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reachgirl · 3 years

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On Buddie and them potentially being aware of their feelings

So we definitely see evidence of how Eddie might feel about Buck, how he clearly loves and trusts him. He absolutely relies on Buck a lot as someone who loves Christopher, as that person you go to who cares about your kid as much as you do. And he clearly doesn’t handle not having Buck around very well during the storyline that must not be named.

He also looks at Buck like “you’re lucky you’re pretty”, a LOT. And he’s shown to think about Buck’s wellbeing and Buck’s feelings. For a guy who’s not usually great at ~the talking~, he seems to sense that Buck needs to hear him actually *say* things like that he trusts him, out loud. For Buck, someone who’s been told that he’s reckless and impulsive, not diligent, not reliable (and to be fair to Bobby, has been all those things at times, but is desperate to change that view of himself), to be told that he’s trusted - more than anyone else - with someone’s kid? That’s huge. And Eddie knew that he needed to hear that, he also knew that he needed to feel like part of something when Buck was depressed and hanging around at home after the truck bombing. And Eddie was the one who noticed Buck wasn’t around at the station. For Eddie, the fact that they “have each other’s backs” is so important, because, and it’s insane how this is not wishful thinking on the fandom’s part, he actually tells Shannon that she doesn’t have his back. So yeah, absolutely nobody is disputing that Eddie loves Buck.

And I’ve talked about how I believe that Eddie might be bi leaning towards more into men than women (his “not my type” and aunt pepa’s reaction to buck are the foundation for this theory), and his particular combination of upbringing, experience and location really messing with him admitting that to himself (Conservative religious culture, Texas, army, getting married young because of outside expectations). But many of the scenes we get from him could - FROM THE OUTSIDE - very well just show a guy who has a lot of love and respect (and occasionally some fond exasperation) for his best friend. Possibly more, but not in that active, pining way. Not like he’s truly aware of it, yet.

But Buck? He pretty much always looks at Eddie like he’s the best thing that has happened to him, ever, and he can’t believe his luck of getting to be around this man. The smile he constantly gives him, and - in seasons 2 and 3 - only him, is the actual “I want to sleep with you smile” from season 1 Buck. I don’t make the rules.

He constantly finds ways to help him out, reads up on things he knows Eddie is interested in or things that are for some reason something Eddie is dealing with (whether it’s baseball biographies or summer camp brochures), and absolutely always looks to him for approval anytime he does something well or remotely badass. Or even when he makes a joke. It’s almost like 95% of the stuff he does, he does so that Eddie will see.

He sees himself as part of Eddie’s family to the point of not feeling like he’s a guest at their house, he has proven he would actually die for Chris, and he spends much of his free time finding ways of making Chris, the most important person in Eddie’s life, happy. He shares in both the happy and the difficult parts of raising Chris, he gets involved in school problems, and he’s there for Eddie to talk through all the little things that come up when you’re a parent. Often times, with single parents, when the other parent isn’t around, the problem is that there’s nobody else in your life who shares the same love and enthusiasm or worry you have for your child. You could talk about everything relating to them for hours, but even the best meaning friends will at some point reach the limit of how interested they are. Not so with Buck.

But unlike Eddie, Buck is also aware, to a point, of how much he’s focused on Eddie. Where Eddie’s jealousy comes across as more spur-of-the-moment, not something he’s even aware of, Buck seems like.. he’s thought about how he feels about Eddie. Others definitely have. Maddie’s comment about his “man crush” aside, even a random christmas elf (long may she live) comments on it. Hen and Karen immediately agree Buck would invite Eddie, like, Karen knows about this even. Their reaction when Buck is acting irrational over how they might get Eddie out when he’s buried alive and most likely dead already is that reaction of “Oh fuck, this will break this person” that is usually reserved for the significant other or parent. Bobby definitely reacts to Buck in relation to Eddie the way a father would, carefully weighing being amused at how obvious he’s being, and concern over not wanting him to get hurt doing something stupid trying to save Eddie, or by falling for him when it might not be reciprocated. They all know that Buck’s a little (more than) smitten with Eddie. And Buck... of course he’s going to notice how his friends and family react. I think he’s been aware of it for a while and is constantly trying to navigate and balance this.

Of course he hasn’t told his face about balancing anything at all yet, because look at that man’s face any time he looks at Eddie, look at that scene with the medal. He absolutely can’t help it. And sometimes it’s like he wants them to pick up on it - for example, pushing Maddie on the fact that he doesn’t consider himself a guest. And that’s completely understandable, sometimes you want people to pick up on something and maybe even comment on it (because their reaction reaffirms to you that maybe you’re not crazy) while also not wanting attention on that point. People are complicated like that. And Buck may be a himbo, but he’s complicated AF.

We get Buck being really weird about Eddie and Shannon in general - right off the bat. When Shannon shows up at the station and she and Eddie talk, Buck’s in the background and overhears that they’re sleeping together. He clearly struggles with this information, (and Chim possibly notices..) then he get’s real petty about them potentially getting married again (”Maybe you can get a discount”) - and he nopes out of the situation as quickly as he can - because he doesn’t want to risk saying anything snarky.

Then Chim and Buck go christmas tree shopping, and Chim comments on how Buck can’t let Eddie’s situation with Shannon go, and it’s true, he can’t stop himself. But when Eddie asks him for advice in front of the fountain (/metaphorical water penis as I like to call it), he’s suddenly all “I didn’t think it was my business” ... ok, sure, Buck. Then he basically tells Eddie to try and make it work with Shannon. In terms of character development, in a romance, this is the part where person A wants to be with person B but doesn’t think they have a chance, so makes the choice to try and settle for being their friend, which, heartbreakingly, involves pushing them into the arms of someone else.

Also, his kind of “oversharing” of Eddie’s situation with Ana to the rest of the team is, to me, a pretty clear indicator that the topic makes him uncomfortable and he’s trying a Ross Geller-I’m making Fajitas- “let’s show everyone how very completely normal I feel about this” approach, which.. it doesn’t.. work that well. And when does this ever work, it’s super easy to see through this, and it usually just serves to draw more attention to the fact that you’re uncomfortable with whatever is being discussed.

Buck also takes everything Eddie says to heart. Like, fucking takes it and will not let go of it. Half a season after Eddie tells him that he makes everything about himself, he breaks down telling Maddie he’s worried he’s making the situation with the old firefighter about himself again. During the kitchen scene (or “The actual how-to-guide of what to do when you thought the guy you have a crush on doesn’t reciprocate but then you have a fight and he really doesn’t handle being away from you so well so you kind of might as well see where being a little more openly flirty will get you”), Buck’s clearly thought about Eddie’s words from the grocery store fight, and he’s gonna call Eddie out. And maybe do other stuff.

Looking at what the writers are actually doing, to end the season, there’s the clawing at dirt of it all, Buck falling apart when Eddie’s buried alive. Buck being in almost all of Eddie’s memories when he’s close to dying. And Maddie’s comment about not wanting to set Josh up with Buck, which is innocent enough, but why throw that in on top of all of the above, if not because maybe what we’re actually looking at is that they’re setting up a sexuality crisis for Buck, and him realizing he’s maybe into Eddie, but Eddie not actually reciprocating (yet)? And say Buck is then somehow forcefully pushed to see the truth about how he feels, maybe by, i don’t know, coming across TK and/or Carlos on a call, and one of them asking him how long him and Eddie have been together? We might get Eddie with Ana, and a very long, drawn out process of Buck realizing what’s happening and trying to leave them alone, and Eddie being really confused about why Buck’s being like that. Then we would have two options (well, more, really, but these are two I like): 1) Eddie pushing Buck on that point and demanding an explanation and Buck just coming out with it because fuck it and sorry and please let me see Chris still 2) Buck’s sexuality crisis (or not crisis, if he’s always been pan/bi, which, look, nothing I’ve seen has disproven this theory) leading to him dating a guy and Eddie getting really jealous but not actually being aware of the fact what he feels is jealousy (because he doesn’t realize how he feels about Buck, see this whole essay you just read), and Buck being the one who confronts Eddie about why he’s being such a homophobic asshole about this, and Eddie straight up kissing him because he can’t not anymore.

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thewritingstar · 4 years

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When the Night is Still Young

Pairing: Brute x Princess

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

notes: Did I write this because @sxnalien art and couldn’t stop thinking about how good it was? absolutely Plus this ship needs more love and I shall serve. Enjoy :)

tag list: @shellielyzabeth @over-under-through1 (if you want to be on my tag list I have a post about that.)

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The wind was light and fair as it rolled through Townsville. It was one of those nights that nothing happened. No monster attacks or a bank being robbed. Rare but peaceful. Unless you were a part of the Morebucks household. No every night was pure bliss as the richest girl in the city and probably the entire country, waltzed towards her room ready to turn in for the night.

Her glass of milk was set on her nightstand that was embezzled with pure gold and hefty sapphires as the handles. She was one of high class and taste so anything under $500 would not cut it. Even the mountain of pillows that laid on her king size bed had more worth than most of the salaries of the kids on the far side of town. Big, flashy, rich. Her taste couldn’t be matched.

She grabbed her novel and slipped into bed where the finest silk sheets of a deep purple hue laid. Even at age 24, she was just as many remembered. Spoiled, chunning, spoiled, rude, spoiled, hot, spoiled, manipulative and of course spoiled rotten.

But when Daddy Morebucks had more money than most, what else were you to expect? In fact her taste proved in every aspect of her life.The food she ate was organic and came from the best chefs around. The clothes were designer and handbags imported from overseas. Her jewels had rare value and she loved nothing more than to show off her money. Even the people she dated were a part of her social level.

She flipped the page of her book as her lamp, that came from Paris and was crafted from stained glass, gave a soft glow. It was quiet and the estate had turned in for the night. The only thing she heard was the soft tapping of the wind.

And then the shuffle of the balcony door lock.

“You’re late.” Princess said as another page was turned. A grumbled came from the window as it closed.

“You’re lucky I'm even here.”

The book was taken out of her hands and she looked up to see the pair of greens eyes. Black eyeliner was caked around them, bringing out the rich color that glowed under the soft light of the lamp.

“Still dressing like a street rat I suppose.” Princess smirked and a dark chuckle came from the other girl.

“You act like you don’t like the chains and spikes. Sugar Plum.” Brute winked as she flashed a grin that showcased her slightly sharpened canines.

Princess pressed her lips together as her cheeks puffed out into a pout knowing she was right. But nonetheless her eyes traveled down. For someone who only wore Louis Vuitton and Gucci, she found out that her soft spot was black crop tops, leather jackets and a spiked collar that made her shiver every time it was worn around Brute's neck.

“Maybe I do. Get over it.” Princess spat as Brute leaned until her nose bumped hers.

“You’re such a little brat ya know?” She said as she took her lips into a bruising kiss.

If you would have told Princess that she would one day end up underneath the notorious green powerpunk. She would have laughed and thrown a gold bar at your face. She had only dated men whose wallets were almost as big as hers and just as snotty. Yet not once did she ever feel something more than physical attraction, even then it was slim.

She wanted high class and someone who could stand their own next to her. No one had ever come close to it. The relationships would turn to dust in a matter of months and deep down she wanted to have someone there who appreciated her for more than money, she was human after all.

And that's when she met Brute. One of the galas she had attended was coming to the end and she had decided that the world had seen enough of her for the night. Since it was one of the smaller events, Princess took her own car. Sometimes the limos were too stuffy and she preferred to drive the night with the windows down and her own tune humming.

“Damn these heels.” She groaned as the elevator to the parking garage was now out of order. She pushed open the stairwell and wished she had her jetpack to soar her through the sky. The click of her black stilettos echoed as she climbed the stairs.

The top of the parking garage came into view as she opened the last door and clicked her phone to make sure that whoever didn’t fix that damn elevator would be fired or seriously hurt. The luxury convertible with her signature license plate was on the other side and sometimes she wondered why she did this to herself.

Huffing, she continued in her tall heels not noticing the door behind her opening. In those mere seconds of her pulling out her eyes, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. She let out a yelp before throwing her elbow back and twisting the arm not caring about the snap that came with it. She turned before sending her foot in between the legs of the man who dared to touch her.

“Get the fuck off of me!” She growled before shoving the tip of her heel down next to his face, missing him by a hair.

Her eyes glared down at the man now weeping on the ground. His hands were raised in a shudder as he tried to regain his breath from being thrown to the ground and kicked in the balls. Quickly she leaned down and took a picture of his id before tossing it at his face and spraying him with pepper spray for good measure.

She ignored his scream as she walked away and texted the picture to her personal body guards. “Fucking scum bags.”

Her head was now sprouting a headache and all she wanted to do was get home and be surrounded by her riches. Princess narrowed her eyes as she came closer to her car and noticed a figure leaning against it. Smoke blowing from their lips as the cigarette sat between their fingers.

“Unless you are going to pay for those scratches, beat it!” She spat and pointed her finger.

The cigarette was dropped to the ground with an immature flip and black combat boots came down on it like a bug. The light gave out as she looked up with a dark chuckle, the last of the smoke dissipating into the air and Princess felt the shiver in her spine as she noticed the sinister grin coming from the other woman.

“This little thing?” The woman, she assumed was around her age, trailed her finger along the hood. “I’ve seen better.”

The red head rolled her eyes and looked her up and down. “What do you want Brute?”

Brute tilted her head like a dog getting offered a walk. “Ahh so the queen knows who i am.” She pushed off the car and threw a hand in her pocket. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not like you keep a low profile. Everyone knows who the Punks are.” She spat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to leave.” She tried to take a step but Brute blocked her path.

“The night is still young Sugar Plum.” Brute raised her eyebrow and Princess suddenly felt so small against those green eyes.

“Why would I want to spend my valuable time with you?” She asked.

Brute chuckled and shrugged. “Not too sure babe. But I did just watch you kick and spray that poor sucker over there and now I'm intrigued.”

Maybe Princess didn’t notice the blush creeping up on her cheeks but she pushed all thoughts away and scoffed. “He’s a creep and I don’t have time for nonsense. Goodnight.” She pushed past and clicked her car door open.

“Yay know. I wish I were in town to see the old Princess.” Brute said and she paused.

“Old Princess?”

“Yep.” Brute popped the P. “The infamous Princess Morebucks. Doesn’t take shit from anyone and does what she wants. So sad that we are so young and yet you parade around like daddys little golden medal, making sure to please everyone with an image you don’t want to keep.”

“It’s called running a business.” Princess said quickly yet she hated that the other woman was right.

“No need to get defensive, I’m just saying that I thought you were much more wild. Afterall you were a super villain but maybe you’ve been humbled down to a spoiled brat whose only reckless behavior is staying up till one.” Brute smirked before turning on her heel. “See ya later Sugar Plum.”

Brute began to walk. The metal chain belt made a slight rattling as she inched closer and closer towards the stairwell. Princess stood as she looked at her steering wheel then back at the punk. Something inside of her wanted to just drive away, feel the freedom that she used to as a teenager.

She got into the car, seatbelt clashing loudly as if all sound had been turned off around her. Her hands gripped the wheel and her eyes glanced towards the sky where the moon was hardly up.

The engine roared to life and she pulled out of the parking space making her way towards the exit.

“Get in.” She said and the punk turned around with a devious grin. A shutter went through her spine as the door opened and the seat filled in with Brute.

“Alright Sugar Plum, lets see that wild side.” And soon the parking lot was filled with dust as rubber burned through the city's streets.

You could hear the music blasting from the street as the pair walked up to the door.

“A club?” Brute asked yet she was impressed with the location.

It was located on the far side of town. The crime rate here had skyrocketed over the years and if you wanted to find a drug paradise, check between the cracks of the sidewalks.

Princess led her to the door. Her ID didn’t need to be checked as they passed the long line and were ushered in quickly. The dim lights only held a sea of bodies grinding against one another while cheap booze flowed in their veins.

The music was terrible and the smell might have been worse but she grabbed the punk's hand and led her to the dance floor without a care in the world. Their hips swayed and soon they had a drink in their hands.

The red head let the alcohol flood her system and soon the music wasn’t as bad as before. She kept her eyes focused on those dazzling greens. She hated the color beforehand. Thought that it was trashy unless it was a crisp hundred bill. But now even with the blazing light, she could see the flecks of the hue taking shape in her iris and wanted to explore it further.

“I never would have pegged you as a club person.” Brute said in her ear as the Princess pressed her back to her chest.

“It's the only place no one cares who you are.” She said as her hand made its way to Brutes cheeks and pulled her into a kiss.

Maybe she let the world of her father's business consume her before her life had even started. Maybe Brute was right. She was Princess Motherfucking Morebucks. The same girl who used to build rockets and lasers just to destoy the puffs and now she was wasting what should be her reckless party years, doing things she would be doing for the rest of her life.

Brute's hands traveled down until she spun the red head around and kissed her again. Princess’s hands wandered to her neck as she tugged slightly at the spiked collar with a large metal loop.

“There's that wild side.” Brute said against her lips as she pulled her impossible closer while the music played. “I like it.”

Princess couldn’t tell what was driving her insane. The third shot of vodka or the way her lips felt like molten lava, a tingling sensation she had never had before but she was craving it like no other. All her past relationships came into her mind.

Man after man, not one could even bring Princess the satsiaction to even smile. They had all been the one thing she hated most, boring. Fake smiles, only there for her last name and to climb the ranks, that all she was. She was a bank vault that many wanted to access and she had begun to just give up the code, but not anymore. She didn’t want boring and she certainly wouldn’t be that.

Brute was far from it. Piercings and tattoos covered her arm, something her father would disaprove of greatly, and yet she didn’t have a care in the world as she just let the music play on.

Princess kissed her back, enjoying the way the metal lip pieces felt against her lips. It was electrifying and freeing as Brute kissed her neck. She had been captivated by the punk. The way she doted on her like no man had before. She originally thought she was only here for the money, a big fear she kept to herself but although Brute loved cash, she enjoyed the presence of the spoiled girl more.

“I got you something.” Brute whispered in her ear. A shock wave of pleasure jolted through Princess' heart as Brute reached into her pocket and pulled out a velvet box. “I know how much you love chain babes.”

Princess took the box and opened it. It was a silver chain necklace with a small crown charm.

“But I also know that it's not your thing, so I thought something that would remind you of your royal status would do.” She joked but Princess stared at the small necklace with wide eyes.

It was simple and small, yet she felt tears threaten to spill. Her entire life she had been showered with elegant gifts and priceless treasures. She was accustomed to receiving fine things, because it was expected. Sometimes it was underwhelming to constantly get things that never had an emotional value.

She took the necklace out of the wrapping and put it on. The cool metal graced her skin and she felt her cheeks heat up at the sweet gift. She looked up at Brute who had a soft expression, something she wore rarely.

Princess set the box aside and placed her hand against Brute’s cheek.

“It's not diamonds but it will do.” She playfully teased before kissing Brute.

She felt Brute groan against her lips and soon she was laying on top of her.

“You’re still spoiled as ever.” Brute glared as she ran her fingers through the curly ginger locks. “But I still like it.” She winked “Reminds me of when I first saw you beat up that dude.”

“That was two years ago.” Princess blew on her bangs.

Brutes hand lightly slapped her ass making the redhead bury her face in her neck. “Yeah but it was hot.”

