the fresh tire tracks in the dirt and followed as fast as his bike could go. Unfortunately, his pursuit was halted when he spotted a horde making its way down the road. Confused as to why the large group of Swarmers were out during the day, he turned his bike around and searched for a place to hide. He was ill-equipped to take down a horde and had no other choice but to wait until they passed by.

Deacon found some foliage to hide in and parked his bike on the side of the road. He hid in the shrubbery and watched as the horde slowly made its way past him.

It felt like an entire hour crawled by before every last Swarmer passed him and headed further down the road. With an annoyed sigh, Deacon returned to his bike and searched for the tire tracks. However, all traces of the vehicle had been cleansed from the ground by the footprints of the horde. Desperate to save his wife, he searched for anything that could help him track the marauders who took her. Morosely, there was nothing. Gritting his teeth, he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Dammit!"

<————————————<<<<<<<<<<<<<

It had been a few hours since (Y/n) was captured by marauders. She recognized the area as Bear Creek Hot Springs, which wasn't very far from Marion Forks, but it was hidden along the base of the northern mountain range. They had tossed her in a small, makeshift prison beside a house. She had regained consciousness a few minutes ago with a splitting headache and a thick, dried streak of blood down the side of her face where the bat made contact with her skull. Now, she was pacing around in circles like a caged tiger.

None of the marauders had come to check on (Y/n), which made her happy to some extent. By what she could hear from a few women chatting just a few feet from the prison, Deacon was the intended target. Their laughter filled the air before their voices grew distant.

Suddenly, the door to the prison was unlocked and a smirking man stood on the other side as it swung open. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes raked across her body and a disgusted look appeared on (Y/n)'s face. She backed away from him, glaring sharply. "The hell do you want?"

"Nothing. Just sizing up the goods," he chuckled darkly. When his eyes spotted the diamond ring on her left hand, he guffawed in amusement. "You're married to that bastard? Ha! You're married to a murderer, you know that, sweetheart?"

"First of all," (Y/n) snarled. "Don't you fucking dare call me "sweetheart". And second, he's not a murderer. Last I checked, the only murderers here are you morons. Guess idiots of a feather really do flock together."

"You're the moron for not knowing the definition of murder," he scoffed. "Let me tell you about all the shit that fucking drifter has done."

(Y/n) patted the back of her head as she listened to the marauder insult Deacon. She discovered a hairpin in her (h/c) hair and gripped it between her fingers tightly. She waited for the perfect moment, pretending to listen to the man as he ranted. The second he stepped towards her with his hands resting by his sides, she lunges forward and plunges the hairpin into his eye. He let out a bloodcurdling scream before losing his balance and falling to the ground, curling up into a ball. "Look at the bright side—you can start wearing an eyepatch. Heard they kinda look badass."

(Y/n) stepped over the marauder's body and exited the prison. Fortunately for her, there were no men or women around to hear his painful wails. She snuck around the camp, searching for a way to escape. The dirt muffled her footsteps as she stealthily made her way out of the camp. Knowing exactly where she was, the woman headed back to Marion Forks in hopes to find some shelter from the approaching darkness of the night and a safe place away from Freakers. She even prayed she would reunite with Deacon, but she had no idea her husband was heading in the opposite direction.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<<

"C'mon, Tuck. Someone must've seen something!" Deacon stalked after the old woman.

"Listen, Deek. I'm sorry for what happened to your wife, but no one knows where these assholes are camping out," Ada replied with a sigh. "You should know by now that people who are captured by marauders never return."

"If you think I'm gonna give up on (Y/n), you're fucking mistaken. She's my wife and I would do everything in my power to protect her. Someone in this damn camp must know something." Deacon left before Ada could respond and asked around the Hot Springs.

After stalking around the camp and asking around, Deacon stumbled upon Alkai. He placed his hands on the counter of the man's stall and leaned forward. "Problems aside, I know you've been on plenty of supply runs. And I know—"

Alkai interrupted the man before he could finish his sentence. "A few drifters arrived a couple days ago and reported spotting an ambush camp at Bear Creek Hot Springs. They said they were going to try and wipe them out, but they have yet to return."

"'Bout damn time someone told me something," Deacon sneered.

"You've got enough ammo to take down an entire camp of marauders?"

"Always do."

Deacon departed from the Hot Springs and headed north to Bear Creek as the moon rose into the sky, taking the place of the sun. It was dangerous at night, but the darkness would provide more cover for him to move through the ambush camp without being spotted.

Arriving at the camp, the drifter was shocked to find it was empty all except for two men. He crept closer to them, listening closely.

"Goddammit, Ben!" The man on the ground shouted as he covered his left eye.

"How the hell am I supposed to get it out?!" Ben yelled back. "Your eye is fucked!"

"No shit, Sherlock," the unnamed man grumbled.

Seeing as either man wasn't armed, Deacon grabbed his handgun and emerged from his hiding spot. He shoved the muzzle of the pistol into the back of Ben's head. "So you're Ben, huh? Heard your buddies shouting your name during the ambush."

Slowly, Ben stood up and stepped aside with his hands in the air. "H-Hey, listen, man. None of that shit was my idea! It was this asshole's plan!"

"I don't give a shit who's plan it was." Deacon pulled the trigger, a single bullet whizzing through the man's skull. "All I care about is killing you bunch of murderers and finding (Y/n)."

Stepping over the corpse, Deacon kneeled beside the man crumpled up on the ground. The object protruding from his eyes caused the drifter to smirk in amusement. "Pretty sure those don't go in your eye."

"Fuck off, drifter. That damn bitch of yours did this to me," he hissed.

"Never thought I would ever see someone use a hairpin as a weapon," Deacon guffawed. "(Y/n)'s just that resourceful."