Princess hummed. “Whatever. Thank you by the way.” She said the last part quickly.

“Ooooo did I just hear the queen thank me?” Brute laughed and her hands were then held above her head pressing into the sheets. She looked through hooded eyes up at the redhead pinning her from above.

“I’m not repeating myself.” Princess batted her eyelashes. “Now, let's go for a ride.”

“Really? At two a.m?” Brute smirked.

Princess practically jumped off her bed before walking to her closet and changing quickly. She reappeared wearing a short black dress and her own pair of combat boots.

Brute sat up with a smirk and gave a low whistle.

“The nights still young babe.” She said before grabbing Brutes hands and leading out the door to her private garage. Soon her car roared to life and the windows were rolled down as the drove off into the night.

I hope you enjoyed :)

shout out to my lovely betas: Lisa, Aves and Cilla :)

#princess x brute #brute x princess #ppg #princess ppg #brute ppg #thepowerpunkgirls #ppg fic

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chamerionwrites · 4 years

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Oooh, for the WIP meme, tell me about Chewie Deserves Better. (He does, expecially from my auto-correct, who insisted I meant cheque)

(for @sassysnowperson, in case Tumblr is still breaking ask formatting which it probably is)

This is going to turn into a rant about my Chewie feelings but I’m lowkey always annoyed about the way that a lot of Star Wars media treats him more like a pet than a person (and sorry but I loathe the way fandom has codified it by writing countless modern AUs where he is literally Han’s dog). The ST in particular is awful about this. I rarely get the urge to break out Scandalized Mom Voice, but speaking to Chewie is like speaking to your venerable old grandpa if your grandpa were an eight-foot-tall war veteran who fought space fascists; the way much of the cast interacts with him makes me go EXCUSE ME children have some goddamned RESPECT. Like a lot of the flaws in Star Wars I think this one is very present in the OT, too - while the actors play off each other in such a natural way that it sells the character despite the lack of understandable dialogue, the narrative itself treats him like a sidekick (see: the medal ceremony in ANH, or the way the script constantly uses him as a punchline or frames him as unintelligent when the action itself shows him to be clever and capable and full of feeling).

Maybe some people are reading this and going “dude it’s not that deep,” and maybe it’s more glaring if you’ve spent some time in multilingual environments, but personally I just find it super grating when lack of common language is treated as lack of common humanity (or I guess just...personhood, in this case). In theory I actually think the way the OT handles the unsubtitled dialogue is really interesting! But this whole franchise keeps trying to have its cake and eat it too wrt to gesturing at humanocentric prejudice as a metaphor for bigotry and then only treating the human characters like real people, and it makes me spiteful.

Anyway I believe it was this post that ultimately made me throw up my hands and go YOU KNOW WHAT CHEWIE DESERVES? A POV. BECAUSE HE IS A FULL PERSON WITH A RICH INTERIOR LIFE, and Very Decidedly Political feelings about the Empire looting his planet and enslaving his people, fuck off Star Wars. And Solo notwithstanding (though that movie was unusually good on the Chewie-is-a-person front, whatever my other complaints) I’ve always had headcanon about how Han learned to understand Shyriiwook. Namely: Han is a lonely extrovert wrapped in a bundle of coping mechanisms, it was full immersion where he kept up a constant stream of conversation despite having to interpret the replies via hand gestures and Chewie was like (1) holy shit he’s a mess and (2) I’m adopting him (which is a very relatable feeling about Han Solo):

Chewbacca has never intuitively grasped human aging. He knows the rough calculation: multiply by 2.5, except when they’re very old or very young. Precisely what counts as very old or very young is where he has trouble. He looked it up on the holonet and concluded that the human - Han - is roughly Ruwarra’s age, which still doesn’t explain why he chatters like a kit that’s had too much sapwater.

Or - the age Ruwarra was, when last he saw his youngest mother-cousin.

Anyway I haven’t plotted it out yet but the premise is my version of how Han and Chewie met and became bffs, from Chewie’s perspective, with angry feelings about space imperialism and bonus nerd thoughts about language acquisition.

#ask box #chewie: humans are weird as hell and this one in particular. i'm keeping him because i think he might die in the wild #this is exactly how it happened and you all know it #my posts #chewbacca #star wars

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Under Raps

My feelings on this episode are pretty neutral. It’s not anything amazing, but it’s not the worst thing ever either. It’s just there, I guess.

Summary: During a love festival, Corona displays a book full of signatures of lovers in honor of an old ruler's falling in love with the leader of a rival kingdom. Cassandra suddenly turns very secretive; Rapunzel learns it's because she's been seeing a guy named Andrew. Cassandra doesn't want Rapunzel's meddling, but the princess suggests a double date and they all go off in a hot air balloon. However, Andrew turns out to be part of an old faction that didn't like the unification of Corona and wants to steal the book.

This Backstory Doesn’t Add Up

So we open up with Big Nose narrating about the history of a war between Corona and a group of people called the Saporians. This is important for two reasons. First, because the Saporians are reoccurring villains in the show, and secondly, because it reveals where the underground tunnels running between Old Corona and the Island Capital come from. These tunnels are a reoccurring plot device in the show, along with the book that maps them.

The problem is that what the story tells us doesn’t match the other information we are given. If it was only the Saporians who invaded then why does an Old Corona, with its own castle, exist to begin with? Why do the tunnels extend from both if King Herz Der Sonne made them? What purpose did they serve if he was only defending the island? Why are the Saporians led by a general and not a ruler? Why would marrying only a general unite the two kings and where was the Saporian kingdom to begin with? Why did they invade? Why are there still Saporians who haven’t accepted the merger centuries later and why do they live on the go outside the kingdom? If Herz Der Sonne is such a good guy then why did he curse his grave with a zombie apocalypse? Ect.

We keep getting hints throughout the show that Herz Der Sonne isn’t all he was cracked up to be, and you keep expecting a reveal that it was the Coronaians who started the war and oppressed the Saporians and then rewrote history, but it never comes. The show wants us to accept this very black and white conflict at face value even as it constantly undermines itself and muddies the waters.

Pointing Out That Something is Stupid in the Show Itself Doesn’t Make it Any Less Stupid

As I stated back during Rapunzel’s Enemy, the show has a real problem with tone. Constantly showing us festival and holiday after festival and holiday only undermines the more serious elements in the ongoing story and creates mood whiplash. Also anything that reminds me of Cinderella 2 is not a good thing.

Ahh Friedborg, You’re Such a Wasted Opportunity

So she actually first appeared in Cassandra V. Eugene but I forgot to bring her up there. My bad. Friedborg is something of a fan favorite in the TTS fandom, and I like her too, but she adds nothing. She’s a joke character in a tv show already oversaturated by joke characters. More over the joke is actually offensive on some level since it all hinges on her being less conventionally attractive then the other female characters and the mains finding her weird because she never talks.

The show tries to justify her existence by making her Big Nose’s girlfriend, but she’s not who he ended up with in the movie. And once again it’s kind of offensive to imply that only people who don’t match society’s contrived beauty standards can only find love with those that look like them. Thereby completely missing the point of Big Nose’s character arc.

I’ll say it right now, Friedborg should have been Zan Tiri, or Demantius. Take your pick. I think ZT makes more sense, but etheir way she should have been a setup for something more important to the plot rather then just be being a vauge oddity that just pops up from time to time.

I Miss This Version of Eugene

Throughout the first two seasons, Eugene and Cassandra were willing to point out Rapunzel’s BS. Forcing her to confront her flaws and re-examine her positions.I would argue that the show could have pushed this even further but at least it was there. By the final season no one was doing this. Rapunzel is allowed to be as awful as she wants to be without consequence. Meaning she never learns anything and stops growing as a character and the show acts like this a positive thing. It is not. In fact, it is the biggest flaw of the whole show as it fails to achieve the one thing it originally set out to do; which is to tell a coming of age story with Rapunzel.

It also has the added effect of making Eugene a doormat to Rapunzel’s bulling, thereby regressing his character as well and presenting an unhealthy relationship as a goal to be achieved to younger viewers. I can not stress enough to young girls and young men in particular, that Rapunzel and Eugene are not ‘relationship goals’ in this show. Not after season 3.

Xavier Doesn’t Get a Proper Introduction

So Xavier is actually pretty important to the ongoing plot. He’s more or less the exposition fairy for the show, but he’s not really established. He just suddenly appears here with no prior meeting and he just so happens to know what the main characters need to know with no explanation as to how he knows.

His part here is so forgettable that I legit forgot who he was when he reappeared in the mid-season finale. I had thought that the writers just threw in a random character for plot purposes. And to be fair they did. Just they did it here instead of in Queen for a Day.

If the showrunners wanted Xavier to be historian who knows everything and tells stories, then he should have been introduced as the narrator of the history of Hearts Day instead of Big Nose.

Another Lesson Not Learned

We get this big heart to heart moment of Raps and Cass coming to an understanding, with Rapunzel promising not to intrude and Cass promising to being more honest about her feelings. This is walked back on several times and made part of the core conflict of the last two seasons.

Once again, any problem that can be solved in less then five minutes of talking isn’t a strong enough conflict to drive multiple seasons. If this had been a show without an ongoing narrative, like say The Rescue Rangers or even Batman the Animated Series, then the repeated lessons wouldn’t be a problem. We expect characters to be static and to reset after each episode since they’re not shows that you watch in order.

But if you do go the overarching arc route for a story, then people expect lasting character development. Even in shows like Gravity Falls or Steven Universe, where the change is more gradual and the characters do repeat mistakes occasionally, there’s still a marketed change by the end. One that indicates improvement by the characters, and the inter conflicts are never exactly the same each time with exactly the same lesson over and over again.

Oh Look, Cassandra Once Again Achieving her Goal of Validation

Cass is awarded a medal by her father for stopping Andrew. Don’t expect her or the show to remember this.

Also more Cass and Cap interaction that we don’t get to see.

Can We Not Imply That Cassandra Still has a Crush on the Guy Who Lied to Her and Then Almost Killed Her, and Can We Not Act Like This is a Good Thing?

So this flower was given to Cassandra by Andrew and her keeping it makes zero sense.

First off lets not have one of our few strong independent female characters crushing on the show’s stereotypical ‘nice guy’, okay? That’s all kinds of gross. Secondly, if the intention was to show that Cass was now more willing to open up about her feelings, then wouldn’t her keeping one of the gifts Raps made her earlier in the episode make more sense? After all, that’s the relationship that actually matters to Cassandra and is the basis of the whole show.

But this all boils down to the fact that the creator sees Cassandra as straight, always has, and thinks her crushing on the guy who manipulated her is somehow better than ‘no-homo’. Now you can headcanon Cass as whatever you want and ship her with whomever you want, as canon doesn’t matter. But I find it hilarious that most of the head showrunner’s biggest supporters are mainly Casspunzel fans and yet he’s the one who made them ‘sisters’ and sees them as such.

Like I hate to break it to you guys, but a Cass led spin-off headed by Chris won't be the lesbian rep that you’ve always dreamed of. You’re better off just watching the She-Ra reboot.

But things gets even worse when Rapunzel approves of this stupid ‘crush’ ...

Don’t Ever Tell Someone That You’re Proud of Them For Going On a Date

Dating is just something some people choose to do together and some people choose not to engage in that. It’s not an accomplishment and it shouldn’t be treated as such. This is insulting to both people who don’t date, for whatever reason, and to women who hate being being defined by their relationships, which is most of us.

Even if you’re being charitable and try to make this about Cassandra self esteem and her learning she’s worth ‘loving’, which is the reason some people have offered up for this scene, it still falls apart when it’s not established that Cassandra ever had such self esteem issues to begin with and was not looking for romance anyways. And if that is what the show is going for then it’s still problematic to suggest that being found as attractive by someone else is need for self esteem. In fact, that’s kind of the opposite of what self esteem is.

Conclusion

Overall this episode was ‘meh’. Like most season one episodes the problems stem from the ongoing narrative and lack of follow though in later seasons. However there’s enough stuff in here on it’s own to rub me just the wrong way that I can’t actually call it good either.

It doesn’t help that I don’t see the appeal of Andrew at all. Watching the character is just a cringefest for me. He’s too similar to real life men I’ve unfortunately met and therefore sends alarm bells ringing in my head. And I agree with Eugene; he’s not all that handsome.

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-rapunzel #anti-tangled #rapunzel #cassandra #andrew #anti-andrew #eugene

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snow--blanket · 4 years

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little soldier, smaller gods

word count: 4846

fandom: ikemen sengoku

characters: tokugawa ieyasu based off/inspired by leigh bardugo’s work from the language of thorns!! please read it i implore you ***

There is a place where the children knew not to go and where the adults would twist their arms when they tried to. The path there started from gravel, to wooden pickets pledged to the earth, and ends at a dirt path, where it wound like a crooked finger beckoning.

This cottage had the roof tilted unsightly, like an abused seesaw heavy on one side. the windows could only be called such – the aging moss and grime had kept it shut for years and years, and it resembled more like a foggy lens than transparent glass.

In this cottage lived a man. He was old, hunched-over back and his movements were like old machinery. His voice, at the very least, he was still proud of. It rang silver and regal, and whenever he spoke, the words were like breath commanded.

However, such was the cause that had driven away the people around him.

This man was old and lonely, and he lived alone in the shamble of a house he once called a castle. The vacancy in his home bred boredom, and so he chipped away at little crisps of the cracked wall and stole iron wires from a crow’s nest. He melted steel over the hearth of his humble kitchen and it bled into his hands as it did into the molds.

With his coal-ash fingers and his squinted eyes, the old man had created ingenious machinations – one, a clock that told the time by different twittering of different kinds of birds. Second, a mechanical wolf that howled and hunted cotton-like rabbits, and when gnawed on, had raspberry juice flow like blood. The third, gingerbread man that moved and danced on a tightrope, balancing things on its head. Fourth, a roulette wheel of different kinds of murders, and whichever the ball stopped at, it would happen in tandem the next day.

Once, the roulette wheel stopped, and the next day, you could hear the hounds howl silencing the screams of a man being ripped from stomach to crotch. His blood flowed like raspberry.

It seemed more than a little pathetic for an old man to tinker with toys, and still, still, his empty little heart desired company. Company, most of all, to admire his genius inventions, to awe at his skill. He wanted an audience.

And so the old man’s hunched back bent over once more, his baked hands and his sight – strained like lemon being juiced – he created a toy soldier, decorated with six buttons on his uniform and a medal crested onto his lapel.

Tokugawa Ieyasu, he said into the empty air, gazing at his creation. That is your name. You have been made to protect me, to serve me, and to bring me glory.

The green soldier started moving, it’s fabricated limbs now stretching like clay, and appeared before him was a soldier whose eyes would only observe green, and the hair dyed from the petals of a sunflower.

The old man sent the toy soldier to guard the front of his crooked house, as crooked houses attracted the crooked and the morbidly curious.

Ieyasu stood dutifully under the loom of the tilted roof as shade with his hand dutifully at his waist, a ready grip at the hilt of his sword.

When curious children came, he unsheathed his sword and swung in an arc, a warning. The children yelled and skittered away back into the village, and they would tell their mother and fathers about a little toy soldier with a sword in his hands.

The mothers would go, Oh yes, my dears, I’m sure it was, and roll their eyes at them. Now, would you like to tell me the real reason for the dirt on your knees and the scraped elbow?

The fathers would let them be, saying that a little adventure never hurt anyone. But still, late at night in the pubs, you could hear the exchanges between men regarding this fellow soldier with a sword, about the war that passed yet was still in the hesitance in their voices and the matchlock rifles hidden under the creaky floorboards, if only you stepped the right way. There are wolves, they’d say. Dangerous times for us all, and no wolf will eat my child. Still, they couldn’t help the lingering feeling that it was not so simple.

They were right.

Ieyasu reported back to his master, and he frowned. “It seems you’ve scared them away,” he’d said disapprovingly. Ieyasu did not understand. Was that not what he was made for?

The old man set foot in his room once more, engineering himself a painful brace to straighten his posture and screwed in teeth as glossy as steel into his bloody gums, his magnificence only slightly overwhelmed by the yells and rips of pain he’d vocalised, muffled only by an old, wooden door.

The next day, it was observed that the old man no longer looked old — his bearing was upright as to effect a soldier’s, and his teeth were gleaming and his hands were dusted in powder so as to rid the burnt charcoal and molten ire that had been engraved into them.

Ieyasu was ordered to venture forth into the forest, now. “Farther, into the forest, there is a beast of which can only be slain by the likes of you,” his master said, and crested upon his lapel another medal. It was only Ieyasu left. The gingerbread man had gone missing, and the roulette wheel went unspun a long time ago.

Ieyasu felt his lungs fill with pride and marched on forwards into the forest once more, the steady thump-thump-thump of his heart beating to the drums of war.

Time passed like this, and the mystery thickened around the crooked house with the old man whose posture was dignified and commanded respect, and the voice to charm them so. The deeper into the forest Ieyasu went, the more people took notice of a soldier in the forest, with his nimble fingers and white teeth.

Finally, a group of scampering adults said enough was enough, and decided to open the closet lay in the monster. They took upon the pitchforks — sharpened like fangs of some beast — and swished here and there, chancing upon the crooked house.

When they barged into the house, they were greeted by the smell of honey lemon tea brewing, the miraculous lights strung from both end of walls, even as there was no generator or power source anywhere in sight. The floorboards were shined like glazed cake in caramel, and the windows, more window-like, were open, letting the smell and sights waft out.

“I see we have an audience,” said the old man, who did not look old. His smile showed his polished, refined teeth, and the townspeople became all the more wary. “Sit down, why don’t you? The tea is almost done.” One might have thought it was a suggestion, had they not hear the voice that carried it.

This is the problem with lesser demons. They dress in tailcoats and emblazoned suits, are pleasant conversation partners, smiled when needed and laughed little, so as to captivate the young ladies and make older women clutch at their handkerchiefs in bashfulness. They do not show their horns until you are impaled in it.

Ieyasu, however, was still deep in the forest and rested under the shade, shifting his sword to a more comfortable position.

A beast, thought Ieyasu. A beast that can only be slain by the likes of me.

The likes of me. What exactly did that mean? He let his eyes rest on the sword by his side. Weaponised? A soldier? Perhaps both?

He didn’t notice the wind this time, did not hear the high laughter of an old friend bark at him.

He thought he heard the howl of a wolf somewhere, and the trees that once gave him shade lent to him darkness he found difficult to accept. “Who’s there?” he asked, his sword unsheathed in one swift movement.

The darkness answered, and a shape moved towards him. He felt the grip on his sword tense. An enemy! The first he’d slay.

He thought about the medal crested on his chest. A beast that can only be slain by the likes of you.

The shape moved, darkness peeling off its body like second skin. “I am not an enemy, sir. I come in peace.”

Peace? No enemy would be one with peace. “Lies! Unsheath your sword!”

“I do not possess such things,” said the shape. It moved closer and closer, out of the darkness, and into the light. Ieyasu’s hand trembled.

The shape was shaped like a human, at least like the humans children drew on sand with sticks. Except…. “I apologise,” said Ieyasu.

The gingerbread man smiled, his how-many-days frosting, which once smelled like vanilla pods, now a smudge on his face, like the crying cottage, leaking out from it’s corners. His arms were gone, the edges bitten out by some zig-zagged teeth, and whenever he walked, crumbs followed him like a second shadow.

“It is no bother. I have no need for these arms, anyway.” The gingerbread man’s eyes smiled, frosting eyes curved like a crescent moon inverted. He looked at the sword Ieyasu still held. “Though it seems you do.”

“Yes,” said Ieyasu, and his lungs filled with pride again, his jaw cut sharp like shrapnels. “I've come to slay the beast that terrorizes this forest.” His tone was somber, as if he wanted to give the gingerbread man his own sword – to protect himself. “And the one that inflicted on you pain.”

The gingerbread man’s eyes were pitying, two pricks of eyes of black that looked at him as if he was the one without arms. “It wasn’t the beast that made me so. It was myself.”

“What?”

“Have you ever wanted something, soldier?”

“I live to protect other people, and my master. It is my duty and my honour.” The words felt familiar and came easy.

”It started when i wanted something, you see. I was a mere gingerbread man, yet I was used as a toy placed on a string. He stacked books on my head and magical, glassy balls with it’s hook pierced into my hands. I wanted to be eaten, and I felt myself move. Then, I wanted to eat. so I used one of my hands and broke the brittle arm of the other, and I ate it.”

“You are crazed,” warned Ieyasu. “Return with me. My master will fix you anew.”

“Crazed I may be, I wanted it.” The gingerbread man looked at him. “Is there nothing you want, soldier?”

“I want to protect my master and my people.”

“And when he finds another soldier?” asked the gingerbread man. “If your people find another hero, and your sword will not be yours?”

“I—” A beast that can only be slain by the likes of you. He had said that. The likes of him. “That is impossible.” The likes of him. There was only one him, after all.

“Like a humble treat like myself might move?”

“You are—” The likes of you. “We are different from each other.” Ieyasu snarled, but he was not able to hide away his confusion. “I am loyal.”

“Maybe you are.” The gingerbread man nodded, and then tilted his head. “Perhaps instead of telling me to return, ask yourself why you remain.”

“You are supposed to be nothing but a juggling toy,” hissed Ieyasu.

“That is the will your master has exerted upon me. I danced on the line he tied, and I walked at his command. But at night, when he is not watching, I tore pages from the books that would be my burden, and in doing so I thought: why not another page? Why not another book? Why not shatter another glasspiece?”

“That is greed,” said Ieyasu. “I am not greedy.”

“And nor are you righteous.” He looked at him differently this time, like he was nothing but an innocent cookie nibbled by the cupboard rats. “Tell me your name, soldier.”

“Ieyasu. Tokugawa Ieyasu.”

“I see. What master do you serve?”

That was an obvious question. “Master—” But he couldn’t remember. Or had he known it at all? His master never called himself by anything but. Ieyasu remembered the moments where his master picked him up and laid him down somewhere high, and there he saw many people like his master enter the room. They hadn’t called him by any name either. “I don’t…know. but he is my king nonetheless.”

Speaking of which, a king of which kingdom? He hadn’t seen any other soldiers in the barracks, only he. But, well, given his master’s private disposition, it was only to be expected that he only trusted one soldier as his guard.

“I see,” said the gingerbread man. “And what of your medals? What was the first one for?”

Ieyasu looked at his lapel. “The first one—” the first medal that had been crested onto him, the first of everything. He’d slain the beast, he had killed a wolf once, one whose teeth shone like knives, and claws that tore at his arm, removing it from it’s sockets and two creatures howled in pain that night. And yet. Yet, his arm was here. Which wars had he won? What put the honour on his chest, this medal? “I do not recall,” said Ieyasu.

The gingerbread man looked at him softly, and Ieyasu imagined that look was the kind one might give to a child. “I live with ants now, can you believe it? It seems there’s use to my balancing act, after all.” the gingerbread man turned on his heel and started to disappear into the shadows of the trees. “I hope you can find yourself, little soldier.”

“I am not little!” yelled Ieyasu to the darkness. The wind howled then, a barking laughter that silenced the voice of a whining child.

He didn’t understand. He was Tokugawa Ieyasu. He remembered this. His master was….his master. His king. He used to slay beasts, vanquish the evil in the name of protecting his master. He remembers the pain of his arm being torn, the pain of being snapped in half like brittle candles. So why? Why couldn’t he answer? Why hadn’t he?

In the end, Tokugawa Ieyasu chose to slay the beast. Indeed, he was Tokugawa Ieyasu in the end, and who he served did not matter. He was a soldier, and he had a duty. He was to defeat the evil, protect the good, return to his master with another medal on his chest and the heart of the monster in his hands.

Ieyasu stepped into the darkness once more, in search of the beast. It did not take long. Once he stepped into the shadows, it felt like an overbearing something was pressing to his sides, and there was a heavy stone in his chest, weighing itself in the cavity of his lungs.

His feet brought him to the entrance of a cave, where it smelled like rotten flesh of a man whose insides were torn at and the scent of decay that followed suit. It was here. The beast was here.

Although he wanted to pinch his nose, it wasn’t very soldierly of him. Yes; this, too, was part of his hurdle, part of the challenge in loyalty. He had to remain unwavering. He gripped his sword tighter. “Beast!” he yelled, and the sound echoed, like the cave was whispering on his behalf as to silence the doubts in his mind. “I've come for your head!”

Instead of a powerful howl that shook the trees, what answered was a whimper. A dog came lumbering, dragging along its weight like a ball and chain. “You’re here again, boy.” said the dog, and Ieyasu flinched, reflex lost to instinctual fear at the sight that met him.

The dog had two heads, parted at the middle like a tree branching east and west. He returned to his stance once more, noticing the blood that stained it’s gums, it’s yellow teeth like bones hollowed and sharpened.

He pointed his sword onto the dog, a challenge. “What did you mean by ‘again’? Was there another soldier before me?” he pushed forth, courage bought by the blade. “Did you eat him alive as well?”

“It has never been more than one,” said the dog, both heads speaking, and their voices overlapped like the cave that echoed. Caves of caves, voices on top of voices. “What did he make you into this time, boy?” Both heads tilted, like the slanted roofs, like wilting plants.

“He made me into a soldier,” This, he said with confidence, for it was an irrefutable fact, no matter what anybody else said. “I see. Then a soldier you must be until a soldier you are no more.”

One head twisted, warped like kitchen towels rung out to dry, and the blood squeezed out of it and watered the ground, dripping, dripping, dripping, like an overfilled kettle bubbling with foam and overflowing. The tendons stretched like gum, stretched in an unsightly way Ieyasu knew could not be right.

Plop! One head of the dog fell to the earth, and it presented itself to Ieyasu like the silence of graves, like the smell of death masked by smoke. Something choked at his throat – a lump had made itself home there, and Ieyasu was no heavy eater, but he felt like he might throw up whatever he had for breakfast.

“Well?” asked the dog, eyes like blood moons. “You have my head. On you go, boy.” the dog retreated into the cave, and his voice echoed. “Be careful of the master you serve.” Voices on top of voices, doubts on top of doubts.

Ieyasu picked up the severed head of the dog, and its eyes stared back at him like it was truly alive. He turned his heel, remembering that it was nearing night, that his master was waiting.

All the way back to the house of his master, there was no satisfaction to be found. What happened to heroism, to conquering fear? His hand still shook like a creature of fear and his heart pounded like a jackrabbit caught in some wolf’s fangs. Even with the medal crested upon his lapel, he could not ignore the feeling that he did not deserve….whatever he got.

“I've returned with the beasts’ head.” These words, although sounded vain, were shame that stuck itself to the roof of his mouth, like moss to the ceiling.

His master smiled, and even that couldn’t soothe his heart rate. “Good work,” he said. His master took the head from him, and the act was disturbingly casual. He gently guided Ieyasu away, back into his room with his work table. “Rest,” he cooed. “You must be tired.”

Ieyasu found that he was tired, and stifled a yawn. “If you’ll excuse me.” The thrill of one whole day wore him down, and the beat of his heart followed the humming of his master’s.

Ieyasu sat down on the chair, and he closed his eyes. Drowsiness took him – but before it could do so, he heard the high voice of a child in his master’s room. Of course, he had not been there to protect his master, and now some child had wormed its way into his master’s castle!

Ieyasu leapt to his feet, and his unsheathed sword sliced the midnight air. With rickety, careful steps, he approached the opening of the door, the light cutting the darkness in one thin line. Ieyasu steadied his breath, tightened his grip, squared his shoulders.

“Your name,” The voice of his master sounded through the wooden doors, and Ieyasu halted. “Is Tokugawa Ieyasu.” Ieyasu felt the air leave his body, felt the blood drain him like he was one of the rabbits in the mechanical wolf’s jaws, makeshift blood spilling onto the grass. “You have been made to protect me, to serve me, and to give me glory.”

Ah, yes, this feeling. He remembers this feeling, remembers the stone in his lungs and breakfast threatening to exit his stomach the way it came. Ieyasu covered his mouth, a sourness taxing his tongue.

The likes of you. He remembers these words well. The likes of him. What did that mean? His master had created another toy. With the same name, with the same voice that had commanded his movements. Tokugawa Ieyasu, he called it.

Another soldier. Another one like him?

Ieyasu crept to the door, the glazed caramel floors now looking murky and like the rust of gears, as if showing their true colours in the night. Ieyasu had never stepped a foot outside at night before, but…. the likes of you. The likes of him. The words resounded in his head, and he needed answers.

He did not count his steps as he usually did, did not follow his legs to the beat of war drum in his heart, a memorised tune. He ran until his legs were weary, ran until all the breath in his body spilled to the cold air, ran like a thief under the watch of moonlight.

When he arrived at the cave, he yelled. “Beast!” the sound echoed, the night wind paying no heed to the haste in his voice. “Come out of your cave!”

The darkness answered with a howl, and Ieyasu unwittingly took a step back. Unpeeled by the moonlight, a shape resembling the dog moved forward. Once it revealed itself, Ieyasu felt that sensation again, his tight chest, his body a scale weighed by stones. “You are not the beast,” his thoughts could come up nothing braver than ones that had slipped forth.

The beast — now true to its name — howled heavenwards, as if answering the beck of some god that had come calling, answering to the moon that was their witness. ��I am a beast by night,” the wolf snarled. “Your master made it so.”

That was impossible. But was it really? Ieyasu had remembered the gingerbread man, remembered his master’s voice calling another his own name. “I do not understand. My master— he has created another soldier. please–” Ieyasu was not beyond begging now, with his shaken core and his forested eyes like trembling leaves. “–please help me.”

“I told you, soldier. It has never been more than one.” The wolf looked at Ieyasu pitifully. “You are the same boy that has returned to me again and again, seeking my head on the orders of your master. Perhaps the soldier your master created is simply a toy.” The wolf tilted its head curiously, and it resembled the kind of curiosity he’d seen in children. “And perhaps you are one too.”

Ieyasu wanted to open his mouth to reject the words, but before he could the wolf had pounced on him, digging his fangs into his arm. Ieyasu screamed in pain, trying to shake the wolf off him, but it would not budge.

“Help!” he screamed, hoping the night would take his voice far. “Someone help me!” the wolf would not budge. My sword, he thought. Where is my sword? Ieyasu’s eyes scattered until he felt up the hilt of the sword nudging his ribs, and slowly, his right hand took hold of it.

Ieyasu swung the sword and the wolf, barely scratched his muzzle, a small slice comparable to a child’s papercut. Ieyasu swung blindly into the night; hoping that it would hit, somehow. He had little options, he thought uselessly.

In the perimeter of his eyes he saw the slight glint of ruby catching moonlight – like fragmented pieces of gems had come to his call for mercy. Thousands – thousands of ants had approached him, and they all came to swarm the wolf biting at his arm.

From the darkness, the ants were led by an armless gingerbread man, whose voice carried the weight of more souls than Ieyasu. It was incomprehensible, surely. Why? he wanted to ask. Why you? Why am I not the saviour? What have I done wrong?

It is no bother. I have no need for these arms anyways. He remembered the words of the gingerbread man, and realised why he had not needed swords. He had allies. An army. His blade was in pieces, and it remolded itself into blood steel when he needed them.

“Run!” yelled the gingerbread man. “Run, little soldier!”

So he did. And oh – what a disgusting feeling it was! He hoped that his legs would sag. He hoped his breaths would stop. He hoped for his heart to be squeezed out of his chest. How cowardly was he? A soldier in name, a coward at heart. He wished regret or justice made his body linger, but he ran like a coward until his sweat was condensation in the air.

When he arrived back home, his master had looked at him like he knew he was out the entire time. “You’re sweating. You must be tired.”

“Master, I—” Indeed, as if the air was purchased back into his lungs and the trembling in his arms stilled like dead wood, Ieyasu became all the more tired and drowsy by the second. Still, he had to find answers. He could not sleep until he got them. “Master. I did not slay the beast.”

His smile was as deceitful as the smiling moon. “Yes, I know.”

Ieyasu’s heart ached. “Then why did you…” Ieyasu gulped. “How did you know?”

His master tugged at his hand, leading him to a supply closet full of old, unused toys. There were several lines of nutcrackers, a dusty doll in disrepair with it’s eye gouged out. “Because I created it. I created you.”

Created. Not employed. He was not a soldier. He was a toy. “That is impossible,” said Ieyasu. “My heart beats. My hands shake. I bleed red.”

“You move as much as the gears in a clock do, and bleed like breaking dams of a river. You are as alive as either.”

“You are stolen,” his master said. “I kidnapped you from the village and fed you clay and ash, shaped your fingers that would perfectly fit a blade. You stand still when I do not wish for you to move, and you are tired when I say you are.”

“No. No!” But he felt his throat choke on sawdust, the ashen gunpowder coating the film of his mouth and his tongue tasting steel. His arms were harder to move, as if walking through mud.

“You are a hero,” he said finally, and Ieyasu felt that cowardice come forth again. “You return to me with the beast’s head everytime I tell you to, and another medal will be embedded into your chest.”

So it was simply smokes and mirrors, then. He was to dance for his master, to perform. He realised then that he was not a soldier, but an actor.

“You are nothing more than a toy,” his master whispered, and were his words not immortal? “And nothing more will you become when I do not think of you.”

Ieyasu didn’t know exactly when he’d felt hatred for his master fester. Perhaps it was the hard, lonely rock carved out of someone who had too much darkness with them.

Months passed and Ieyasu could only barely be conscious as the days blurred together. He reminded himself of what he wanted. He was Tokugawa Ieyasu. He was no soldier, but he was an actor, at the very least.

The villagers stopped coming by his master’s house. They heard rumours. The house is haunted, they say. There are corpses under the caramel floorboards, they whisper. But it was simply an excuse, for no one could tolerate his company and the way he spoke like royalty. Mysteriously, more and more kids went missing around the vicinity, so they chose not to risk it. The village patrols were much too frightened of the wolves at night to ever conduct a search of the toymaker’s house.

Eventually, the passing of time made the house as rotten as he, and the toymaker died in the hinges of a wolf’s fangs, the roulette wheel stopping: death by loss of blood.

With time, more villagers came to the house – the weeping mothers in mourning of their children, and the rowdy teenagers in search of a dare.

Ieyasu remembers each and every one of their wishes, whispered into the eerie air. He is an actor. He would perform for those who would watch. And so, he took upon those wishes and could barely muster a voice, not at all serene and all knowing, But a voice that had seen the many wandering souls and the secrets and bodies they’d buried.

Now, Ieyasu waits in hiding. He bides his time with every new morning, waiting for a prayer of some lovestruck fool or greedy, traitorous bastard waiting to stab his master in the back.

He never has to wait long.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen fanfic #ikesen writing

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crqstalite · 5 years

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pt. 9, into the lion’s den pt. 2 (andronikos && mierrio)

mierrio and tri’ama have arrived on the scene, but not exactly on good terms with each other. what kind of shenanigans will they get up to this time?

psa: i love my imperial toons but one thing they all have in common is some sort of abusive backstory. it’s like a requirement to be part of the empire and it was never intended.

another psa: pretta n kal were made for the sole purpose of romancing theron (kal at least).

another psa: fandom, please write more andronikos fanfictions. i would do it myself but then all of tumblr would know of my insane exploits with mierrio n her pirate husband. i’m deprived of them n i need them now. ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

character song: truth hurts, lizzo

character file: darth nox, mierrio revel

“i always did hate alderaan.” ashara shivers as she pulls her robes over her tighter. mierrio would have to get the fury’s temperature regulator fixed, and soon. hopefully, that was one of andronikos’ talents, because the three humans (and one non-human) suffered through the cold nights, unlike the nearly silent kaleesh and dashade.“now we have to stay here?”

“if it bothers you so much, bulk up on thermal clothing.” mierrio says, putting on her own thermal coat. force user or not, darth nox wasn’t exactly made for the cold, and she secretly despises this trip just as much as her apprentice does. given, she and her husband did all sorts of things that could get her blood rushing, whether in the bedroom or on the battlefield, and considering they were on a war-filled planet (political and physical), she’d get plenty of both. she smirked before hiding it behind a cough at the thought. “it’s only for a week.”

“plus, you’ll be on the fury most of the time anyways.” talos says absentmindedly, researching something while khem val milled around the cargo hold before disappearing into the darkness. talos side steps the kaleesh as he passes by with some sort of ancient tablet, muttering something in anothr language. “we both will.”

“i figure that, but if i ever need anything i’ll have to leave the ship.” the togruta responds, groaning inwardly. “why are we here again?”

“peace talks, or somethin’. you two are lucky, you’re not the escort.” andronikos responds from the sofa. “dealin’ with sith day in and day out, questionin’ why ‘someone like you’ is with a dark council member.” he shrugs as mierrio considers this. he’s not inaccurate, though she figures it something she needs to take up with her fellow sith. her pirate, her rules, and they didn’t get a say in who she chose to love. not when she was one of the most powerful sith in the room. “when are we leaving, by the way?” he asks, turning to her.

��we can leave now, they have our room ready.” she says. subsequently, he gets up as she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. she really should tie her hair up, it’s getting annoyingly long so that it hangs in front of her face if she bends over to tie her boots. however, mierrio is also aware of just how childish it looks tying up the baby hairs in the back, and chooses to suffer instead. letting the bridge down, she steps out into the spaceport’s spacious hangar. ashara isn’t wrong, it’s relatively chilly even through her coat. but, alderaan is absolutely beautiful as long as you’re not in a warzone. she intends to visit any vacation spot she can while on this godforsaken trip.

a few moments later as she scrolls through her datapad (the details give her a headache, if the wrath wasn’t also attending, she might as well skip out completely), she feels an arm snake around her waist as she stumbles backwards into her husband’s arms. “we’re really headin’ into the lion’s den, huh sith?” he asks after helping her stand straight, they begin walking in the direction of the elevator.

“are you scared, andronikos?” she asks, curving her lip upwards in a barely concealed smile. she’s completely aware of what her so called 'kind’ can do, especially to someone as force blind as her husband. they aren’t feared by the republic for nothing.“what’s the worst they can do?”

he doesn’t seem amused as she runs a hand through her hair, slipping the datapad back into her bag among her other things. “uh, sith? did you miss the whole 'force sensitive’ and 'could murder me with a pinky?’ part?”