The marauder on the ground grinned. "That fucking broad is gonna get what's coming to her. The entire camp went after her once they found out what she did."

Deacon's smirk morphed into a fierce glare. He grabbed the tip of the hairpin and tugged harshly, the marauder shrieking loudly form the rush of unbearable pain. "You gonna tell me where they went or am I gonna have to tear this hairpin out of your damn eye first?"

"M-Marion Forks!" The man wailed, his voice raspy from all the yelling.

The drifter released the hairpin and stood up. The man on the ground lifted his body slightly with a painful and confused expression. "You're not gonna shoot me?"

"No." Deacon holstered his firearm, stepping closer to the assailant. "I'm gonna slam that hairpin further into your skull." He stomped his foot directly on the hairpin, pushing it further into the marauder's eye. His shrill cries echoed throughout the camp, but he suddenly fell silent. The drifter didn't bother to check to see if the man was still alive, but he would succumb to his injury soon and perish.

When Deacon arrived in Marion Forks, he spotted the familiar white truck parked by the church. The center of town was crawling with marauders as they searched the buildings. He armed himself with his boot knife and crept around the town, taking down any marauders he could while searching for (Y/n).

"Come on out! We know you're here!" One woman yelled as she searched the gas station alongside a couple of her companions. Deacon circled around around the gas station, avoiding their line of sight and making his way across the street to Hungry Jim's. He jumped through a broken window and landed on the shards of glass. The small noise caused him to freeze and he heard something skittering behind the counter. Gripping his knife tightly, he snuck further into the restaurant, keeping his head low.

Rounding the counter, he spotted droplets of blood leading to the kitchen. Deacon followed the trail out the rear entrance of the restaurant and to a car located in the parking lot. Peering through the foggy window and into the backseat, he saw a figure laying down. Opening the door, he realized it was (Y/n). His heart raced as the sudden click of the door opening startled her and she bolted out the other door thinking he was a marauder. She fell out of the car and on the asphalt, small pebbles digging into her palms.

Deacon swiftly maneuvered to the other side of the vehicle to stop her from running. "Hey, hey, it's me." He squatted down in front of her, obscuring the only escape route she had. He grabbed her wrists in his hands and whispered gently to calm her down. "It's me, sweetheart."

(Y/n) inhaled a shaky breath as she registered Deacon's voice. "Oh, god, Deacon." The moment he released her wrists, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. "I thought you were one of them."

"You... stabbed a guy in the eye with a hairpin?" He questioned as he held her body flush against his his.

"Uh, yeah." (Y/n) pulled away slightly to meet Deacon's gaze. "A little gruesome, but it gave me the chance I needed to escape."

The sound of approaching footsteps startled the couple. Deacon was the first to act and dragged (Y/n) down to the ground to hide from the marauder. He held her in his arms, taking cover behind the car. They listened to the marauder approach the vehicle, but their footsteps suddenly stopped on the other side. "There's no one fucking here!" The marauder suddenly shouted.

"Keep lookin'! There's no way in hell she could've made it far," a woman yelled back.

The second the man turned and headed back towards the rear entrance of Hungry Jim's, (Y/n) wiggles out of Deacon's arms and pilfers the knife from his boot. She crept after the man and followed him into the kitchen where she rammed the blade into the enemy's back, causing him to scream out as he fell to the floor. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. "You bitch!"

(Y/n) leaned down and yanked the blade from his back with a smirk. "It's a shame I don't have another hairpin. Enjoy bleeding out."

The man screamed as loud as he could, luring all the marauders to the restaurant. The (h/c)-haired woman rushed back to where she left her husband. Deacon was still crouched behind the car, watching the marauders storm into Hungry Jim's. "Let's get the hell outta here," he mumbled to her.

"Lead the way."

<———————————————<<<<<<<<<<<

"You both look like shit," Boozer commented when they arrived back at the safehouse the next morning.

"Nice to see you, too, buddy," (Y/n) snorts with laughter.

"What happened out there? I thought you'd be back before nightfall."

"One word—marauders," Deacon replied. "Bastards ambushed us on the highway. Remind me to return later on this week to kill the rest of 'em."

"Do we have anything for a headache?" The woman inquired, placing a hand against her pulsating head.

"There's some in the watchtower," Boozer responds before turning towards his bike. "I'm heading out to trade with Cope. Maybe we can get our hands on some more fish."

"Alright, Boozeman. Be careful," Deacon said. He looked over his shoulder to ask (Y/n) a question, but he saw she was making her way up the watchtower and followed. At the top, he watched her scrounge around for the medicine.

A dizzy spell caused (Y/n) to lose her footing, but she managed to catch herself before she fell. "Ugh, dammit..." Lowering her hand from her forehead, the blood on her fingertips caused her to grimace. "Why did it have to be a baseball bat?"

Deacon quickly rushed to her aid and caught her before she fell to the floor. He supported her body and guided her towards the small bed they shared. "You need to sit down and relax." He placed her on the bed gently before bending down to examine the wound on her head. Blood trickled down the side of her face, adding to the blood that had dried hours ago. He searched for a clean rag, medicine, and water.

Dabbing the cut along her hairline, he gripped the bottle of pills tightly. The plastic bent in his grasp, the top threatening to pop off from the pressure. "What else did they do?"

(Y/n) couldn't help but smirk at the question she thought he would've asked her hours ago. "And here comes the worrywart." She placed a hand against his cheek once he was done cleaning the wound. Her smirk transformed into a gentle smile. "Besides a bat to the head, nothing." She dropped her hand and patted the space next to her. 

Deacon sat beside (Y/n) on the bed and handed over the medicine. "You're out of commission until I say you aren't."

She swallowed the pill with a raised brow. Once the medicine slid down her throat, she spoke. "We've been married for five years, Deek. Haven't you learned anything?"

"Even if you beg me with those damn puppy dog eyes, I'm not changing my mind," he declared.

"I've more control over you than you know. I can change your mind. It's like flipping a coin—easy and simple," (Y/n) grinned.

A smug grin etched across the man's face. "Whatever you say." When Deacon saw she was about to stand up, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her onto the bed. She gasped in surprise when the world around her spun and when her vision steadied, she was laying beside him. "For now, we're gonna get some rest."

The bed was small, but it provided enough room for them both. (Y/n) rested her head on Deacon's chest, his heartbeat lulling her to sleep. "Didn't realize how tired I was until now."

Deacon combed his fingers through her soft, (h/c) locks. He continued his ministrations, glancing down at her face and watching her blink tiredly. "We're taking the entire day off."

"Agreed," (Y/n) smiled, closing her eyes and welcoming slumber with open arms.

[chilly-territory]

K ~ Four Seasons of K: Like flowers in a storm

Thanks to the wonderful blueseraphima who I can never thank enough, I have the texts of GoRa's currently ongoing series of short stories 4 Seasons of K, subtitled ~Seasonal short stories that might have happened~ and published monthly. This is the third story of the series, about Homura's flower viewing experience.

Like Flowers in a Storm [*] by Azano Kouhei

"You kno~w, I ended up wandering as far as the riverbank yesterday after a long while, and I have to say, the sakura there really is beautiful. Right now is the perfect time to watch it bloom."

The one to make this utterance, cheerfully like spring itself, was Totsuka Tatara who sat at the counter, gracefully enjoying his black tea. Unfortunately, the bar's master, Kusanagi Izumo, was out shopping at the moment, but, surprisingly, the tea Totsuka made himself turned out pretty good. Although if Kusanagi saw him making it, he would probably give Totsuka an earful about how wasteful he was using more tea leaves than was necessary, in Kusanagi's view.

It was half past 4 in the afternoon, and bar HOMRA wasn't open for business just yet. Through the wide open windows languid spring air was seeping in, drifting across the bar. The faint sweet smell it brought with it was probably that of the flowers found in the flower beds on the street outside. Mingling with the aroma of the freshly brewed black tea, it tickled one's nostrils pleasantly.

"Ohh, sounds good." It was Yata Misaki, occupying a seat on the couch with a bottle of Cola, who swooped in on Totsuka's suggestion. His eyes sparkled as he jumped up out of his seat, "Actually, I was thinking the same thing. Especially considering that sakura in the city is almost in bloom already. The riverbed is sunny, so I thought that sakura there might've gone into full bloom already." "Ohh." Totsuka's gaze, focused on Yata's eager facem sounded teasing. "Now, that's a surprise." "Eh? What is?" "The fact that you would pay such close attention to how much sakura's blooming advanced. Since it's you we're talking about, I was sure that you would always unfailingly prefer dango over flowers, Yata." [**] "Wha...! Please don't assume things about me like I'm Kamamoto or something, Totsuka-san! And anyway, so what if I'm interested in sakura. It's not a big deal." "It is though, because you really strike everyone as someone who would chose dango over flowers, Yata-san." "...I thought so, too..." "Not you too, Anna! Sure, it's not like I hate dango, but come on!" Yata lamented pitifully, and the bar got filled with familiar laughter on the cue.

Even Anna, sitting by Totsuka's side, snickered, shoulders shaking. In her small hands, too, was grasped a cup of black tea that Totsuka made.

For a while, a frown was scrunching Yata's face, until he finally snorted. "Anyway," he got back on track, "we were talking about the sakura by the riverside, remember? Within this district, that's gotta be the best place worth seeing, right? It has a lot of sakura trees, their shape is good, and you can come there freely all year long. The way it blooms there, all huge and flashy and stuff, gotta feel really nice, too!" "Yeah. I agree. Yata is right. That riverbank has a nice view to begin with. It'd be most enjoyable to come there on a day with good weather like today." Lips on the edge of his cup, Totsuka glanced at the scenery outside the open window.

Even indoors, you could tell how pleasantly the gentle caress of the sunlight must have felt.

"Actually, Totsuka-san. Since we're discussing this seriously and stuff, let's just go proper flower viewing." "Oh, I'd like that! Let's all have a blast while watching sakura bloom! And bring lots of yummy stuff along, too!" "Heh, just listen to yourself, Kamamoto. I knew it, you're the first on the list among those who'd take dango over flowers." "But of course!" "...Hm?" "What, please cut me some slack, Yata-san. Like I'd be on the fence over something like that! Flowers over dango! But I'm not one to complain if I can get both flowers and dango, y'know? To elaborate on the topic, if you ask me, the optimum balance would be dango, flower, dango, dango!" "R-Right... I see." In the face of Kamamoto's impressive vigor, Yata, who started it in the first place, got humbled.

"Sounds nice to me~" came from the side from the always positive Totsuka. "Should we ask Kusanagi-san to make us some bentos then? Something like futomaki and inari-zushi." "In that case, I also want potato salad with fried eggs. And no matter what anyone says, fried chicken is a must!" "That's Kamamoto for you. So very particular about his dango, eh." "That's because for flower viewing, food is crucial. Is it OK for me to arrange for alcohol and drinks? Rest assured and simply leave the lead to me!" "Hey, don't put yourself in charge without asking!" "No, no, this is one thing I won't budge about." Although Kamamoto rapidly heated up all of a sudden, that careful and somewhat meddlesome side was what made him reliable in these situations.

"Decided, then," Totsuka smiled. "We'll refine the details once Kusanagi-san is back. ...No objection, I trust, right, King?" Totsuka turned to the farthest from the counter end of the room - to Suoh Mikoto - to check it with him.

But there was no answer.

"Huh?" All the present shifted their gazes to Suoh. "...King?"