“i haven’t killed you yet.” she says, leaning her head into the crook of his neck as they enter the elevator. he rolls his dark colored eyes good naturedly as she chuckles to herself. she couldn’t ever imagine lying a hand on her husband. well, she could, they sparred from time to time (she of course, gained the upper hand nearly instantly. but sometimes he played dirty in the best ways, in which she’d have to call a draw), but in a real fight she’d never do so. seeing a look of genuine terror from him was something mierrio had yet to witness.

“yet?” he asks, mock concerned as he puts a hand on his chest. “what, you plannin’ this pirate’s death already?”

“i’d never.” mierrio responds jokingly, stepping out of the elevator into the busy atrium of the alderaanian spaceport. “and should they lay a hand upon you, i shall show them why i am darth nox.” she gives him what she attempts to make a comforting smile that turns into an ill-intended smirk. nobles mill about as they make their way outside, dressed in an array of colors and array of styles, and she makes a mental note to do some shopping before they leave. andronikos doesn’t see, but her heart nearly stops as she witnesses a human with what seems as a stick in his hands ten or so feet away. three females follow close behind, and she’s halfway to shocking the man once she realizes that the silver metal sticking out of one of the women’s collars is none other than a shock collar. her delicate hands go for her own neck as the red twi'lek woman stops to look at her, staring out over the crowd. there’s inelligible yelling for a moment before she collapses to the ground in uncontrollable shaking and mierrio’s breath hitches.

“mier?” andronikos puts a hand on her shoulder as she jolts her attention back to the issue at hand. the twi'lek woman and her captor disappear into the background of the taxi pad, and in a moment of fear, her hand goes for her lightsaber and another hand on andronikos’.

“i-i’m fine.” her voice hardens unintentionally, once she catches his eye, loosening her grip on her lightsaber. sparks fly for a moment as she buries her hands in her coat, anger flowing through her veins for the young woman in physical and metaphorical chains. she had just been talking about wounding andronikos, nearly shocking him in her panic. “just fine.”

the dark skinned pirate looks at her in mild confusion and then concern. his gaze meets where hers had been, but he didn’t catch the slavemaster or didn’t say anything. shrugging, he pays for their taxi and they’re off across the plains of kaamos territory. he’s talking, but it keeps getting swept away by not only the wind, but also her own intrusive thoughts.

mierrio wasn’t a slave without scars. electrocution wasn’t unusual, and the skin on her neck reflects it. purple veins run along her throat, and though they’ve faded, some have alluded to her that they flare when she uses high voltage.

the weight of the collar, the chance of being put back into one of those things. the breath that is stolen from her when electricity flows through her veins.

the body of her previous master, after she turned it on him. after a particular electrocution event on balmorra with an imperial officer, in two seconds flat purple lightning escaped her fingertips. he writhed on the floor, gasping out for help as he took his dying breaths. she, of course, stole his jacket to warm her cold body in the outpost of sobrik, her fifteen year old self playing with the shiny medals that adorned his jacket as the last of life left his body.

at least until the mysterious sith came for her, as she ate the last box of chocolate the man had stashed away for his whore of a wife. three days, she’d stayed there, afraid should anyone know of her crime that they’d kill her. turn her into a prison, torture her.

she was still scared of herself, as sparks leapt from her fingers every once in a while.

someone had turned her in as a force sensitive, and years later, she suspected it was the officer or as previously mentioned, his wife. the cameras had watched her every move for years, it was hard to believe they weren’t watching then.

the teenage inquisitor hadn’t understood what she’d done, the man she had killed. she was free of this master, for good. mierrio hadn’t known she was force sensitive, she didn’t know just how powerful she was. what lurked just beneath the surface of her dark intentions, a mystical force bubbling up through her fingers.

even so, it’s not as if she can escape her past. this is who she is, and she doesn’t intend to let anyone put another leash on her. metaphorical, or physical.

she must look so absolutely angry that andronikos stops talking after a while. he’s gotten good at that, knowing when sometime is a bad time. as it stands, he’s recognized this time as one, though she’s sure he’ll want to know what’s wrong with her once they get to their room in the palace. over the nice temperature regulated bedroom and changed into a nice set of pajamas, she’s sure she’ll admit to whatever she’s feeling at the moment. but the cool wind whips her chapped lips, and she returns to the issue at hand. thul peace talks.

eventually, they land in the palace courtyard. the scene isn’t much different from the spaceport, except much, much busier. dark robes brush by as her boots crunch in the snow. she figures other sith lords have arrived before she has (of course, a fashionably late interest is the usual for darth nox). she looks around for a moment as she unbuckles her belt, andronikos stepping out of the taxi.

and, a certain blonde sith is waiting by the courier droid with her name written out. mierrio groans in annoyance, as the wrath shifts her position to cross her arms. respirator, boots and all, she stands at a haughty 5"6 draped in black armor, three inches taller than her. she allows andronikos to take her hand and help her out of the taxi as the droid takes their bags, standing face to face with the imposing female. “my lord.” the blonde sith curtly nods.

“wrath.” she says just as coldly. mierrio hadn’t had many good interactions with a lot of sith on the council (nor a lot of interactions, like a certain darth hexid she prefers the finer things in life instead of the general stupidity and betrayal of the council), and the wrath happened to be one of them. insanely powerful with the force (though not a sorceror), the wrath was apparently a shoo in at the academy, and was an apprentice of the late darth baras.

and subsequently, his killer.

many assumed that she was a man, given her strong stature and less, say, assets in the female department. however, those who had come into contact with the brutish warrior had quickly fallen back on their gender-lined insults. funnily enough, she was eventually married to none other than an intelligence agent, even though some lower ranked sith lords assumed she was a butch lesbian due to her personality and the fact she never lasted in relationships with men. they placed bets on how long they would last, and mierrio was still collecting on the bets they’d last only for a few weeks at best. it’d been four years.

and, at the end of it all, she had the audacity to be merciful. merciful to those that didn’t deserve it. what sith would be such a way? and why? why have so much power, and not use it to instill fear into the galaxy?

given, this was all based off gossip, but she often didn’t have much else to be doing, so it entertained her to an extent. well, most of it was. she’d been assigned to a post with the wrath on taris, and she disapproved of every choice she made. for quite a bit, she made it her mission to corrupt ashara just to spite the merciful sith lord. it was somewhat successful, though her corruption only went as far as to be a 'grey jedi’.

to rub it in, down the grapevine she found that the wrath had managed to corrupt a jedi padawan to the dark side. successfully, and with little resistance! kriffing hell, mierrio was just that sure she’d only done it to spite her.

“your room has been prepared for your stay. i have been assigned to escort you to the palace.” the woman says, garbled a bit through her respirator. mierrio had yet to find out why she wore the thing (it was an ugly shade of grey and black with highlights of red, and she wasn’t suffering from some uncurable cancer eating away at her lungs), but possibly she wore it as a decorative piece. there were no current family members (other than a certain malavai quinn) related to the wrath, so it was most definitely not ornamental.

and how she knew? well, the family of the wrath would be well compensated, given their daughter having such a high rank in the sith order. they’d be public by now. and they’re not.

“thank you, wrath. but i did not need an escort into the palace, i’ve been here before.” she responds, hooking her arm onto andronikos’. “i’m sure you have something else to be bothering yourself with, so get on with it.”

“..of course, my lord.” the colbalt blue eyes harden into that of dark sapphire (a sign of her unwilling submission) as mierrio passes. the wrath crosses her arms before heading back the other direction.

“you want to talk about that?” andronikos asks as she pulls him along inside the palace, a bit more forcefully than intended, “i thought all you sith were chummy with each other.”

“darth thanaton?” she raises an eyebrow once she lets go of his arm, pushing a curl of dark hair behind her ear as she sheds her thermal coat. “andronikos, unlike the jedi council, we do not do 'friends’. we make alliances to better our power bases, and the wrath is on my list of people i want no alliance with.”

“got a reason? he seems nice enough.” there’s a groan of possible jealousy behind that she chooses to ignore, as he misgenders the sith, “given, not every man is as nice as me.”

“that was not a 'he’, that is the emperor’s wrath.” she responds, as they wade through the crowded lobby. it seems as if every servant in the palace has come down to gawk at the arriving sith lords, and she unintentionally picks up the pace to hurry to the elevator. it’s not until her boots are clicking on the polished floor of the relatively quiet third floor that she slows down.

“what’s got your panties in a twist, mier? did she do something to you?” he asks, as the enter the finely decorated room. locking the door behind her, he sheds his own coat as her fingers tap over the electronic thermostat. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you receive a sith so badly.”

“that’s because i rarely 'receive’ sith unless i need to. are you not aware of the lack of sith we visit?” she asks, as she stretches a crick out of her neck, skipping his unanswered question. it’s not long before andronikos descends upon her, arms wrapped around her waist as he nips at the exposed skin of her neck as she pushes her hair to the opposite side of her head. “don’t fret, i’ve only ever had eyes for you.”

“glad to hear it.” his voice grows husky as she turns to face him, kissing him roughly. she’s not per se calmer than she was before landing or arriving to the palace (andronikos sadly doesn’t always have that effect on her), but the rush of endorphins is enough to forget the day’s earlier events. “hate to think there’s someone else out there with eyes for you.”

“i’ll always belong to you, first and foremost.” as the words leave her lips, she regrets them. mierrio despises the idea of ever 'belonging’ to someone ever again. she’d like to say that it doesn’t apply to andronikos, that’s he’s her one, handsome exception.

but he’s not. she’s terrified she’s going to wake up one day and she’s going to be married to a man who would take advantage of her at every turn. that this marriage is going to turn into a relationship of abuse.

although they both have issues with commitment, she lets the moment happen. he must notice her hesitation, because he doesn’t press any further. "nikky, as much as i love you, i do have responsibilities to the council. i’ve arrived late as it is.“

he mock whines, not letting her go, but allowing her enough space to lean her forehead to his. "it’s the middle of the afternoon, what do you mean sith?”

“we’re nearly two days late. we should’ve left a couple of days ago, hence why the wrath came to get us.” she responds. “peace talks have already begun, and to be honest, i would’ve skipped it if darth vowrawn didn’t send me a nice holo saying i should be here already.” he seemed quite stern with her when the recorded holo was sent, and she figured it wasn’t worth losing her council seat if she had to spend a few days on the wartorn planet. what could she say? being a darth who not only rid the galaxy of a body-hopping sith, but also thanaton? she liked the perks that came with being feared.

“alright, alright.” he lets go of her, a mischeveous grin on her face. “doesn’t mean you’re leaving me here all by my lonesome tonight, right mier?”

“alderaan has some beautiful sights, we can visit the market tonight, then the cantina.” he seems confused by her answer as she winces trying to undo her bra from under her shirt. “then, we’ll see what this bed can handle.”

he chuckles. “alright sith. arm still bothering you?”

“oh, how did you know?” she asks, frowning. she’d worn the lacy thing on the flight down with no intention of actually taking it off, but she figured if she were going to a peace talk meeting, she’d like it plenty better if her breasts weren’t constantly chafing on the old lingerie. “would you unhook it for me?”

“don’t have to ask me twice.”

she ended up twenty minutes late for the next portion of the peace talks, but a lot happier than she would’ve been should she not have taken a pit stop in her bedroom before coming to conference room. sith outside whispered here and there, and of course the thul nobles were nothing short of oblivious as she arrived. choosing a seat next to an empty seat, everyone quieted. “nox, it’s good to see you here.” a silent 'finally’ was aired at the end of vowran’s sentence.

“of course. i would never miss such an important meeting.” she smiles knowingly as the other sith frowns.

“well, we were just discussing your portion of earning thul’s trust.” ravage responds, picking up the awkwardly finished conversation. “as darth of ancient knowledge, you’ll be assisting them with the damages caused by a certain…bounty hunter years prior. identify what you can, as others have mentioned they can sense a datacron in the area.”

her ears perk up. a datacron? given, she’s never had the best luck with ancient artifiacts (see: zash, talos, force ghosts trying to take over her body etc, etc.), but to gain ancient knowledge is absolutely fascinating. she’s not looking for another tenant in her body, but possibly this one will be friendly. “show alde’s curators you’re willing to help them, and forge an alliance with them if you can.”

“great.” she sits a bit straighter, assignment gained. now she can go and spend the rest of the night very far from here. “can i leave now?”

“the wrath hasn’t arrived.” her mood drops considerably at the mention of the female sith, who is just perfectly, missing at the moment. her eye twitches at the thought.

“the wrath? what does she have to do with this?” she chuckles coldly.

“why, she’ll be assisting you with this mission. you specialize in ancient history, and if your reputation does not precede you, then the wrath will strike some much needed fear into them.” vowran finishes. mierrio is quite sure that he knows of their unofficial rivalry, and is pitting them against each other.

“finding a datacron? is that what i heard you say?” it’s twitching, it’s most definitely twitching as she turns to see the blonde sith walk inside, blue eyes twinkling with mischief as she sits down in the chair next to her. “it sounds like a wonderful assignment, vowran.”

they discuss back and forth their current plans as mierrio counts down the seconds until she can escape the dark and stuffy room. usually she feeds off the dark energy she gains by just being around the dark council’s chambers on korriban, but she just feels nauseously full. it’s not too much to handle, it’s just not wanted.

when they do finally break for an intermission, she’s considering leaving and not coming back. however, she is no match for the wrath’s 5"6 frame, as she easily catches up with her, voice cool and smooth. as kriffing always. “nox, leaving so early?”

“might as well throw myself out the airlock. datacron or not, i don’t intend to spend these peace talks playing matchmaker with you.” she continues walking, speeding up her pace as the wrath only lengthens her stride.

“i think it will be a wonderful excursion, nox.” mierrio can’t tell whether she’s smiling or not (she’s still wearing that damned respirator), “alderaan is so nice this time of year, don’t you believe?”

mierrio takes a sharp turn around a corner and unknowingly underneath a low-hanging sign for the cantina nearby. the only stops walking when she hears a loud bang from behind her. whirling around, she smirks as the wrath recoils. she’s hit the top of her head against the bottom of the sign, leaving a nasty red bruise that she quickly covers with her blonde bangs. “let’s see who has the last laugh, wrath.” she says over her shoulder, intending to continue further down the hall. she’ll answer that question, mierrio always has the last laugh. she wasn’t fatally wounded after their battle on corellia, she was part of the dark council long before the wrath ascended to her seat after murdering baras. and of course, mierrio came from so much less and was so much more powerful.

“do you know who i am?” mierrio tries to resist, she really does, but her throat closes as she gasps for air. barely able to turn her head in the desolate hallway, the wrath walks closer to her. “i am a fine tuned killing machine, and i serve the emperor. whether you believe he is an absent landlord or whatnot, you will respect me, nox.”

mierrio hangs there for a second, trying not to panic as tears almost well up in her eyes as she struggles against the metaphorical fist choking her. too many memories flood back from the major choking her as a child, his rough, gloved hands around her neck. the red handmarks he and his wife would leave when they abused her. “understood?”

she refuses to nod, which earns the cocking of an eyebrow from the wrath. “call me power-hungry or arrogant, sure. but i think this is where your path ends, nox. you’re at my mercy, i could snap your neck now and i could get away with it because no one would dare challenge the emperor’s wrath. you were a lowly slave before this, weren’t you?” she pauses, then paces back in the direction she came, colbalt blue eyes hardening, never leaving hers. “so you understand servitude just fine. i suggest you learn your place here and now, before we have another spat like we did on corellia.”

she tightens her grip as mierrio scrapes at her throat, air unable to escape as she coughs. “i can’t say it’s good knowing you, nox. you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side for the last few years.” rolling her own neck, the wrath chooses a spot in front of her to intimidatingly stand before dropping her to the ground. “dark council member or not, you got here through murder. that doesn’t mean you have the talent or the know-how to stay this way.”

“w-would you s-shut your m-mouth? i can smell the kriffing shit from here.” mierrio responds cheekily as the wrath’s eyebrows raise in surprise and possibly humor (did the wrath even have a humorous bone in her body?). “i know my place, and i intend to make it above yours. emperor’s wrath or not, you’re still human. you have a name, you have a husband.” she coughs again. “you can be killed. never forget how fragile life is, wrath.”

“i shall not, and i haven’t, nox. do not ruin this for me, or it will be your head on a platter in the next week.” brushing off her robes, she walks past her. “good day nox, i will see you tomorrow morning. do not be late.”

mierrio watches her walk away (a good distance from the offending sign) as she fills her lungs with air again. fighting on corellia had not ended well, it’d left the wrath with a puncturing hole in her stomach, and mierrio had nearly lost her left arm. to have another, all these years later as dark council members, could easily be fatal for one or the other.

but darth nox, lord kallig, was not about to let fear control her again. the wrath would not get the better of her, again. mierrio revel was stronger than that, and always would be.

and she’d show the arrogant sith that.

#swtor #swtor oc #star wars the old republic #oc #original character #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #mierrio revel #andronikos revel #female sith inquisitor/andronikos revel

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Why Pokémon Has Endured For 25 Years

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In 1996, Joseph Tobin was a professor of early education at the University of Hawaii when he decided to walk into a hobby store in Kaimuki for field research.

“They had some Pokémon stuff—the Japanese versions of the cartridges,” Tobin recalls. “People could buy them in this store before they were even available elsewhere. We interviewed the owner and decided that Pokémon would be a really interesting thing to study.”

Tobin had a pre-existing interest in Japanese culture from time spent in Japan as an exchange student and therefore continued his research in other hobby shops and toy stores throughout Honolulu. As the years progressed, he traded Pokémon cards with children who were adamant that he would not get ripped off in lopsided swaps. He followed as a colleague’s six-year-old son spent 90-plus hours with his Pokémon Blue cartridge for the Nintendo Game Boy, learning to read, understanding maps, and calculating sums in the process.

The years of Poké studies culminated in Tobin hosting an academic conference in 2000, where educators, anthropologists, and other cultural experts gathered in Honolulu to discuss this massive, yet certainly fleeting, Pokémon phenomenon. The findings and arguments of the conference were collected in the insightful and thoroughly-researched, yet tragically named, Pikachu’s Global Adventure: The Rise and Fall of Pokémon.

“We thought we better hurry and get this out before the craze is over,” Tobin says.

25 years later and the Pokémon craze is nowhere near over.

Today, Pokémon is one of the most successful, if not the most successful entertainment entities in human history. Pokémon is the highest-grossing media franchise of all time, having taken in an estimated $88 billion in revenue. According to eBay, there were 160 million searches on the platform for Pokémon cards last year, and they outsold even baseball cards. In December of last year, a Base set 1st edition PSA-graded 10 “shadowless” Charizard card sold on eBay for a staggering $350,100. The Pokémon games are now in their eighth generation and have sold over 340 million units. The long-running anime is in its 24th year and features more than 1,100 episodes.

In defense of Tobin and The Rise and Fall of Pokémon’s title, the franchise, created by Game Freak and Nintendo, did seem like it was on the ropes in the early 2000s. “Pokémania” had largely died out and financial markers like the Pokémon card market had cooled. But Pokémon didn’t need a lengthy Pokémania to become one of the most successful entertainment franchises ever. To find success, all Pokémon needed was a consistent track record of innovative creators behind the scenes and a dedicated fan base of children—and eventually adults—willing to catch them all.