"...Mn," Suoh finally responded halfheartedly after nodding his head back and forth. Then he slowly raised his arms and stretched, taking out a cigarette with a sigh, putting it between his lips and lighting it. Taking a drag with a drowsy look, he blew out the smoke.

"Hey," he voiced again. "'In spring one sleeps a sleep that knows no dawn,' was it," Totsuka commented, suppressing a giggle. "...It's already evening though," Kamamoto remarked in a whisper, but Suoh simply continued smoking his cigarette, showing no sign of caring any about the two's exchange.

Except when he noticed the black tea that Totsuka and Anna sipped, he ceased all movement for a second, raised one eyebrow and, taking one more drag of his cigarette, put out the barely touched stick on the ashtray.

"...So? What's this all about?" Suoh asked. "As I was saying..." With that, Totsuka summed up for Suoh the flower viewing discussion that took place just moments before.

"Do whatever you like," Suoh finally said rather disinterestedly. Though his lack of interest wasn't anything new, if anything, it was his normal state. Only, not outright refusing anything was what was good about Suoh, too.

"King, don't treat it like it someone else's business, you've got to participate as well, okay?" "If I feel like it." "You and your halfheartedness again. Come on, don't be difficult. All you'll need to do is just lie around on the riverbank, is all, anyway." Totsuka was his usual self as well, speaking cheerfully whatever was on his mind.

Still, clansmen be clansmen, and that was enough to get them thoroughly excited now that their king's approval had been secured.

"We gotta let the other guys know, too." "Yeah, let's have fun all together!"

Both Yata and Kamamoto didn't bother to hide how overeager they were. But the most delighted person was...

"...It will be my first time going flower viewing..."

...Anna, putting this muttered confession into words.

"Eh? Really?" Yata asked back.

Kamamoto looked surprised, too.

"Ah, but now that I think about it... Right, a kid wouldn't be interested in something like flower viewing. Sure, they go if their parents bring them along, but... ah no, it's..." Yata got flustered and didn't finish his sentence. "Anna," Totsuka smiled at the girl. "Can you see the color of sakura blossoms?" "...Yes. It's a sakura red, very pale though. Like it's about to vanish any moment... but yes, I can see it. Flecks of it floating in the air is what it looks like to me," Anna said haltingly, her eyes on the cup in her hands. She rocked the red of her black tea and swished it in the cup. "Being under it with everyone... I can't wait," she added delightedly, gazing down at the cup's contents.

All of a sudden Yata sprang up to his feet, pumping his fist excitedly, "Alright then! Count on us, Anna! We'll give you the taste of the best flower viewing experience ever!" "Let's do this, Yata-san! I'll make sausage octopuses! And apple rabbits!" "Hm, then what should I make, I wonder. Anna, what would you like?" "...Tom yum goong." "For flower viewing? That's sure original."

Suoh meanwhile put his elbows on the counter, watching his comrades talk excitedly. Sighing at the sight, he reached for the cigarette, then remembered he had put it out and stopped.

That's when the doorbell came to life, announcing the arrival of Kusanagi with an armful of shopping bags. "I'm back~" Jacket on his arm, he commented with a lopsided smile, "Today's so warm that I should've left the jacket home."

"Kusanagi-san! We got something to tell you!" "What is it, Yata? Got in another fight again?" "Not that! It's about flower viewing! We were talking about how it'd be nice to go flower viewing!" "Huh? It's a problem if you spring it on me on such short notice. I can't close the bar today." "Well, it doesn't have to be today. Besides, the place that we chose doesn't have street lighting, so it'd be really dark after sunset. But the earlier we can go, the better. So how about tomorrow? What do you say, Totsuka-san?"

Totsuka nodded, agreeing with Yata. Needless to say, neither Kamamoto, Anna or even Suoh had any objection, either.

The only one who looked troubled was Kusanagi. Sweeping all the present with a gaze, he finally said, "...Well, guys, hate to break it to you, but tomorrow..."

*

...it rained.

Or rather, it stormed.

By 10:10 a.m., pitch black clouds that had appeared at dawn, had covered the sky completely, and a strong wind blew in violent gusts, making the window panes of bar HOMRA rattle. The rain proper had yet to start falling, but large drops of it did hit the walls of the bar from time to time. According to the weather forecast, by noon a downpour was expected to hit in full. A real spring storm indeed.

"I told you, didn’t I? Oh well, this is one thing that we can't do anything about." "..." Yata and Kamamoto exchanged awkward looks, Totsuka smiled a strained little smile while tenderly stroking the head of a depressed looking Anna.

Even after hearing the weather forecast, the members assembled in the bar, hoping against hope that maybe it was wrong, but unfortunately for them, it wasn't. What's worse, because of the strong wind and torrential rain, sakura blossoms in full bloom had no chance to hold out through the day without scattering their petals prematurely. It was only reasonable to assume that this weather put a resolute end to sakura's blooming this year.

Kusanagi, standing deep behind the counter, glanced at Anna to check how she was doing. He had already heard why Yata and Kamamoto were so excited when he came back yesterday. It was the best opportunity they had in a long while, and they wanted Anna to enjoy it. That said, as he had remarked earlier, weather was the one thing that nothing could be done about.

"C'mon, Anna. Cheer up," Kusanagi called out, putting a multi-tiered bentou box on the counter. Despite knowing about the bad weather - or rather precisely because he had been aware - Kusanagi poured all of his skills and talent into making a deluxe flower viewing bentou.

With a soft click, another something was put onto the counter - a little vase. In it, lovely pink flowers were arranged. And their petails were...

"...Sakura?" "Or so they look like. Actually, it's primrose. Let's make do with these for today's flower viewing." Kusanagi winked playfully at the thoroughly surprised Anna.