“This will probably be something you hear from me and the rest of the team at Pokémon a lot. But Pokémon really is for everyone,” says Daniel Benkwitt, Senior Manager, Communications & Public Relations for The Pokémon Company International. “As long time fans will tell you, Pokémon has always been around throughout many iterations. The fans have been dedicated to Pokémon for 25 years, no matter when they came in.”

Benkwitt has a unique perspective on the nature of Pokémon’s ebbs and flows. Now working on the franchise’s 25th-anniversary celebrations, Benkwitt joined the Pokémon Company during Pokémon’s 20th anniversary—the same year that the massively popular augmented reality mobile game Pokémon Go debuted.

“I was excited to work on an exciting franchise, but who knew what it was actually going to be once Pokémon Go had launched?” he says. “Truly, Pokémon Go on the 20th anniversary brought Pokémon back into the zeitgeist.”

In many ways, Pokémon Go served as a reminder of what the Poké die-hards already knew: this is Pikachu’s world and we’re just living in it. Whether it be through the series of beloved games, a highly successful card game, long-running anime, or sheer power of brand alone, Pokémon is one of the last quarter century’s big pop culture winners.

The reasons why Pokémon survived its early fad status to blossom into a titan of entertainment are varied and innumerable, but it all starts with accessibility.

“There’s a variety of different ways and different touchpoints that fans can enter into Pokémon. My personal story is the anime,” Benkwitt says. “For a lot of folks, it was the video games, because that truly is the core of the franchise. Everything emanates out from there.”

Let the Poké Games Begin!

Pokémon Red and Green first premiered in Japan on Feb. 27, 1996. Its English counterparts, Red and Blue, would arrive in North America in 1998. Just about everything that’s appealing about the Pokémon franchise is apparent in those first two installments: exploration, training, trading, battling. The games capture creator Satoshi Tajiri’s experience of collecting insects as a boy in Japan, scaled up and fine-tuned for a larger, and eventually more Western audience.

The games have evolved over the years, moving from a Matrix-green original Game Boy sprite display to the gorgeous, full-color three dimensions of Nintendo Switch. Along the way, new generations of fans have found their respective access points into the games and the franchise at large.

Pokémon content creator Ron Sroor is part of the next wave of Pokémon fandom, having been born after Red and Blue even debuted. He knows as well as anyone that the appeal of Pokémon has been constant, even if the heights of the franchise have waxed and waned.

“To the people who were around at the beginning of Pokémania, it seemed like it was dying down, and it definitely was,” Sroor says. “But it never stopped being big. It was going from the biggest thing ever to just a normal, big thing.”

Like Benkwitt, Sroor came to Pokémon through the anime before coming to appreciate the larger tapestry of the franchise through the Pokémon Black and White games, which are set in a world approximating his native New York City. Now Sroor interacts with Pokémon fans via a variety of creative YouTube videos in which he discusses elements of the games like tier lists for powerful Pokémon, and shares his own artistic Pokémon renditions.

“I think the Pokémon are the draw of the franchise. They’re the perfect formula for creating creatures that aren’t too monstrous, but also not too childish or too cute,” he says. “Every single Pokémon is based on something, whether it be an animal or myth, and every location in the game or in the show or whatever is based on places in the real world.”

Cardboard Craze

Though the Pokémon series of games were the progenitor of the franchise, Pikachu and friends quickly proved too big to be contained by only one medium. The Pokémon Trading Card Game was first published by Wizards of the Coast in October 1996, just eight months after Red and Blue’s debut. These days, the Pokémon Trading Card Game (now under the auspices of The Pokémon Company) is considered one of the “Big Three” TCGs, alongside Magic: The Gathering and Yu-Gi-Oh!.

Competitive Pokémon TCG player Andrew Mahone recalls experiencing the first wave of Pokemania when he was in fourth grade.

“1999—it was everywhere. Kids were playing the cards at recess, at the pool, wherever we went. I got captivated by the initial craze as it was the cultural phenomenon happening at the time. And being 10 years old, you’re the same age as the hero in the Pokémon franchise. So it really hit home with me there.”

Like many other kids of his generation, Mahone set Pokémon aside throughout his high school years and picked up a diverse array of other interests like soccer, skateboarding, and competitive running. It was during college, however, that Mahone met back up with the franchise that never truly went away, playing Pokémon Diamond and Pearl on the bus to and from track meets.

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The Best Pokémon TCG Decks for Players Cup

By Anthony McGlynn

“I fell in love with the franchise all over again doing that, and I played the DS game for hundreds of hours throughout my college career. When I graduated college, that’s when I was like, ‘Okay. Well, now I want something else that’s competitive to do now that I’m done with sports.’ That’s where I got into competitive Pokémon.”

Mahone attended his first competitive TCG event in 2012 and won his first regional championship in 2015. By 2017, he was making YouTube videos about the competitive Pokémon TCG scene. That channel has now evolved into his multimedia enterprise Tricky Gym, supported by Full Grip Games.

As part of the Pokémon TCG diaspora, Mahone has had a front-row seat to the game’s latest renaissance, this time likely driven by young adults looking to connect with their past while stuck indoors due to COVID lockdowns.

“We see a lot of young adults now in their mid-20s and 30s revisiting Pokémon because they have such strong nostalgic feelings for it. It came out in this very impactful time in their early childhood.”

I Wanna Be the Very Best…

One of the reasons that so many adults have warm fuzzies for the franchise is the storytelling around it. Premiering in 1997, the anime story of Ash Ketchum and his quest to become a Pokémon master has been a constant companion of the franchise through 24 years and hundreds of episodes. It also had a tremendous impact on the woman who would one day voice the young hero of Pallet Town.

“It was hard for me even as a kid to see it as a fad, because of the show,” Sarah Natochenny says. “It had heart, relatable characters, and adorable, unique creatures. This wasn’t just a game or set of toys. Pokémon had a story.”

Natochenny is an artist with eclectic talents and interests. After winning a bronze medal at the Junior Olympics in rhythmic gymnastics in 1999, she studied at the Strasberg Theater Institute for four years while also doing improv at UCB, and taking voice and dance classes on the side. In 2006, she auditioned for the role of Ash Ketchum in the Pokémon anime’s English dub, taking over for the role’s progenitor, Veronica Taylor.

“Pokémon was the biggest job I booked. It was only my second voiceover job, after a medical industrial,” Natochenny says. “I was the perfect age when Pokémon first came to America, and I loved the show and remember begging my parents for the cards. I had one deck. I have no idea where it is or whether or not there was a million-dollar card in there.”

Since 2006, Natochenny has voiced Ash, his mom Delia, along with a host of other human and Pokémon characters (Buneary being a particular favorite because it’s very cute). As part of the Pokémon 25th anniversary, Natochenny is most looking forward to wrapping up work on Pokémon the Movie: Secrets of the Jungle, along with some of the other planned festivities.

“I’m looking forward to celebrating with fans and continuing to bring joy to people who grew up with my portrayal of their favorite character. I’ll also probably dance to the music that comes out, so tune in to my social media to see if those dance classes paid off,” she says.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

25 Years of Pokémon

As Natochenny suggests, The Pokémon Company indeed has big plans—musical and otherwise—for the franchise’s 25th anniversary.

The team has been working on the celebration for over a year and has partnered with UMG and Katy Perry for a year-long musical campaign called P25 Music. Other corporate partners include Build-A-Bear Workshop, General Mills, Levi’s, McDonald’s, Jazwares, Scholastic, Mattel, Funko, PowerA, and The Wand Company (which is manufacturing a lifelike Poké Ball). And there are still more announcements to come.

“All I can say is, stay tuned because the rest of the year is going to be quite exciting with more surprises. Pokémon likes to surprise its fans,” Benkwitt says.

One thing that wouldn’t surprise its fans is if Pokémon one day observed a 50th- anniversary celebration, or even a centennial. It certainly wouldn’t surprise Tobin, who is still an early education professor, now at the University of Georgia.

“I’m not surprised that [Pokémon] has lasted this long in the sense that I think it’s really good,” he says. “It was really cleverly designed and it has a really rich narrative. I’m happy to see that it’s made it.”

Shop Pokémon on eBay today!

The post Why Pokémon Has Endured For 25 Years appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3aJSIfe

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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kingfisherunion · 6 years

Text

Firsts

Chapter 3

Read on Ao3

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)

Relationships:

Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov

Characters:

Katsuki Yuuri

Yuri Plisetsky

Victor Nikiforov

Makkachin (Yuri!!! on Ice)

Katsuki Mari

Yakov Feltsman

Phichit Chulanont

Christophe Giacometti

Katsuki Toshiya

Katsuki Hiroko

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Domestic

5+1 Things

nonbinary Yuuri

Nonbinary Character

Established Relationship

sex mentioned/implied

Marriage

Weddings

Romance

Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

POV Multiple

depersonification

Depression

Character's Name Spelled as Viktor

Long-Haired Katsuki Yuuri

Language: English

“Katsudon, are you r- oh Jesus Christ.” With the demeanor and the force of an overbearing stage mom, Yurio licked his thumb and marched over to the vanity, brandishing the damp digit like some sort of magical weapon. Yuuri feared for a moment he was going to claw their eyes out. His frenzied scrubbing punctuated his words as if he were carving them into their skin. “You! Shouldn't! Wear! Eyeliner! You! Emotional! Fuck!”

Yuuri gulped as they examined their hair in the full-length mirror in Mari's room of Hasetsu Yu-Topia, mindlessly brushing out the ends even though it had been shiny and tangle-free long ago. They removed the pins that held it back from their face and changed to a side part. They'd been growing it out since their first gold a little over a year ago. It wasn't long enough yet to pull back into a ponytail, or a single braid, without everything falling out in strands around their cheeks - looking anything less than put together would be an insult to the flawless ensemble they knew Viktor would be sporting that afternoon.

"Mari-neesan, I don't look sloppy, right?” they mumbled, trying to arrange their bangs so that they cascaded attractively over their face without obscuring their eyes. Mari peered over their shoulder at their reflection for all of two seconds before returning her attention to the orange she was in the process of peeling.

“You look fine, Yuuri.”

No, no, no, that wasn't good enough. Something was off. They whipped off their glasses and dabbed some aloe on the little red spots on either side of their nose, hoping fifteen minutes was enough to even out their skin tone before Viktor saw them for the first time. Squinting, they turned back to the mirror. What could they do?

They pulled out their makeup kit, sky blue and printed with poodles, and fished around for the shimmery dusty rose eyeshadow they had used to hint modestly around their eyes. Perhaps they had been a little too subtle with the accent. They filled in just a little bit more and topped it off with a clean, thin black liner. No wings, this time. Phichit would be disappointed.

They left their glasses behind on Mari's vanity.

Everything had been so exciting and romantic up to this point. Their decision to buy the ring. The papers for a work visa Viktor had waiting after the Grand Prix banquet in Barcelona. Moving in. The mind-blowing sex. The process of planning and orchestrating everything wedding-related... Yuuri had felt so at home. They were finally starting to see a sense of direction in their life, a connection between work and love and home and friends that got them out of bed in the morning.

They'd spent the past year under blankets, snuggled together with Viktor, some new project coming to fruition on the laptop positioned between them: skate programs, travel bookings, the search for the perfect brand of dog food, color schemes for the decorations, birthday presents for Yurio... two and a half years ago they wouldn't have even believed they could achieve a life this good. Training with Viktor was vigorous and fast-paced and exciting; life with him was relaxed and comforting... and just as exciting.

But now, here, Yuuri was about to put on the biggest show for all of their friends and family - and they had only this one chance to pull it off. And Viktor wasn't there to help them prepare because "it's bad luck to see each other before it's time." They could feel the pressure of everything they had planned up until now bearing down on them, threatening to press all of the air from their lungs, dampening their bangs and the collar of their powder blue suit with sweat.

Mari set down her orange and hovered beside them with a towel.

“You'll be fine, I promise,” she soothed as they dabbed at their forehead. “and you don't even need to worry about impressing any of his family since...”

“Oi, neechan,” Yuuri chided with a dark laugh. The two had still never really approached the subject of the parents he never had or life in the orphanage. Yuuri still couldn't tell whether his silence on the subject was born from avoidance or acceptance.

“He has always had Yakov. And the team. And... well... us, now, I guess.”

Mari smiled wide with a gentle squeeze of her sibling's shoulders.

“Yuri,” she breathed, “you're marrying Viktor! The Viktor! The same Viktor we clipped from magazines and turned into a paper doll when we were kids! I have watched him make you happier than I've ever seen you, even before you'd met.” She thrust a handful of orange wedges into their hand and began adjusting their suit in tiny ways here and there as she spoke. “Here. Eat. Look. I told you when you came home that no matter what you did, I'd support you. So no matter what happens...”

Yuuri couldn't keep a hold on her words; the emotions welling up inside them were causing their pulse to pound, heavy and commanding, in their ears. She squeezed them tight with all the power of a sister's pride and they realized that maybe the black eyeliner had been a mistake. A brief glance in the mirror confirmed their suspicion; they yelped and shoved Mari back down into her chair.

“You idiot,” they cried, dabbing under their eyes at the little black streams that had started down their cheeks. “Oh my god, what if I don't even make it through the ceremony?”

Mari's expression of helplessness, her gaping mouth trying to find the correct words to soothe her sibling, was interrupted by the banging open of her bedroom door and Yuri Plisetsky's heavily-accented impatient drawl.

After a thorough baptism of slick makeup remover on scratchy cotton pads, Yurio deployed his quickest makeup skills, pulling out cosmetics Yuuri was sure hadn't even come from their own collection and working with swift precision. The way he held the brushes he wasn't using between his teeth would have made Yuuri cringe any other day, but then again, he'd already smeared their face with his spit. And mostly, they just wanted to look their best. Primer, eyeshadow, clear mascara, powder, setting spray. It all took two minutes, max. The young Russian scratched at his newly-clipped hair and leaned back to admire his handiwork.

“Hell, you almost look presentable,” he grumbled. “Ready to go get married?”

The wedding party was assembled at the entrance of the inn. As Mari and Yurio ushered them in, Yuuri just barely caught a glimpse of charcoal suit and silver hair being led away by Phichit and Chris. In the lounge, their parents and Yakov were deep in discussion – or rather, their parents were deep in discussion while a rather unamused and overwhelmed Yakov sipped his drink. When he caught sight of Yuuri, his face – if it was even possible – lit up. He sprang – if it was even possible – to his feet and caught them in the crook of his arm.

“Katsuki,” he growled. “You look... Ah. Viktor will...” He pressed his lips into a thin line, jaw set in its usual stern scowl but eyes soft and pleading. Yuuri laughed and thew their arms around the old man.

“I'm so happy you agreed to be here for Vitya,” they sighed. Yakov flashed a rare smile.

“You've stolen my best student from me. His scores are shit because of you. But I would not trade you for ten more seasons of gold medals. He chuckled. “I am not heartless. Желаю вам обоим море счастья.”

“My Yuuri! Move, oh my god, move! Yuuri!” An onslaught of flashes from a camera phone announced Phichit's return; the Thai skater slammed into Yuuri hard enough to knock them off-balance before cupping their face in his hands and kissing their forehead. “You look absolutely stunning!” He continued to fawn over them as he pulled them back into the lounge. He cornered them behind a menu board and craned his neck in the direction of the banquet room down the hall. “We're starting the procession! Once Viktor goes in your dad will come get you, okay? Breathe! You're going to do great! You are beautiful and Yuuri? Viktor. Is. Beautiful. You two are going to have beautiful, amazing, disgusting sex tonight and every night for the rest of your life, and if you need moral support at any point today you just reach back and squeeze my hand, okay? Okay! I have to get ready!”

Phichit disappeared beyond the menu board and, for the first time that day, Yuuri was alone. His frantic energy was resonating through them like the lingering tones of a bell; it was happening. Now. It hit them that Viktor – The Viktor was theirs today, now, and for the rest of their life. They heard the processional through the walls and went boneless. The overture from The Marriage of Figaro seemed to go on for hours. Yuuri dabbed one more time around their neck with their sleeve.

When Toshiya appeared around the corner, Yuuri's insides went cold.

Here it goes.

Mom and Dad on either side of them were both whispering their love and support as they slid open the door to the banquet room.

And there he was.

Forget the guests, the wedding party, everyone arranged in front of them with heads and shoulders twisted around in their seats to see their entrance. Nevermind Minako's and Yuuko's bawling, the collective gasp as they walked in, the enamored stares from their fellow competitors all grouped together on one side.

All they saw was him.

Viktor – his slender frame perfectly filling out his Armani suit, his eyes sparkling with tears – was waiting for them, blushing cheeks visible even beneath the trembling hands steepled over his face. Their groom... their husband. With every step Yuuri felt the room melt away around them, until nothing else existed outside of the soon-to-be spouses. They couldn't even dare themselves to blink; no way could they miss a single moment of Viktor's face.

And then they were at level with him. Standing right next to him – right in front of him, looking up into the cloudless skies in their lover's eyes. Viktor heaved a heavy, shuddering breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Yuuri,” he gasped.

“Hi,” they breathed.

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cywscross · 7 years

Text

Fic Recs

For @bakatora who - to my interpretation - asked for some heartwarming, uplifting plotty fics you can sink your teeth into and come out feeling better because reality is hard right now, which I honestly really need myself. I’ve been so busy with exams and essays for the past three weeks, I haven’t even been writing fanfic, I think this is actually the longest I’ve ever gone without writing something, and I’m still not finished. Last exam is on Friday, and then I’m gonna crash.

But anyway, I’ll list these by fandom since you said any, and most of them are complete too, hope you enjoy :)

Boku no Hero Academia

but you gotta get up at least once more by simkjrs

Midoriya Izuku does not let his lack of a Quirk prevent him from being strong. Also known as that one AU where Izuku follows the ridiculous training regimen of Saitama from One Punch Man and becomes stronger than anyone ever imagined he could be.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Welcome to the Hellmouth! Part Deux by OffYourBird

Summary: It's been 20 years since the Hellmouth closed, and Buffy has realized that awakening the Potentials has had a vicious side effect. Or rather, several. Left with the choice to either lead or follow as the current present gets erased, Buffy risks everything to go back to the Hellmouth... and back to the one being she thought she'd never see again.

Her Way by dreamweaver

After Spike burns up in the Hellmouth, Buffy demands that the Oracles send her back in time.

Changes by dreamweaver

This is fluff, a sequel to "Her Way", a romp through all the changes everybody has to go through once Buffy and Spike claim each other.

Something Redux by dreamweaver

A year after Spike’s death in the Hellmouth, Buffy is flung back in time.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

The Graves Identity by Mishafied

He doesn't remember who he is or how he ended up injured in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness; all he knows is his name is Percival, and he owes his life to the shy, redheaded zoologist who saved him. But unfortunately, just because he doesn't remember his past doesn't mean it can't come back to haunt him. This is the story of how Percival got his happily ever after, and then had to fight to keep it.

Final Fantasy VII

Company by esama

Cloud stopped planning a life in ShinRa and ShinRa definitely made no plans for him.

Rock Bottom by esama

In which Cloud is so not doing this again. Except then he is.

Fullmetal Alchemist

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

demon alchemist by metisket

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re doin’ your best. It’s just your best isn’t quite good enough, Colonel. So while you’re doing whatever the hell it is you do, I’ll be here cleaning up after you.”

Game of Thrones

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly. And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

Harry Potter

The Sum of Their Parts by holdmybeer

For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would become a Dark Lord. For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would take down the Ministry or die trying. He should have known that Hermione and Ron wouldn't let him do it alone.

Gelosaþ in Écnesse by Batsutousai

Caught in the backlash of Voldemort's Killing Curse, Harry is thrown through time to a world so very different from his own.

Hikaru no Go

Watch and Learn by Trial and Error by esama

When God gives Hikaru his wish, he begins his journey again with a new goal in life, to prevent Sai from fading.

a hundred year of memories by aimichan

Sai is reborn as Shindou Hikaru with all of his memories intact.

The Relative Value of Things by rageprufrock

Touya Akira isn't the only person who wants.

Jurassic World

Pushing Boundaries by Macx

Masrani Global recruited him to train raptors. It was an intriguing, novel idea, something only a crazy or insane person would attempt. Owen wasn't crazy or insane. He knew he could do this. He just didn't know how deep he would get into it, how strong the connection to the pack would become, how close... they, the four of them, would become to him. His grandfather had always warned him: don't get too close. Don't let them connect. Well, it was too late for that now.

Kingsman

Care and Custody by esama

Eggsy takes out the medal in slightly worse circumstances, asking for a miracle.

Marvel

Run 'Verse by themonkeycabal

Darcy's not quite sure what she'll do with another dad.

Nobody's heroes by boleyn13

“This job... we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time... maybe nobody gets saved.” At the end of the day Steve did save everybody. He saved Bucky from Tony, his team from the government, the world from the Sokovia Accords. Some time would probably have to pass for things to blow over, and then everything would go back to normal. Couple of days. Tops. After all Team Cap saved everybody, showing the world how dangerous the accords were, how easily they could be abused. Even their supporters had to come to their senses now. Yet five days after Siberia nobody feels safe. Things don’t calm down and suddenly it’s again Steve against the rest of the world. Only now it’s not some international organisation or government but the people. The ones he had saved. Slowly Captain America must realize that they don’t feel saved but angry, hurt and scared. The people demand justice for those who were really trying to save them and paid the price for it.

Naruto

backslide by blackkat

Naruto’s friends are gone, his lover is dying, Konoha is destroyed, and Madara’s second return has pushed the entire world to the brink. Hunted and harried, Naruto is sent back in time to upend Madara’s plan before it even starts, and sets about changing everything. Butterfly effect nothing: the world is at stake, and Naruto is hardly about to let it fall to ruin once more. Not while he’s still breathing.

Stormborn by blackkat

(The soul of a city is a hard thing to kill. Uzushio is still aware, still waiting. And now, with the rebirth of her greatest Kage, it’s time to call her people home.)

An Invincible Summer by ShanaStoryteller

When Naruto is five, he's gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead. Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy.

Star Wars

Letters... by flamethrower

When Jedi Master Tahl is murdered, Qui-Gon Jinn leaves the Order, and his Padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't about to let him go that easily.

Re-Entry by flamethrower

Re-Entry is an alternate universe epic that spans time and possibility. Obi-Wan Kenobi, while still a young Padawan, suffers an injury and wakes up with all of the memories, experience, training, and Force-strength of Old Ben Kenobi. It isn't long before the Jedi discover that Anakin Skywalker, a five-year-old slave from the Outer Rim, has undergone the exact same change. Obi-Wan and Anakin bear the scars of harsh lessons learned; those who love them must learn those lessons quickly, before the mistakes of old are repeated.

Supernatural

I Melted Wax To Fix My Wings by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel

After four torturous months Sam has his brother back, but Dean is accompanied by an angel with a terrible task for them both: help stop the impending apocalypse, or see the world destroyed. Sam has no idea what to do next when the Trickster turns up, blonde and female this time but as maddening as ever, promising assistance. As time passes Sam finds himself slowly coming to depend on the pagan Trickster god, but just when it looks like the apocalypse can be averted, the Winchester luck kicks in and threatens to ruin everything - including Sam's friendship with Loki.

The Laughter of Dead Tricksters by onthewaters

After Dean returns from Hell, the boys have an encounter with another Trickster and Gabriel ends up assisting. And then there is that whole Lilith thing.

Teen Wolf

Naughty Hookers (Swathed in Wool) by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly. Paths cross.

All In A Spin by ShippersList

Stiles can't really talk anymore but, with Peter, he realizes he doesn't have to. Even if their spoken communication consists of one swear word and stuttered syllables, they understand each other. And that's what counts.

If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out by mia6363

Commander Stilinski looked like he fell out of a propaganda video, his armor still smoking as he pulled off his helmet and handed it off to First Officer Argent. He had a few bruises down his neck but his smile was bright. “Glad to see you safe and sound, Mr. Hale. I’d hate for Derek to lose a member of his family.” “I told you,” Derek snapped at his superior, “he’s not worth this, Commander.”

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by ladypigswagon

In the beginning, there are three absolutes. One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal. Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary. Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous. Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other. Three absolutes.

Save Me by DiscontentedWinter

Peter is the Alpha. He's nobody's savior. Not his pack's. Not his town's. And not that kid's. But sometimes salvation goes both ways.

Kitty Quintuplets by iCheat (short but hella fluffy if you need a pick-me-up)

Prompt: Imagine person A getting home really drunk one night and they tell person B that they're pregnant with kittens.

The Unexpected Marriage of Peter Hale by moonstalker24

This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone. “You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says. Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?” “Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”

The Sphinx of Beacon Hills by Guede

Stiles is a sphinx, and he’s winging his way to visit his buddy Scott when a storm drops him in Beacon Hills, the craziest, crankiest, coldest place ever. And somehow, he ends up with a bunch of werewolves.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes. Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

it's not the color i came in by nezstorm

Stiles is a bit of an anomaly among the Omegas he knows, or everyone on the spectrum really. For him, heats are about comfort and safety, and not at all about sex.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Crossovers

Whispers in Corners by esama (HPxSherlock)

Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

There May Be Some Collateral Damage by metisket (BleachxHP)

Ichigo’s been ordered to go undercover at a magic school to bodyguard a kid named Harry Potter, and this would be fine, except that he’s about as good at bodyguarding as he is at magic. And he considers it a good day, magic-wise, if he hasn’t set anything on fire.

Of Wizards and Heroes by littlelightsinourheart (storyforsomeone) (HPxMarvel)

Centuries after that fatal day of the battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter has fallen into legend, a bedtime story parents tell their children, a name whispered around campfires. He wanders the world alone and immortal, until one single reckless moment sends him hurtling into a parallel dimension of heroes and villains. A new enemy arises from an ancient power, and Harry must take a stand as the last wizard to protect this new world. If only SHIELD would stop trying to track him down...and someone could explain what the hell was an 'Avenger' was supposed to be. Honestly, muggles...

Cardcaptor Harry by LunaStorm (Cardcaptor SakuraxHP)

In which both Albus Dumbledore and Clow Reed would have done well to remember that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in any philosophy... or predicted by the most imprecise branch of magic...

i blinked (and there you were) by Della19 (Doctor WhoxKingsman)

The Weeping Angels, Eggsy reads on the stolen Torchwood intel. Aliens that pose as statues, and kill their victims by sending them back in time and feeding off their years not lived in the present. The politest psychopaths in the universe, a note reads, scrawled in what looks like a doctor’s chicken scratch on the edge of the page by someone who clearly had a perverse sense of humour. A one way trip, the report concludes; you get transported by the angels, and it’s the slow road back to the present for you. Eggsy lays his head back on the wall, takes stock of his situation. He’s lost 30 years - three years more than his entire lifespan up ’til now - in the blink of an eye, and now he’s stuck here, in 1988. Three years before he’s even born. Arthur, the prick, is sure to be heading up the Kingsmen, and Merlin, if he’s even there would be…20, maybe. Fuck, so fucking young. Shite, even Harry’d only be… Alive, Eggsy thinks, and finds himself sitting down hard from where his knees can’t hold him. This is 1988, and Harry’s 23, and alive. Suddenly, being stuck in 1988 doesn’t seem so bad. Or, the one where love means changing the future.

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geekade · 7 years

Text

Geekade Top Ten: Neil Gaiman Long Form Fiction

It’s a great time to be Neil Gaiman. His latest book, Norse Mythology, debuted on the New York Times’ bestseller list. American Gods, based on the novel of the same title, debuts on TV next month. And a filmed adaptation of Good Omens is finally in development at Amazon, with the author at the helm. So what better time, then, to celebrate some of his work? Neil Gaiman is a God among book geeks, considered by many, myself included, to be their favorite author. Any entity with so passionate a fan base is bound to be extremely sensitive about a ranking concerning said entity. So it is with great trepidation that I approach this task and ask you all to remember that, while I am doing my best to be objective here, at the end of the day, these are my opinions. I am as entitled to them as you are to yours. Let’s not fight, let’s just love Neil Gaiman and every word that comes out of his brain.

Categorizing Gaiman’s work is tough because his oeuvre is so expansive and varied. I had to limit this somehow and the easiest way was to eliminate his children’s picture books , which I HIGHLY recommend. They are all charming and fun, gorgeously illustrated, and provide excellent alternatives when gift-giving that most parents haven’t seen before and will be glad of the breath of fresh air. I always give Blueberry Girl or Instructions at any baby shower that requests a book instead of a card. I’d say even if there are no children in your life, if you love Neil Gaiman, you’ll enjoy looking at these and possibly donating a copy or two to your local library. In the same vein, his short fiction is out. I am also excluding Norse Mythology by the logic that a retelling is a different animal than long form fiction. (Also I haven't read it yet...sorry). On the other hand, I have decided to include some of his longer juvenile fiction and YA work to round out the list because YA writing is as legit as any work of “adult” fiction. Fight me. Sandman is also in here; although it is a graphic novel, there is enough writing there to qualify it as long form fiction. Also, this series is a gateway drug for many comic fans becoming Gaiman fans; it’s too important not to include. As the man himself wrote, “Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.” So, here we go.

10. Fortunately the Milk - FtM is definitely a juvenile book, but in a much longer form than a picture book. This grand tale, suitable for middle grades readers, tells of wild adventures a Dad gets caught up in, all while out on a mundane errand like buying more milk to go with breakfast. The set up is relatable enough to children to be believable and the fantastic and funny mishaps Dad encounters will crack them up and keep them reading. It’s an excellent way to introduce young readers to the work of a parent’s favorite author.

9. Stardust - Stardust is a love story, Gaiman style. Its most masterful achievements are the fantasy world of Faerie and the rich, non-traditional characters. It provides a lovely twist that flips a traditional fairy tale narrative on its ear. It’s more lighthearted than most of his other works, which isn’t to say it isn’t good, but it is a bit out of his lane. Additionally, many readers find the lead character Tristan grating, thus knocking it this far down on the list. But on a list of works of this quality, good things fall to the bottom. Still very much worth the read.

8 - Coraline - This is Gaiman’s take on a parable, warning of the dangers of wishes. It is at the same time for kids and not for kids. It’s a young adult story, I suppose, but appeals to older adults as well. Gaiman’s guilty many times over of writing unique, realistic children and putting them in strange and creepy circumstances. He walks the fine line between condescension and understanding, making the characters relatable while still reminding us, often painfully, of our own youth. This story ranks here only because it is a good, but not the best, example of his ability to do so; it’s a rating of the story against other of his stories, not on its own merits, which are excellent.

7 - Ocean at the End of the Lane - Like most of Gaiman’s work, this is a beautiful, dark work of genius. It’s a captivating story of long-forgotten memories unearthed by a visit to a mysterious place from the narrator’s childhood. It’s a book to read to remind you what it’s like to be a child, encouraging you to revisit unexplained, mystical experiences of youth from an adult perspective. As one Goodreads reviewer aptly put it, “In short, it is a Neil Gaiman novel.” It’s not his best or best-known work, but it’s definitely representative of him. It makes a good recommendation for readers who don’t know, but are interested in, his work and for those who know some of his work, but are unfamiliar with this fairly-recent release.

6 - Anansi Boys - This not-quite sequel to American Gods tells the story of Fat Charlie and Spider, children of a deceased God and brothers who never knew each other in their father’s lifetime. Gaiman’s talent for taking a small part of a larger story and blowing it up into its own narrative is part of what makes him such a master. This novel is an excellent example of his ability to create rich worlds and fully fleshed out characters. It also shows off his knack for incorporating mythical elements from oral storytelling traditions of cultures other than his own. It’s a fun, fast read, not quite up to the caliber of some of his greater works, but that’s hardly a criticism.

5 - Neverwhere - This is a great work of modern urban fantasy with possibly Gaiman’s most relatable protagonist, an office worker thrust into a fantastical world beneath the streets of London. It’s a story most of us would imagine (or have imagined) ourselves in, written as only Gaiman can and a world we want to spend far more time in, even after the story is over. As a standalone story, it’s a good entry point into the author’s work, but reader beware, it will leave you wanting more.

4 - The Graveyard Book - Yes, this children’s book is placed awfully high up on the list, but it has won some of the most prestigious awards in literature (notably the Hugo award and the Newbery medal) and quite deservedly so. For one thing, Nobody Owens is a phenomenal protagonist and for another, this is just such a remarkable, fun, exciting story as only Gaiman can tell it. It has the potential to become scary at just about every turn, but thanks to the author’s humor and talent, it never really does. This is truly one to be enjoyed by readers of ALL ages and for that reason, it deserves high placement in the NG canon.

3 - Good Omens - It gives me serious pain not to rank this number one. Not only is it my favorite of Gaiman’s books by far, it is my favorite book, period. But this is a list of his best books, not my favorites, not to mention it’s a co-write with beloved, recently-departed fantasy author Terry Pratchett. Still, if you’ve missed out reading this one, and I find even many diehard fans have, do yourself a favor and correct that IMMEDIATELY. This book is as insightful as it is hilarious. It is a foundational book for me, in terms of my sense of literary appreciation, my humor, and my religious belief system. It’s a tale of the apocalypse gone awry. You can bet your ass I got some serious side-eye when I introduced it in my 10th grade English class as my favorite book, which is kind of the best praise I feel I can give for it and if you understand what I mean, then this book is for you.

2 -Sandman series - If you haven’t already wanted to hang me up by my toenails because you disagree with my opinions, you’re probably about to. This series is...not for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good. It’s great. It’s a masterpiece in the field of the graphic novel. But that’s a medium I’ve never been a huge fan of and I suppose that’s why I never connected with it. The fact that I believe it should be ranked this highly in spite of that missing connection speaks to its outstanding quality. If you love Gaiman, you probably love this series and I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. But I can’t give it the top spot because it’s not what he does best.

1 - American Gods - This is what he does best. This is storytelling at its finest. This is Gaiman, pulling from legends of old, seasoning them with his dry British wit, crafting a fascinating tale, setting it in a universe that sits just kitty-corner to our own, and drawing his audience in, such that they don’t want to leave, even after the last page is turned. It’s no wonder that fans have been clamoring for an on-screen adaptation for years, one they’ll finally lay eyes on next month, and heaven help the show’s creators (see what I did there?) if they fandom doesn’t approve. If you’ve been living under a rock and have therefore never read any Neil Gaiman and you’re wondering what his best, most representative work is? Look no further.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to disappear to an undisclosed location and stay off social media for a month to avoid the wrath from holders of differing opinions. I know not everyone will agree with me, but if we’re all talking about, celebrating, and reading books by our favorite author, that’s really the most important thing, right?

#books #Neil Gaiman #articles

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starwrite-er · 7 years

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El Libro De La Vida [Chapter 1] - Poe Dameron x Reader (x Kylo Ren)

A/N: Kylo Ren has way more honour and decency in this fic than he does in the actual movies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ also Kes isn’t much like Manolo’s father but idk lmao what can you do

Tags: @fandom-writes @the-new-fanfic-order @disapearing-act @badwolfandtimelords @xxassbuttsophiaxx @ladyaphmeow @memyselfandwifi

"Freedom is coming through!“

You see, the young Y/N, though she was just and kind, did not yet fully grasp the concept of just when to stop fighting for what she believed in. This got her, along with Poe and Ben, in much trouble. The final straw was when she let loose the pigs that were to be sent to be slaughtered. They ran throughout the town of San Angel, and though this event revealed the power of the medal Ben had recieved from Xibalba, along with demonstrating Poe’s natural gift for bullfighting, it came at a cost. Poe began to be groomed for the life of a bullfighter like his ancestors before him, though his passion lay with the music he made. Ben began to be groomed for the life of a soldier, favoured by the General, who was coincidentally also Y/N’s father. But the young Y/N, held responsible for her consistently reckless actions, was punished most harshly, sent to Spain to study at the Covent of the Perpetual Flame of Purity to become a ‘proper lady’ as her father so wished.

“And so came the day when the young Y/N would leave to study abroad. The three amigos would be no more.”

She gifted Poe a new guitar to replace the one broken by the pigs, and he gifted her a piglet named Beebee-ate. The young Y/N said her farewells to her dearest friends, Ben and Poe, before boarding the train that would take her to her new home, the promise of waiting for one another hanging in the air.

"Y/N! When you come back, I will sing for you!“ A promise made by the young Poe Dameron.

"And I will fight for you!” A promise made by the young Ben Solo.

"But it would be years before they would see Y/N again.“

"After years of training, Poe’s father organised his first bullfight, which, as luck would have it, was on the day that Y/N returned.”

"My son, Kylo may be the hero of the town, but today, you will be the hero of the ring, if - for once - you actually finish the bull.“ Kes urges his son, frustrated at Poe’s reluctance to do the one thing he wished of him. Referring to Kylo Ren - once known as Ben Solo - was believed by his father to be possibly the only way to spur Poe into motion.

"No. Killing the bull is wrong.” Poe defends his beliefs. Kes sighs, disappointed.

"Ay, kids today, with their long hair and their no killing stuff.“ Poe’s grandmother grumbles from the corner of the room.

"I’m outta here.” Angry at the dismissal of his family, Poe turns to leave, but is stopped by the guilt his father leaves him with.

"Don’t you love your family?“ Kes questions, striking the softest part of his son’s heart, aiming to get him to honour their ancestors. Poe turns slowly, looking at his father in disbelief at such a low blow. "Then go get that bull, mijo. Don’t dishonour our name. Just be a Dameron.”

With a heaviness in his heart and reluctance in his soul, Poe hands his father his beloved guitar, leaving the house to head for the arena, honouring the family name.

The dark passage leading to the ring is illuminated by the sun. Standing at the entrance to the arena, a familiar face framed by locks of black hair approaches Poe.

"In honour of Y/N’s return from Europe, the town received a rare visit from it’s most noble son, who was now a decorated hero.“

"No retreat.” Kylo says, referring to their childhood motto.

"No surrender,“ Poe grins, rushing to meet his childhood friend, no matter how he changed. "The hero of San Angel returns!”

"You didn’t think I was going to miss your first little bullfight, did you?“ Kylo responds, an underlying tone of self-righteousness in his words.

"And Y/N’s here, too!” Poe gestures to the roaring crowd, the grin of his face showing that he has not realised that Kylo did not come for him.

"Have you seen her? I cannot wait to show her my achievements.“ The taller man asks. The years of training were all done to impressed the young woman that had left the town so many years ago, all done so that for once it would be Poe hidden in the shadows. Kylo, after all, had lived a lonely childhood, and had often felt that Y/N, though she would never agree, preferred the company of Poe.