Totsuka bowed his hear to Kusanagi in admiration. "Nothing less from you, Kusanagi-san. That consideration you show towards girls is why you're so popular with them, I guess." "As someone who calls himself the bar's master, I have the duty to soothe ladies' grieving hearts." "You're so cool, Kusanagi-san! Please soothe my grieving stomach next!" "Hey, no devouring this, Kamamoto. Lunchtime is still ways off. You're not supposed to be in a hurry when eating this," Kusanagi mildly admonished, and the mood in the bar brightened somewhat.

Anna seemed to bounce back, too, answering Kusanagi's consideration with a smile.

Only, immediately after...

A boom resounded as a loud clap of thunder exploded in the atmosphere somewhere very high above. Belatedly, torrent-like rain  started rapping against the windows with almost enough force to break them.

Anna shrank with a start, while Yata and Kamamoto yelped.

It was dark outside like it was night. The storm had finally arrived in all its glory.

The cheerfulness that had finally returned to Anna's features earlier disappeared and her expression got clouded again. Kusanagi and Totsuka, faces tight, exchanged glances.

And then...

"...Well then." Suoh, who was sitting silently at the counter until then, got up slowly. "I'm going out. Make sure to leave me some alcohol," he threw curtly Kusanagi's way. "Huh? Out? What for?" "A walk." "Huh?" "To the riverbank. Sakura'll fall off, right?" "No, no, no, no." Kusanagi shook his head like he had no idea what country's language he should speak to get through to Suoh.

All the others watched Suoh in shocked silence.

"It's a storm outside, I told you." "Yeah, looks like it, but that’s not a good enough reason for me not to go out." "Maybe, but with a strong wind like that...!" "I'll just get blown away, is all." "There's also rain. And with how things are looking, soon it will turn into a s---" "...So I'll get soaked, so what? Is that a problem or something?" Suoh replied calmly. And then flashed a tiny grin.

Kusanagi found himself lost for words.

Anna, who watched the exchange with wide open eyes, shook slightly. "...I'm going, too!" "Wait, Anna?!" Kusanagi cried out, but she only had eyes for Suoh. Suoh snorted. "...An umbrella won't do. Go put on a rain coat. And don't let go of me under any circumstances, got it?" he said.

Anna nodded energetically and rushed with small steps to get the rain coat.

"I-I'm going, too!" Yata shouted once he came to his senses. "Me, too," Kamamoto hurried to back him up.

Totsuka, unable to keep a straight face any longer, burst into laughter, while Kusanagi rolled his eyes at the ceiling, still dumbfounded. "I'm just no match, honestly." "No sweat. It's going to be very Homura-like flower viewing, no? How about coming along, Kusanagi-san?" Totsuka smiled a carefree smile at the grieving Kusanagi. So it appeared he intended to come along, too.

Before long, Anna returned with the rain coat. Her cheeks were colored with a faint blush and her eyes were sparkling just like they did yesterday when the group was making plans to go flower viewing.

At the sight of that face, all power got drained from Kusanagi, and he smiled the same smile as Totsuka.  "Can't be helped. How can I not." "Okay." "...Let's go, then." "Yeah!" Yata and Kamamoto yelled, following their leaders.

Anna nodded energetically.

*

And so, Homura departed for the riverbank in the storm mounting from every direction. Having experienced the drumming downpour of the torrential rain and the blizzard of falling sakura blossoms with every inch of their bodies, all of them to the last one got themselves dripping wet. Despite being soaked, they laughed in loud voices, thoroughly appreciating the sakura trees in full bloom as they got illuminated with flashes of lighting.

It was 3 hours later that they made it back to the bar. While Anna was off taking a hot shower, the rest, dripping on the floor, started the banquet. The merrymaking had lasted late into the night.

As a result, though. at least two participants came down with a cold...

But to Anna, it became a flower viewing experience, as beautiful and intense as blazing flames, that she would never forget.

T/N:

[*] The title itself 花に嵐の ("hana ni arashi no") is the beginning of a Japanese toast, originating in Chinese poetry and sounding like 花に嵐のたとえもあるぞ さよならだけが人生だ ("hana ni arashi no tatoe mo aruzo, sayonara dake ga jinsei da" - Like flowers scatter in a storm, life is filled with farewells). The common interpretation of it goes as follows: it's not unusual for transient flowers to get scattered by a sudden storm, so you've got to appreciate the people you meet and the time you spend with them while you still have the chance.

[**] 花より団子 ("hana yori dango" - Dango over flowers) is another famous set phrase, a proverb meaning that people are more interested in the practical over the aesthetic/ in material things over the soul.

[keldae]

The Family Business pt. 1

When one came down to it, the idea of launching a strike assault on Korriban's Sith Academy wasn't all that complicated on a datapad. The coordinates were set, the weaknesses identified, and the objective marked. Colonel Darok already had a strike force ready to deploy as soon as he and Agent Theron Shan could agree on a leader for the team's ground forces.

"Major Darren Kota, Havoc Squad." Darok rubbed at his chin contemplatively as the named soldier's holo-image rotated before him from the projector. "Hell of a good commander. I've got him for the initial clearing strike, but we can move him to the second wave if needed."

"This guy's not known for restraint where the Imps are concerned. We need that Academy data intact, you said- he'd bomb the planet from orbit first and destroy any intel before we get our hands on it." Theron shook his head. "Pity Aric Jorgan's not the CO of that unit, he's better at keeping a cool head around Imps." But far be it from Theron to question the military decisions of General Garza… or his father (well, aside from that whole incident with the Ascendant Spear, but that was beside the point).

"Hmmph. What about the Barsen'thor… what's his name, Jakar something-or-rather?"

"Forseti. I looked into it already, but he’s currently stationed elsewhere." Theron shrugged. “Couldn’t get a straight answer out of any of the Order, either. Jedi…”

Darok snorted. "I don't suppose you've got any decent ideas yourself, Shan."

"One so far." Theron tapped a button on his datapad, producing a new face. "Captain Korin, a Republic privateer. He's the guy who went up against the Voidwolf and lived to tell the tale. I hear he's the guy who's kept the entire criminal underworld from uniting under Imperial rule."

"A spacer?" Darok frowned. "I don't know I like the idea of having some lawless smuggler leading a Republic op."

"Maybe not. Our intel indicates that he's got enough of a hate-on for the Empire that he'll throw his lot in with anyone fighting them, and right now that's us. He's already taken out a few traitors to the Republic, too- might not be a patriot, but I'm sure we can persuade him to fight with us." Theron shrugged. "Besides, looking at his record, he's a hell of a quick shot and a pilot, and knows how to sneak around. Might be handy to have."

"Hmmmph." Darok eyed Captain Korin's face for a bit longer. "He fought at Corellia, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Made something of a name for himself there- y'know, after being the guy to find Nok Drayen's fortune and all. He was on Rogun the Butcher's hit list for years, and survived."

"... Might not be bad. I got one more suggestion for you first." The smuggler's face disappeared, replaced with that of a human woman. "Jedi Master Xaja Taerich, if we can get hold of her. Pity she's not around Carrick Station too often."

Theron shrugged as he eyed the Jedi's face. He didn't have anything against the Jedi, considering he'd been raised by them, but he wasn't that fond of most of the Order as it was, his mother being a significant reason as to the 'why'. Anyone else might have said he had long-standing mom issues. The spy pulled up her dossier on his datapad and nodded. A lot of retracted data, but that wasn’t uncommon for high-profile Jedi Masters. "Commander of the Jedi forces on Corellia recently. Isn't she the one who went after the Emperor directly?"

"Not many other Jedi who can claim even trying that. Anyone who can infiltrate Kaas City would be an advantage for us on Korriban. She might want a shot at taking out the Academy herself, finish the job she started on Dromund Kaas."

There was a long pause before Theron shrugged. “Master Taerich sounds good. I’ll get feelers out for her and the captain.”

Darok nodded. "I'll get Havoc on standby for the second wave of the assault if we can’t get either of them, or Forseti. Hopefully Kota won't be as much of a liability as you think."

"No, I don't like the idea of sending one of the Dark Council on this expedition." Darth Arkous frowned, the ridges of his face shifting with the movement. "Darth Imperius in particular is too scholarly for this sort of endeavour."

"He is the one who fought Darth Thanaton all the way to the Dark Council chamber itself, as you recall, and won. I believe that says enough for his combat prowess." Lana Beniko looked to her master as she tapped on her datapad. Most comparatively-low-ranked advisors would need to be far more subservient to their overseers- Lana supposed she was grateful that Arkous had a higher focus on the task ahead than the traditions of rank and titles and proper submission. She was a Lord in her own right, after all- no need to pander like an Acolyte. "Besides, he's far more balanced and stable than Darth Nox is…"

Arkous scowled ferociously at the mention of the Sith assassin. There was bad blood there, apparently. "Imperius is still more likely to find the Jedi library and barricade himself in there until he'd satisfied that thirst for knowledge he seems to have, if he doesn’t just join the Order itself. What of Darth Maglion?"

"The Wrath? If you can find him, he'll still be likely to destroy everyone and everything within the Jedi Temple- our own forces included, and the intel we're trying to get!" Lana shook her head. "He'll want to press on to Coruscant and eradicate every single Jedi and their supporters if he gets that deep into Republic Space. He'd just have slightly better odds than Darth Nox at surviving."

"Although getting rid of the Jedi like this is tempting…" Arkous mused.

"Tempting, yes- but it’s too costly and will take too much time. Imperius is better at staying within boundaries in the name of efficiency, and knows to restrain himself around valuable data."

Arkous frowned as he paced back and forth through the planning room. "... Fine, Darth Imperius. Have you a backup plan should he think too fondly of his texts and artifacts to leave them behind?"

"Yes, my lord. The Champion of the Great Hunt, Shara Verhayc, could be an asset. She's killed Jedi before, and their last Supreme Chancellor. It's not like this would be unfamiliar territory for her."

"Yes, the Mandalorian. She might be useful. And if neither she nor Imperius can be of service..." Arkous tapped a command into the holoprojector. "Cipher Nine has infiltrated the Republic before. He might be able to get our forces past the Republic security protocols around the Temple itself."

"Cipher Nine? He is a good asset, but a little on the older side, is he not?" Lana frowned critically at the slowly rotating image of the spy's face. "What was his original name- Reanden Taerich, I believe?"

"With age comes experience, Beniko. Agent Taerich knows the value of hitting hard and fast where it hurts the most. And anyone still doing his job at his age is good enough for me."

Lana studied the spy for a moment, then shrugged. "If we cannot get Verhayc on the team, Agent Taerich may be a good fit. At the least, he and Darth Imperius together cannot be as difficult to work with as Darth Nox on her own."

Arkous glared at the space before him. "I would sooner work with a Republic dog than Nox."

"Of course, my lord."

Well, this was shaping up to be Theron's day. Both Captain Korin and Master Taerich had been on board Carrick Station within an hour of the plans being made, by their own designs, and seemed intrigued over the holo by the idea. The spacer sauntered into the briefing room first, dark blond hair in a purposefully-messy style that almost put Theron's hair to shame, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, habitually within easy grabbing range of both blasters on his hips. "Afternoon, gents," he said with a lazy salute as he picked a portion of the wall to lean against. "Gotta admit, most of the time when I'm talkin' to Republic military folks all official-like, it's over a table in a really cold room with me wearin' binder cuffs…"

Darok gave Theron a look, as though to ask 'Are you out of your damn mind?'. Theron just shrugged back at the taller man, then looked to the captain. "Well, if you really want, we can switch the briefing to a suitable room for-"

"Naaah, we're good." The spacer gave Theron a cocky grin. "What's this fancy-lookin' planning business, anyway?"