"Oh, so she’s back only to see you,” Poe says, the excitement of such a reunion no longer seeping into his voice, though he continues to keep the situation lighthearted with the playful smirk on his face and a raised brow. He’s quick to cut off Kylo’s denial. “You may have your medals, but I have the bullring. We’ll see which Y/N prefers.”

"It’s a good thing you’re finally taking bullfighting seriously.“ Kylo’s bitterness at Poe’s words is shown through his response, him clearly being aware of Poe’s distaste for the sport.

"You should see me in the bullring; that’s where I really do my thing now. A true Dameron man.” Poe lies, seizing the chance for the General to finally see him as a suitor for Y/N.

"Those are some big shadows we live under.“ Kylo speaks up, deciding not to aggravate the competition for now.

"Huge.” Poe sighs, a pitiful smile on his face. The trumpets blare, signalling for the event to begin, and the pair of old best friends part ways.

"Hey, brother, may the best man win Y/N.“ Are the final words Kylo says to Poe, the old Ben Solo seeping through the cracks of his façade. As the crowd cheers his name, Kylo is quick to return to the hero the town knows him as.

It is hard for Poe to ignore the growing envy as Kylo rides around the arena, a hero that townfolk and gods alike cheer for. He weaselled his way to the top, so highly favoured by the General, Y/N’s father, that Poe always had a feeling in his gut of inadequacy.

But, speaking of Y/N, a hush falls across the arena.

"As expected, everyone in town was curious to see how the young Y/N had grown.”

"The jewel of the town has returned!“

"And she’s going to be helping at the orphanage.”

"I heard she reads books. Like, for fun.“

And the young woman takes her seat between her father and Kylo on a balcony overlooking the arena, her pet pig following her obediently. The fan she holds, obstructing the view of her face, is lowered.

The crowd erupts into cheers, singing praise for the beauty and grace of Y/N, the jewel of San Angel.

Poe sets his jaw, stepping out into the light, a red cape hung on his shoulder.

"I would like to dedicate this corrida to Miss Y/N Y/L/N,” The man announces. His aim was to please the woman, but even at this distance, he can see how she has narrowed her eyes, displeased. “Welcome home, señorita.”

The bull breaks through the door of the enclosure, huffing and pawing at the ground. Poe shouts at the bull, waving the red flag with the golden embroidery, taunting the beast. It charges, and he spins away, avoiding the horns of the bull. The crowd cheers, throwing flowers of admiration into the ring. Encouraged by the response, Poe lifts one into the air, an offering for the lovely Miss Y/N. Though she dislikes the sport, the fond smile that graces her lips at the sight of Poe’s action does not go unnoticed.

She shouts his name, fearful as she catches sight of the bull charging for Poe, but he leaps into the air, avoiding the horns of death with such grace. The flower he held before drifts back down towards the dusty earth, Poe clamping it in between his teeth, winking at Y/N. She grins as she watches the performance, laughing in awe.

Poe continues to taunt the bull, locked in a dangerous dance as he leads the beast. The dust the creature had kicked up clears, revealing Y/N’s name engraved in the ground. The young lady’s smile widens as she laughs joyously at the display, the crowd going wild for Poe’s antics. The man bows to Y/N, and she hides the faint blush on her face with the fan she holds in her hand. Kylo, although also impressed by his old friend’s performance, has the seed of doubt and worry planted as he watches the woman he wishes to marry admire his childhood friend.

Poe approaches his father, who offers him a sword. With the audience chanting his name and his father pleading with him to do it, just this once, Poe takes the sword and prepares to finish the bull.

The crowd watches with bated breath as the bull prepared to charge, the harsh sunlight beaming against the metal of the old sword. Poe takes a breath, preparing himself, but he makes the mistake of looking at the reflection in the blade. Catching a glimpse of the look on Y/N’s face, he trusts his gut and makes his decision.

"No,“ He mumbles, stabbing the sword into the ground. He stands, shouting to the onlookers. "Killing the bull is wrong!”

The crowd gasps. The bull charges past Poe, living a little longer. The townsfolk boo, angry and disappointed.

But above the noise of the disgusted shouts from the crowd, someone applauds Poe’s act of defiance.

"Bravo! Bravo!“ Y/N calls out, standing as she claps in appreciation of his action. You see, though she forced to study abroad to become the ‘proper lady’ her father wished her to be, nothing could change Y/N’s heart. What she wanted on this day was not for Poe to dedicate the killing of a bull to her, but to once again see the boy that she was close to all those years ago. After all, she was just and kind, and still did not yet fully grasp the concept of just when to stop fighting for what she believed in.

#fic: eldlv #my work #star wars #poe dameron #kylo ren #star wars tfa #the force awakens #tbol au #star wars x reader #poe dameron x reader #kylo ren x reader #reader insert

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randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years

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Enthralled

Title: Enthralled Author: RandomWriter57 Rating: G ,Word Count: 7,318 Event + Prompt: @reigisaweek day seven: Free! Pairings: reigisa Summary: Ice skating never interested Rei before now. Before he found Nagisa.

Notes: This is my last reigisa week piece for this year! It's a little sad that the fandom is so quiet now, so we haven't had as much content, but it's really nice to have seen a bit more reigisa than usual this week! This piece is an ice skating AU! Disclaimer: I'm not a professional skater, so whilst I've tried to do my research and keep this as realistic as possible, please bear with me. I'll be happy to explain any terms you don't understand either in the comments or on any of my social media (links in the end notes as usual). Thanks for reading and sticking with me! Have a great day/night.

Also on: AO3

Every movement draws him further in. From the moment the video begins, Rei can’t look away. He’s too busy watching a story unfold before his eyes, told not through words but through actions. A toe caressing the ice. A hand falling through the air. An acceleration. A push. A body, spiralling.

Ice skating never interested Rei before now. He hadn’t spent time looking for it, and so didn’t think much of it. His heart lay with ballet, the sport of his choice. But the moment he opened that video, sent to him by a friend who was more interested in the sport, he fell in love. How could he not? It was ballet, but on ice. Graceful, elegant, beautiful. Everything that Rei loved.

The ice skater is not one he would have expected to like. He is young and boisterous-looking. Had they crossed paths in the street, Rei would not have taken any notice of him. Even his song choice matches what Rei assumes his personality must be - fun-loving and carefree. But somehow his movements are beautiful. The grace with which he lands from a jump, the speed of his spins. Everything about him is intriguing and entrancing.

Rei falls for him.

Once he finishes his first video, nothing can stop him from binging as many ice skating videos as he can find. Most of them are world-class skaters from different countries, especially Olympians. But time and time again, he comes back to the blond-haired skater he began with. He is certainly not perfect, not compared to the other skaters he watches. But this skater is beautiful regardless. Like a firework, he bursts into colour on the ice, every aspect of his performance alight and alive. What Rei would give to be able to see him live one day.

The opportunity comes a lot sooner than Rei expects it to.

His friend who sent him the video, Tachibana Makoto, buys him a ticket as an early birthday present.

“I’m going along too, of course,” he says. “I’d never miss a performance by Nanase Haruka.”

Rei understands why his friend is enamoured with Nanase. He’s cool and collected, flowing like a river across the ice. He is the most famous of the ice skaters performing at this particular competition. But it’s not Nanase that Rei is going to see. The skater Rei loves is performing there too.

By the time the day arrives, Rei feels he has educated himself enough on ice skating to be able to maximise his understanding and enjoyment of the event. Not only that, but he has also researched the skaters. The context isn’t necessary to enjoying their performances, but it gives Rei an excuse to look into his favourite skater’s background.

Hazuki Nagisa is a few months older than Rei and has been skating since he was eight years old, according to the JSF website. This is his third time competing in a regional competition. His goal is to aim for the Grand Prix Final, the most illustrious of the ISF figure skating events. This season, his theme is ‘happiness’. Such a broad and vague theme, and yet it seems to define everything Rei has seen him skate through online videos.

The moment Hazuki steps on the ice, Rei can feel his heart stop. Since it’s the short warm-up, he isn’t there for very long, and sometimes the other skaters get in the way, but most of the time, Rei gets a good view of him. His face doesn’t look as relaxed and carefree when he’s warming up. Maybe it’s because he’s concentrating on his programme, on the only jump he practises, which he lands without fail. Even so, his concentrating face is intriguing. Rei wants to know more of this skater’s serious side.

There are a few skaters before Hazuki. Of course, they’re all brilliant and Rei enjoys watching them. Nanase Haruka in particular is a crowd-pleaser. Beside him, Makoto looks like he might explode with excitement watching Nanase land a quad lutz. And it is amazing, Rei can admit. But it’s only when Hazuki’s turn arrives that his excitement blooms in his chest, his heart hammering.

On the ice, Hazuki does a quick lap to warm up. He waves at the crowd, and for a second, Rei swears he looks at him and smiles. But the moment passes, and Rei puts it down to coincidence. There’s no way that out of the whole crowd, Hazuki would pick one person to smile at. And in the case that he did, it’s unlikely he would choose Rei in particular.

The light catches the sequins on his costume in a stunning show of colour. It’s the waistcoat - gold and eye-catching, a bold choice for a bold skater. His shirt underneath is plain white, but it compliments the look perfectly. Hazuki looks as though he is glowing.

The music begins and he starts to skate. The piece is lively, paired with goofy facial expressions and slapstick dance moves, which merge seamlessly into awe-inspiring jumps. This boy manages to bring the arena to life. Everyone is clapping and cheering along. Even Rei feels like standing and cheering for him.

It is only halfway through the programme when Hazuki attempts his only quad jump, a quad toe loop. For a moment, when he’s in the air, it looks perfect. Then he mis-steps on the landing and falls, his hand stretching to catch himself on the ice. A half-second passes in which his face falls from its cheery facade into a grimace of pain. The moment passes, and he is skating once again, his grin returned to his face, though in a more forced manner. After that point, Rei notices he flourishes his hand less. He’s more careful with its movements.

Something cold runs down Rei’s spine, and he clutches the bouquet he brought to throw to Hazuki after the end of his performance more tightly. So much so that he doesn’t notice when the programme ends, and Hazuki has already left the ice by the time he returns to reality.

“I hope he’s okay,” Makoto muses. “That fall looked pretty painful, don’t you think- Rei?”

Rei is standing. He doesn’t know when he stood up. “I need to go.”

“At least wait until the end of the short programmes,” Makoto says, grabbing his wrist. “There are only a couple more skaters to go. Besides, you can’t just go and see someone you’ve never met, at least not until his hand’s been looked at.”

Begrudgingly, Rei returns to his seat.

The last couple of skaters could not have skated more slowly, in Rei’s opinion. But that’s his impatience showing, he knows this. The moment the final scores have been announced (Hazuki is in third place, but not here to celebrate it), Rei stands and heads for the steps leading out of the seating area. Makoto follows him hurriedly, grappling with his jacket as he walks.

It occurs to Rei when they leave the rink area that he doesn’t know where Hazuki might be. He finds a passing stranger and walks up to them.

“Excuse me, do you know where the infirmary is?”

The stranger turns around, looking blankly at him with intense blue eyes. It dawns on Rei a moment later that he accidentally asked skating star Nanase Haruka for directions.

Those blue eyes drift away from his, latching onto those of his friend for a second before returning to him. “Downstairs. There are signs.”

“Thank you very much,” Rei says, bowing. He moves out of the way, feeling kind of guilty for bugging the gold-medal winner of the competition.

But before he can walk away, he hears Makoto speak.

“Congratulations,” he says. “Your skate was incredible, Nanase-san.”

“Thanks,” Nanase says coolly.

“I’m a big fan of your skating.”

“Really?”

Rei shoots Makoto an apologetic look and heads in the direction of the stairs, leaving his friend to chat with the current holder of first-place, Nanase Haruka.

Luckily, Nanase’s directions were not wrong. Rei finds himself standing in front of the infirmary not two minutes later, the bouquet still clasped between tension-white fingers. He takes a deep breath, then knocks in three equal measures on the door.

A nurse opens the door. “Hello? Is something wrong?”

“I was wondering if Hazuki Nagisa is here,” Rei says, trying to keep his voice steady. His palms are a little sweaty. He wipes them on his trousers.

“Yes, he is. Are you here to visit him?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll let him know he has a visitor.” The nurse smiles before heading back into the room, closing the door behind her.

Rei tries to calm his erratic heart rate. This is nothing to be nervous about. He’s only visiting a figure skater, a few months older than him. It’s not as though this is a job interview or something. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

The door opens again. “Come on in.”

Shit, this is not fine.

Entering after the nurse, Rei finds himself in the infirmary. It’s much smaller than he would have expected it to be, especially considering they’re in a place where injuries must be commonplace. There is only one bed and a couple of chairs. The bed, closer to the edge of the room, is occupied by a blond-haired boy with his arm in a sling.

“Hazuki-san, this is your visitor.”

Hazuki looks up at him, his burgundy eyes wide with surprise. Then he grins. “Hi! I wasn’t expecting any visitors, this is a surprise!”

“I-I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” Rei says, internally cursing himself for stuttering.

“No, no, it’s fine! I’m flattered that you would want to visit me. Especially after I messed up my jump like that.” Hazuki lifts his right arm, as though to scratch the back of his head, then stops, flinching in pain. The arm returns to its resting position in the sling.

“No, your performance was incredible,” Rei says. “How you were able to get up and keep skating after that, I have no idea. It was amazing.”

“Aw, thank you!” Hazuki beams. “I couldn’t give up on my skate, even if I’d hurt myself, so I’m glad it wasn’t for nothing. Too bad I won’t be able to compete in the free skate.” He looks down for a second, then returns to smiling at him. “Anyway, what’s your name?”

“Ryugazaki Rei,” he says. “These are for you, by the way.”

Hazuki gasps and takes the proffered bouquet from him with his good arm. “Thank you so much, Ryugazaki Rei-chan!”

Rei blushes a little at the familiarity of his honorifics, but doesn’t complain. How can he, to a celebrity? “Watching you skate has given me a lot of joy over the past few weeks, ever since I got interested in figure skating. I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation.”

“You’re interested in skating?” Hazuki says. “Watching it or actually doing it?”

“I’ve never skated in my life,” Rei admits, “so probably just watching. I do ballet, anyway…”

“You do ballet? That’s amazing! I’m sure you look beautiful when you dance, Rei-chan.”

The compliment makes Rei’s heart stop again, and he isn’t sure he can recover this time. He got complimented by Hazuki Nagisa. “N-no, I’m not that good,” he says, looking away and scratching the back of his neck.

“Aw, you’re just saying that,” Hazuki says with a laugh. “I’d love to see you dance sometime, Rei-chan. And if you like ballet, then you should give skating a try someday. I’m sure you’d be good!”

“Th-thank you.”

The nurse reappears. “Hazuki-san, we have the results of your x-ray.”

“Okay, thanks!” Hazuki says, then turns back to Rei.

Rei gets the message before Nagisa speaks it. “I should probably get going.”

He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not, but Nagisa looks a little disappointed. “It was nice meeting you, Rei-chan. I hope we’ll meet again someday!”

“Me too,” Rei says, then bows his head. “Thank you. Please get well soon.”

The moment he gets out of the infirmary, he leans against the wall with a hand against his chest. His heart is pounding so quickly it feels like he might be back in the infirmary in a minute. He just met Hazuki Nagisa. Hazuki Nagisa complimented him. It feels like it must be a dream.

If it is a dream, Rei hopes it never ends. With a smile on his face, he heads back towards the stairs, part of him aching for the first time in his life to put on a pair of skates and hit the ice.

Never in Nagisa’s life did he expect someone to take over his life as quickly as Ryugazaki Rei does.

He’s been inspired by people before. The entire reason he decided not to quit skating after his disastrous first lesson is because Haru inspired him to keep going. All of his programmes are inspired by the fond memories he has with his friends. He’s spent his whole life surrounded by people.

But Ryugazaki Rei is different. Maybe the glimpse he catches of him in the crowd as he prepares for his short programme is the beginning of it. Ever since that glimpse, Nagisa has felt his eyes constantly drawn towards the man with blue hair and red glasses. The last thing he sees before he enters his quad toe loop is the light reflecting from those glasses. Even after he gets back up from his fall, hand hurting more than he knows is healthy, he finds himself looking over to where he sits in the stands. As though this time, he is skating to impress that stranger in particular.

As soon as his skate ends and he gets his score at the kiss and cry, he is ushered by his coach and Haru to the infirmary. Before they leave the arena, he looks back, trying to find that blue hair in the crowd. But he can’t see him.

Ryugazaki Rei is on his mind even as he gets his x-ray done, even as the nurse puts his arm in a sling to keep it elevated. The pain is starting to get to him, now, but thinking of Rei distracts him enough to numb it. That isn’t to say he’s not relieved when the nurse gives him pain medication, of course.

Then, as though it’s fate, the nurse tells him he has a visitor. Rather than another skater or a reporter, it’s Ryugazaki Rei himself, clutching a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

Their meeting is brief, but Nagisa can’t stop thinking about it after Rei leaves. Everything about it screams ‘fate’ at him. Maybe he should make that his programme theme next season. Fate. It has to be fate. Rei is the one he’s had his eye on all day, not to mention the fact that they both have girlish names. And he dances ballet, too! Oh, it has to have been fate. He hopes it is. That way, there’s more chance of them meeting again.

A few minutes later, Haru returns to see how he is. He catches Nagisa in the middle of taking a selfie, the bouquet of flowers balanced precariously on his slinged-up arm. He takes a shot. Deeming it acceptable, he flicks through the filters with one hand.

“Flowers?” Haru says in place of a greeting.

“Yeah, a guy called Ryugazaki Rei-chan gave them to me a few minutes ago.” Nagisa selects a filter which brings out the vibrancy of the flowers and his eyes, then starts typing a caption, each character taking an age to select. “How do you think that’s spelt? ‘Rei’.”

Haru shrugs. He’s never cared much about language or literature. If only Nagisa had thought to ask Rei which kanji his name uses.

“I could leave his name out,” Nagisa says, “but I want to mention him! We have to meet again, it’s fate!”

“Is that the guy you were staring at during your programme?”

“I wasn’t staring at him!”

Haru gives him a look which suggests otherwise.

“Okay, maybe a little. But how could I not? You must have seen him, Haru-chan, he’s gorgeous.” Nagisa goes on to gush about Rei; about his looks and his disposition, how cute his nerves were when Nagisa felt jittery seeing him walk into the room. In particular, he goes on at length about the fact that Rei dances ballet, and how that would make him perfect for figure skating, if he ever wanted to take it up.

“You really like this guy,” Haru observes when Nagisa pauses for breath.

Nagisa feels warmth rise to his cheeks and looks down at the flowers in his arms. “Yeah, I do.”

The picture, as usual, gets a substantial amount of likes as soon as he posts it on instagram. Since he doesn’t know the kanji for Rei’s name, he types the caption in English. He’s not quite an international figure skater yet, seeing as how he hasn’t been able to surpass Nationals so far - and it seems, once again, this isn’t the year in which he’ll qualify for the Grand Prix series. But at least using English might make him seem more accessible to international fans. Not only that, but it also makes it a lot easier to spell Rei’s name, using romanji.