"I'd rather not explain it more than once," Theron said. "We're just waiting on the last member of the team to show up and-"

The door slid open, and a tiny redhaired woman in brown robes entered the room, wide eyes looking around. If Theron hadn't already been studying the dossiers of both strike team recruits beforehand, he would have called this woman a Padawan and then proceeded to kick her out of the briefing- but no Jedi Padawan had eyes that looked that old, or a young-looking face that seemed so fatigued already. She couldn't have been older than her mid twenties, and the smuggler looked even younger. Theron himself was only a month away from turning thirty-one, but confronted with one of the youngest Masters of the Order, felt way older. "And that last person just arrived. Perfect timing. Master Taerich, Captain Korin, I'm Theron Shan with the Republic SIS- I spoke to both of you over the holo. This is Colonel Darok, Republic Armed Forces. He’s the one in charge of this op." He almost missed Captain Korin visibly tensing when he heard the Jedi's name, as though startled.

"Good to meet you in person." Master Taerich had a soft, almost-musical quality to her voice that Theron could pick up easier in person than over the holo. "What's this event you mentioned?"

Colonel Darok had saluted to the Jedi Master when she'd walked in, and now turned his attention back to the holoprojector. "We," he said with a note of gleeful anticipation in his voice, "are launching a strike assault on the Sith Academy, and you two are shaping up to be our aces for the next wave of the attack."

"Korriban?!" Master Taerich's eyes widened in surprise. "When did we gain the military strength to attack the Sith homeworld?"

Theron glanced to Captain Korin, trying to gauge the smuggler's reaction to the news. But it looked like the spacer hadn't heard Darok at all- he was frozen, staring at Master Taerich like he'd seen a ghost. Definitely not the normal spacer way of eyeballing a pretty lady, Jedi or otherwise. Does he know her already? Maybe she's got a sister he's met or something. The Jedi seemed to be ignoring or unaware of the smuggler's stare.

"We normally wouldn't be able to pull an op like this," Darok confessed. "But we've identified a weakness in the planetary defences- now's the best time to exploit it before it's sealed up."

Master Taerich nodded slowly. "Reasonable. What's our objective?"

Straightforward and to the point. Much like most of the other Jedi Theron had ever met, his mother included. "We're not going to be able to launch a full-scale conquering of the entire system- we don't have the resources for that. But we do have enough to grab intel from the Dark Council chambers, maybe whatever Sith relics you can find. Figured you'd be the most knowledgeable about that, Master Taerich."

"Sith artifacts aren't my specialty, Agent Shan, but I'm sure I can improvise." The Jedi gave Theron a studious look over the slight smile on her lips, and for an uncomfortable moment the spy wondered if she had made the mental connection between his name and the name of the Grand Master. "If nothing else, taking them from the Academy should hurt the Sith almost as much as any intel we take."

Theron nodded. "Exactly. If this succeeds the way we’re hoping, we’re going to gain more intel from this than from every other past SIS operation combined."

Captain Korin seemed to have drawn himself out of his daze, and was now listening with a raised eyebrow. "So while there's a Jedi in on this for dealin' with the cranky ‘saber jockeys and their shiny objects, what am I doing?"

"The Jedi in question needs someone watching her back," Theron answered. "Preferably someone who can take out the grouchy lightsaber-wielding ones at a distance. I hear you're a pretty decent slicer, too." Not half as good as Theron himself, of course. If Theron met a smuggler who was a better slicing hand than he was, he'd eat his favourite red jacket.

Korin shrugged with perfectly faked modesty. "I got bored an' learned how."

"Well, if you fight like you talk, the op'll be in good hands," Darok spoke up. "Any questions from you two?"

"Is there anything in particular we're looking for?" Master Taerich asked. "And when do we leave?"

"For the second question, your shuttle's prepped now and waiting in the hangar down the hall- and I'll have one of my associates focusing on the data retrieval. Maybe you know him- Commander Jensyn."

Master Taerich nodded. "I know of him. We'll head out now."

"Good luck," Theron said as Jedi and smuggler turned to leave the briefing room- one composed and serene, one still pale and shaken and trying to pretend he wasn't. "May the Force be with you." He set back to tracking the troop movements en route to Korriban, and lasted all of thirty seconds before looking up and at Darok's contemplative smirk. "What?"

"She's cute," Darok said with a grin. "Wonder how attached she is to that Code of hers…"

"You, sir, are the creepiest man I've ever met, and I've got Sith on my kills list," Theron growled.

"Not for me, Shan!" Darok shook his head emphatically. "The girl's young enough to be my daughter. I was thinking for you- she looks like she's around your age, maybe a little younger."

"Yeah, and you missed the part where she's a Jedi Master." Theron rolled his eyes and went back to the display he was studying. "No way in hell am I getting involved with one of them."

"You need to get laid. Or are you this much of a grump normally when dealing with pretty Jedi girls?" Darok paused and grinned. "Or just jealous of that spacer she's gonna be spending time with?"

Theron scowled at Korriban's blue holo-form. "I've got better things to focus on than the odds of me- or you- getting with a Jedi woman."

"Yeah, sure. I'll just plan on settin' you up with her after this op is done."

"Not interested, Colonel."

"... Oh, you swing the captain's way instead? Don't worry, I don't judge."

Theron turned away from Darok's grin with a glare and a renewed focus on his work. Darok could try his best to muddle with Theron's non-existent romantic life (which he did not need help with, thank you very much!), but the spy had work to focus on. He was a workaholic for a reason, dammit. That was about the only thing he had in common with most Jedi, including the pretty redhead boarding a shuttle for Korriban now, and it wasn't likely to change.

As it turned out, Shara Verhayc held her priorities in a slightly different order than most of the Empire's citizens, and Lana found that out the hard way over the holo. "Sorry, dar'jetii, but Mand'alor's scarier than you are," the bounty hunter said, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her face. "And he's got me an' my crew elsewhere at the mo'."

"This is important," Lana insisted. "For the sake of the Empire-"

"The clans come first." Verhayc shook her head and grinned. "Good luck though." The Mandalorian's blue form winked out of existence, leaving Lana to grit her teeth in frustration.

"It's fortunate that Agent Taerich is already confirmed to be on Vaiken and knows his place with the Dark Council," Darth Arkous dryly commented as his advisor turned away from the holoterminal, trying to not look like she was ignoring the ominously-silent Lord Goh in the corner or cursing Verhayc's irreverent attitude under her breath. "Any news on the Wrath?"

"Unavailable," Lana lied smoothly. No point in Arkous not knowing she hadn't bothered trying to get in contact with the Wrath. There was a limit as to how many psychopaths she had the tolerance for in a day, and one who had all the rage of the Emperor far exceeded that limit. "However, Darth Imperius is en route to our location and should be here momentarily."

Arkous frowned. "Hmm. That scholar decided he found something more intriguing than ancient tomes?"

"That scholar," spoke a third voice, "is right here and can hear you perfectly fine." The dark-clad Darth Imperius strode in, all six feet of lanky build and a voice distorted by the mask on his face. Lana had always thought the newest induction to the Dark Council was far younger than he carried himself, but he never took that mask off- if rumours were to believed, the mask of the ancient Lord Kallig himself. Nobody was quite sure who he was, as he'd abandoned his birth name after killing Darth Zash and usurping her place. The only one who could have identified him outside of his Sith title, an instructor from Korriban named Harkun, had been found dead not long after Imperius had ascended to the Dark Council, to the rejoicing of many a Sith who had suffered under his tutelage. It was suspicious, but the academic Sith was nothing if not thorough in hiding his trail, and was currently fixing Arkous with a gaze that, if his body language was any indication, hinted that he was quite displeased.

"... My apologies," Arkous finally said, inclining his head minutely to the other Dark Lord. "It's good to have you join us. I do regret that we've never properly met before this day, Imperius- the Sphere of Military Offense is quite time-consuming, as I'm sure you understand."

"I'm sure," Imperius said flatly. "Is there anyone else involved with this mission that your associate did not wish to share details of over the holo?"

"One other," Lana spoke up, looking to the door as another man strode in. For being the only Force-blind person in a room full of Sith, Agent Reanden Taerich didn't seem to be overly concerned with his safety, and only offered polite nods to everyone else in the room. Lana supposed that the man who'd been responsible for the demise of Darth Jadus (and although she didn't want to admit it, could probably find a way to kill or bring down every single Sith in the room) wouldn't be too worried by other Sith. "Darth Imperius of the Dark Council, Agent Taerich, one-time Cipher Nine from Imperial Intelligence."

"I am Darth Arkous," the other Dark Councillor introduced himself, "and this is my most trusted advisor, Lana Beniko. And in the corner is Lord Goh, who will be working with us. You do not require further introductions?"

"We've met," Imperius said, returning the nod back to Taerich. Lana wasn't certain, but she thought she sensed something through the Force from the other Sith, something that hinted the other was… pleased with Agent Taerich's presence.

"My lord," Taerich quietly said in acknowledgement of Imperius' statement, then looked at Lana and Arkous. "What's this about? You mentioned something about Tython?"

"Yes. If I could carry a tune, I would sing of this day. This is the day we strike a crushing blow to the Jedi, and the Republic! Today, the Jedi Temple will burn!” Arkous sounded fairly gleeful.

Darth Imperius gave no visible reaction, aside from perhaps a slight tensing of his frame. Agent Taerich merely blinked. "The Jedi Temple? That's no small feat- I’d thought it impossible. How lax have the Jedi become in their planetary defences?"

"Not enough to properly raze the planet to its core," Arkous said (and he did sound quite regretful about that fact), "but enough to send the Republic reeling and the Jedi scurrying. A source that I personally trust has alerted me to a hole in the planetary defences. If we strike hard and fast, we can utterly crush Republic morale- annihilate it!"

“Hmmm.” Imperius seemed to tilt his head in thought. “And once we’ve taken the Temple?”

"While you concern yourselves with the assault," Lana answered, "Lord Goh will be tasked with securing the Temple. As long as we can maintain control, we’ll have access to the Jedi archives and relics and will be able to learn everything they know about the Order and the Force.” The ripples in the Force told her that Imperius was very interested in that.

Taerich raised an eyebrow. "Does Lord Goh talk, or is he mute?”

"Lord Goh prefers to use actions rather that words. In that respect, he is a flawless communicator." Lana offered a small smile. "Any questions?"

Imperius and Taerich looked at each other for a moment- then the Sith shrugged. "None. We will contact you when we've reached Tython."

That was easier than expected, Lana silently mused as she inclined her head to both strike team leaders. "Your shuttle awaits. May the Force serve you well." She watched both Sith and agent leave the room, and saw them enter their shuttle through the security cameras before the vessel lifted off with the rest of the second strike force.

She never saw Darth Imperius pull Agent Taerich into a private area of the shuttle and remove his mask to reveal a very young face (only in his early twenties), long brown hair, and a pair of brown eyes that perfectly mirrored the ones he looked into, now wide and worried-looking. "Dad…"

She also never saw Reanden Taerich grip the Sith's shoulder tightly, only now showing the fear that had closed around his heart when he had learned of the mission objective. "Better start praying she's not there, son."