He wonders if Rei has an instagram account. Rei doesn’t seem like the type of person to use social media much, but then again, how else would he have come across Nagisa’s skating before? He said he watched videos online, but he must have come across it on social media. He might not have instagram - but what about twitter? Nagisa hopes, if he does have an account, Rei will reach out to him at some point. Hopefully soon. Nagisa wasn’t lying to Rei when he said he wishes they can meet again someday.

Damn, he wants to skate. It’s too bad he can’t compete tomorrow. Getting injured was his own fault, of course, but he wishes it could have happened tomorrow, in his free programme when he doesn’t have another competition for a while afterwards. That would have given it time to heal. And considering his score today, he might have been able to reach the podium, this time.

Next time. In the next competition, he is going to give it his all. He is going to keep this motivation, given to him so kindly by Ryugazaki Rei, and he’s going to repay him with a beautiful performance. He wants to polish off his quad toe loop by that point, too. He feels the urge to improve, to practice, to come up with an even better programme.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Haru says when Nagisa expresses this to him. “You need to rest.”

Resting has always been difficult for Nagisa, though. He’s always been a restless person. Always on the go, wanting to move. Skating is perfect for him, in that sense. You can’t stand still on the ice and expect a perfect score. Not that stillness can’t be used to your advantage, of course. But what pleases the crowd is the speed of your skating, the height of your jumps. And that’s Nagisa’s favourite thing about skating. The constant movement. Always having something to do, somewhere to be.

Whilst his wrist is injured, he is forbidden from skating. It pains him, watching his friends glide across the ice and not being there with them. Seeing their scores climb the leader-board, watching his own fall, marked in grey to signify his being out of the running due to injury. Even when Haru wins, the gold medal gleaming against his chest, Nagisa can’t feel fully happy for him.

A week or so after his injury, Nagisa skates. He has to take it easy and not use his arms, because of his injury. But he skates regardless. Glides along the ice without direction, practises his step sequences. No spins or jumps. That doesn’t mean he can’t practice anything, though. He needs to stay close to the ice, or else he’ll fall out of practice, fall behind.

He glides to the edge of the rink for a drink, stopping beside where Haru is standing. For once, Haru is using his phone, texting someone.

“Who are you messaging?” Nagisa asks before taking a swig of his water.

“No one,” Haru replies, closing his phone. “Just taking a break.”

Nagisa knows Haru is lying, but he doesn’t get the chance to press him for answers. He skates away to practice as soon as Nagisa goes to speak.

Frowning, Nagisa looks at his own phone, devoid of messages. He wishes he had asked for Rei’s number. That way, he could have been much further into a friendship with Rei at this point. Maybe he could have convinced Rei to take up skating. Somehow, he finds himself navigating to his instagram account, finding the selfie with the bouquet. Four hundred likes, and he has no idea if any of them could be Rei. The comments don’t give any explanation either.

One clue. One indication. One way of contacting him. That’s all he’s asking for. All he wants to do is talk to Rei, get to know him. If fate would grant him this one wish, he’d ask for nothing more. He can’t let this person slip through his fingers.

Renewed with energy, Nagisa slips his phone back into his pocket and returns to practice, launching straight into a step sequence.

When Rei first decided he wanted to learn to skate, he understood the implications of such a venture. He is an adult, after all, already in university. He knows that ice skating lessons are not targeted at people in his age group. The fact that he’s able to find adult skating classes at all feels like a miracle.

Still, as glad as he is not to make a fool of himself in front of children, doing so in front of adults is intimidating on a whole other level.

As he ties his skates, he tries not to look at the other adults waiting in the prep area of his local ice rink. From a quick glance as he walked to and from the skate hire booth, he knows that only a few people are around his age, the rest being years older. The fact doesn’t intimidate him in terms of their skill levels - this is a beginner’s class, after all. He knows he won’t be the only one unable to skate at all.

But who knows what the difference in their skill levels will be after this first class.

Yanking the laces on his skates, he brings himself back to reality. This isn’t the time to be worrying about what others think of him. He needs to remember his resolve, he reminds himself as he double-knots the laces. If Nagisa knew he was thinking like this, he would be disappointed.

Rei finishes tying his skates and picks up his phone to check the time. There are still five minutes until the lesson’s starting time. He glances up, trying to avoid other people’s eyes, and notices the lockers at the other side of the room.

‘Shoot, I forgot to store my phone and coat in a locker.’

Well, there’s no time like the present.

Shakily, Rei stands on two thin blades, trying to focus his weight on his centre. As much as being a ballet dancer helps with this, he still stumbles like a newborn fawn on his way to the lockers. He keeps his head held high and tries not to think about the staring of the others in the room. With the help of some hand rails meant for kids, he makes it to the lockers and stores his belongings, popping a coin in to pay the fee before locking it and taking his key.

“Can group three enter the ice please?” a voice calls from the other side of the room, where he’d been sitting a moment ago.

‘And now for the journey back,’ Rei thinks with a grimace. He steels his resolve and walks to the other side again, managing not to break his ankle as he does. Honestly, how he is going to manage on the ice at this point, he has no idea.

His class group consists of around ten people, none of whom have familiar faces. The two coaches split them into groups of those who can skate and those who cannot. Rei joins the latter group on the ice, clinging to the barrier in what he hopes is a dignified manner, but knows is not. Beneath him, his feet slide around on the ice.

“We’re going to start by marching on the spot, keeping a hand on the barrier,” the coach taking his group says, demonstrating the movement from where she stands a few feet away from the barrier.

The movement is easy enough. It takes only a minute for Rei to feel comfortable doing it.

But then the instructor tells them to move.

At first it’s fine. He’s allowed to grip the barrier for support. It feels safer, this way, like he’s less likely to fall. But then the instructor tells them to let go of the barrier, if they’re comfortable enough, and to try to cross to the other side of the rink. In only a few minutes, Rei is the only one left clinging to the barrier he started at.

‘This is fine,’ Rei tells himself, even though he knows the opposite to be true.

The instructor is patient with him, at least. They tell him it’s fine for him to be unstable, considering this is his first time on the ice. Still, when at the end of the lesson he’s still marching along the same stretch of barrier (without holding on this time, at least), he can’t help the shame which colours his cheeks. It had been stupid, for him to feel so confident when he was booking the class. Now, as he follows the others off the ice, he only wants to stay on the ice and improve more, if only so he doesn’t look like so much of a fool next time.

So that’s what he does. Over the next week, he goes to the ice rink a few different nights and spends an hour marching along the barrier, legs growing more stable on the ice. By the next lesson, he impresses his instructor with his ability to go from one side of the rink to the other with such stability. After that, he is able to join the other beginner skaters as they learn how to march backwards, do bubbles across the ice, and the proper way to get up after falling. He is still slower at getting used to the manoeuvres than the others, but now he can reassure himself with the fact that he’s not still clinging to the barrier, at least.

When it gets to the fourth week of lessons, however, he begins to wonder if he can pull this off. There are only a couple of months left until the time when he wants to show Nagisa his skating, and he is still only a beginner. There is no way he’s going to be able to skate as beautifully as he wants to, at this rate. Especially not when he wanted to show Nagisa a routine of his own.

‘But,’ Rei thinks, heading to the dance studio for ballet practice one morning, ‘I can show him a routine on land, at least.’

It won’t have the same effect as being able to skate it would. But if he manages to choreograph a dance which he could eventually learn to skate to, then surely that would impress Nagisa, right? After all, the blond wanted to see his dancing. What was it he had said? That he would look beautiful when he danced, right?

Well, if he can’t skate his routine, then he might as well rely on his better skills and wait to show off his newer ones when they are more refined.

Pulling his ballet slippers onto his feet, Rei heads to the barre to stretch, a new resolve filling his veins.

By the time Nationals arrive, Rei is relieved to find himself armed with a basic proficiency of skating and a ballet routine practised to perfection. Having this gives him some assurance as he enters the arena where Nationals are being held. There’s no way he will disappoint Nagisa, surely.

The arena in which the Nationals are being held is packed, surprisingly. Rei wonders if it’s because Nanase Haruka, the silver-medal winner of the Grand Prix Final less than a month ago, will be competing here today. He knows that’s why Makoto is here, at least. The two of them make their way to their seats, chatting between themselves about what they’re expecting from today.

Today is the free skate for men’s singles. Unfortunately, Rei hadn’t been able to get tickets to the short programme event, but that doesn’t matter. As long as he’s here today, he can get his message to Nagisa.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Japan Figure Skating Championships,” a lady says over the loudspeaker. “Tonight is the men’s singles free skate event. Please welcome the competing skaters to the ice.”

The audience applaud with vigour as the six skaters take to the ice, waving up at the crowd. It doesn’t take long for Rei to spot Nagisa, standing out in a pink outfit which looks almost like something a fairytale prince would wear. The blond scans the crowd as he waves, and for a moment, Rei is convinced that Nagisa’s smile grows when their eyes meet.

Then the announcer begins introducing the individual skaters, and Nagisa is facing the other way again.

Rei is here. Rei is here.

Nagisa can’t stop thinking about it. About him.

He’s here.

It’s been almost half a year since their last meeting, and he’s here. Finally, he can see him again. After his free skate, he hopes he can catch Rei before he leaves. There’s a lot he wants to talk to him about.

During the warm up, when Nagisa stops to take a drink, Haru joins him at the edge of the rink.

“He’s here again,” Haru says.

“I know,” Nagisa replies, unable to contain the grin which stretches across his lips.

“Don’t get distracted by him this time.”

“I didn’t get distracted by him!” Even as he says this, he knows it isn’t entirely true. But this time, he’s going to keep his thoughts on the ice. On the emotions of his performance.

“Be careful,” Haru says, putting down his water bottle and returning to the ice.

Nagisa is going to be careful, sure. But at the same time, he feels like his programme will be anything but careful. He isn’t going to hold anything back. This time, he’ll make sure to earn a spot on the podium. This time, he’ll earn Rei’s awe. He’ll make sure nothing goes wrong.

Nagisa is the last to skate.

Sitting through the other performances is stress-inducing. He enjoys watching the other skaters, of course, but he wants to see Nagisa skate. And the standard is high already, watching everyone who skates before him. They’re barely making any mistakes at all. It makes Rei worry that Nagisa might be feeling nervous.

When Nagisa enters the ice, Rei’s worries are dispelled. Looking at him, Nagisa knows this is where he is meant to be. Soaking in the atmosphere, dancing on the ice. And when Nagisa’s eyes meet his, wide and bright and filled with life, Rei smiles back at him.

Nagisa skates to the centre of the ice after a short warm-up, takes a deep breath, in, out. Then he enters his starting position, arms loose by his side, head facing down. The crowd goes silent.

Music swells through the speakers, and Nagisa blooms.

This programme is like nothing Rei has seen from Nagisa before. It’s as though he is an entirely different skater. Not that the components are much different, of course. But the emotions and sentiment running through the piece are different. Deeper, somehow. He is seeing a new side to Nagisa, a more mature side. One which is sorrowful, casting longing gazes across the arena, as though searching for something.

For the first time in a long time, Rei’s heart is full.

The piece is about longing.

Nagisa searched and searched for a piece which would suit his programme theme for this year - fate. He wouldn’t settle for any random piece. It had to be the perfect piece. His coach was going ballistic by the time Nagisa found this particular song. But it is a match made in heaven. He wouldn’t have been able to skate this programme to anything else.

In the story he has crafted for the programme, a young man (i.e. him) searches for love, but can’t find it anywhere. He constantly finds partners, then loses them. It’s never love. Until one day, he meets someone who turns his world around, then disappears. From that moment, he searches for this person desperately, until at the end of the programme, he finds the one he loves and pulls them close.

Haru and the other skaters he trains with constantly tease him for the programme. It’s too cheesy, they tell him. He’s being too obvious about his feelings for this guy he’s only met once. But Nagisa doesn’t care. He wants to make his feelings obvious. He wants Rei to watch this programme and know it’s being skated for him.

For the first half of the programme, he intentionally keeps his eyes away from Rei. It’s difficult, since his heart pulls him in that direction, but he resists. After all, this pining adds to the mood of this part of the story. It also makes him more determined as he enters his only quad, the quad toe loop he fell on the last time he saw Rei. He makes the landing, hears the crowd cheering, and tries to refrain from smiling. Only a little longer.

Finally, the music flutters into a major key, strings building up the atmosphere. Coming out of the step sequence, he looks over to Rei.

That momentary glimpse of Rei is all he needs. Those lilac eyes are filled with awe, glistening even from so far away. His lips fall open when their eyes meet. Nagisa feels his heart burst.

He skates into his combination spin, falling into a dizzying love.

Nagisa is beautiful.

The moment their eyes meet, there is no denying it. Not that he would have denied it in the first place, of course. Nagisa is beautiful, and has been since the first time he saw him. But it’s only when his face lights up, catching Rei’s eye in the middle of his skate, that it really strikes him. This boy is so, so beautiful.

From that point on, Nagisa doesn’t shy away from looking at Rei. He gestures in Rei’s direction, opens himself up and lets his feelings flow. At one point, he looks lost, as though he has misplaced something. Chasing around the rink, he holds his hand out, reaching for something invisible. He speeds into a combination jump, triple flip, single loop, triple toe. Still searching.

The climax of the programme arrives with tremendous percussion, strings lifting them into another realm of being. Nagisa enters another spin, the sequins on his costume casting light across the room. Finally, he stops spinning and looks up at Rei again. Eyes brighten, and he smiles, more beautiful than any other smile Rei has ever been given. He ends the programme with his hands outstretched, head tipped back as though in relief.

Despite the noise of the crowd cheering, everything feels silent to Rei. He is numb. All he feels is the constant beat of his heart, and the rush of affection in his veins. Standing, he throws his bouquet of flowers onto the ice, where they land almost perfectly in front of Nagisa, who is taking his bows.

Nagisa gasps and picks up the bouquet, giving them the same affectionate look as he gave the ones from half a year ago. Then he looks up to Rei, puts a hand to his lips, and blows a kiss in his direction.

Rei’s breath hitches.

A moment later, Nagisa is at the edge of the rink, putting on his skate guards as a few young girls pick up the other flowers and memorabilia that have been thrown to the ice for him. Now is the difficult part - waiting for Nagisa’s score and praying that he makes it onto the podium. After a flawless performance like that, Rei is sure he will get enough points. He has faith in Nagisa.

“Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” Makoto teases him.

Though he rebuts his friend’s joke, he can’t help the smile which crosses his face at the thought of being someone Nagisa admires.

Meet me at the public rink after the closing ceremony.

Most years, Nagisa would not have time to fulfil such a request. Especially after earning a bronze medal. After all, there are still press conferences and interviews to do before he can get ready for the post-Nationals banquet later on. But today, he is making the time.

After begging his coach to let him go, Nagisa rushes out of the arena, disguised in a cap and sunglasses, and runs in the direction of the public rink. It’s only a five-minute walk from the arena, making it easy for him to get there. In his head, he thanks Rei for choosing somewhere so close by.

Nagisa’s mind is bursting with questions. As much as he wants to see Rei, he wonders why Rei picked the public skating rink, of all places. He wonders if Rei understood the message of his free skate. (It wasn’t exactly subtle, as his rink mates constantly remind him.) He wants to know if Rei feels the same.

Part of him wonders (and maybe dares even to hope) if Rei wants to show him something on the ice. Maybe he’s learnt to skate something - it’s only been a few months, and Rei had said he hadn’t skated before, but he seems like the type of person who could easily learn a new skill in an incredibly short amount of time. Or maybe he thought Nagisa would feel more comfortable at an ice rink, one which will be quiet at this time of the evening.

For the most part, he doesn’t worry too much. He lets his elation carry him into the foyer of the rink, where a receptionist smiles knowingly and points him towards the arena.

The double doors are already open when he reaches them, so his entrance goes unnoticed by the sole person forming figure eights on the ice. Nagisa simply stares, for a minute or two, entranced by how gracefully Rei holds himself on the ice, how natural his movements seem even though he’s still a newcomer to the sport. It’s as though he was born to be on the ice - or maybe it’s the way he holds himself, drilled into him through years of ballet classes.

Still, the moment cannot last forever. Eventually, Rei looks up and notices Nagisa. He startles and falls back onto the ice in surprise.

“Rei-chan!” Nagisa says, hurrying to the side of the rink. Rei is already picking himself back up, probably used to falling from months of practising. “You can skate now?!”

Smiling a little, Rei looks down at his snow-covered thighs. “I got lessons, after I met you. You inspired me.”

“That’s amazing, Rei-chan!” Nagisa beams, pride filling his every bone. “You look like a natural.”

“I’m not that good, honestly,” Rei says, waving the compliments off. “I actually wanted to be better, by this point, but it was too much to achieve in such a short time.”

“Well yeah, you’ve only been skating for three months, right?” Nagisa leans on the barrier separating them. “Even what you were doing is pretty good for three months.”

After a moment, Nagisa remembers the bouquet. “Oh yeah, is this why you wanted me to come here?”

Rei nods, moving a little closer to the edge of the rink. “Yes, partially. I wanted to show you that I’ve learnt to skate, because you inspired me to do so. But there’s something else I want to show you, too.”

“Ooh, what is it?”

“Give me a minute to take off my skates, and I can show you.”

Nagisa bounces on the spot as Rei skates off the ice and removes his skates - pristine black skates with sharp blades, certainly not rental ones. His smile grows at the idea that Rei is taking this so seriously. Mind wandering to daydreams of skating alongside him, he doesn’t notice Rei standing up until he says his name a couple of times.

Rei takes him into an exercise room within the ice skating centre. It looks like it’s usually a weights and fitness room, but a large space has been cleared on the centre of the floor. At the far end of the room, where Rei takes Nagisa, there is a sound system and some chairs. Nagisa takes a seat and watches as Rei changes into ballet slippers. The dancer then navigates to a song on his phone and hooks it up to the stereo, handing it to Nagisa when he’s done.

“Can you press play for me?”

Without a word, Nagisa nods, eyes never leaving Rei as the dancer moves to the centre of the room, taking position with his head hung low. Nagisa presses play.

The humming of violins comes through the speakers, drawing Rei upright. This time, though, he is different - not only because he’s taken off his glasses, though. His entire demeanour is lost in a story Nagisa is only now being told, his face filled with sadness. Arms circle in languid movements, and he rises into an arabesque, pausing as the music does.

Then it picks up. Something catches Rei’s eye, and he dances to follow it, every movement graceful and precise. He begins to smile more, eyes alight with something which flares inside of Nagisa. The dance feels like a direct response to his own free skate, if that’s even possible. Could this be Rei’s side of the story?

As the music progresses into its final coda, Rei slows down with it. His movements flow once more with slow elegance, but this time, they are filled with something like hope. He finishes on his knees, arms outstretched towards Nagisa, eyes burning with emotion.

The music ends, but the atmosphere hangs in the air for a long time afterwards. It takes a minute or so for Nagisa to react, and when he does, it’s immediate. He stands and launches himself into Rei’s ready arms, tears welling up in his eyes. Rei catches him, arms encircling him with so much care it almost pains him.

“You’re so beautiful, Rei-chan,” Nagisa gasps through his tears.

Rei’s reply is almost inaudible, but Nagisa catches it regardless. “You’re the beautiful one, Nagisa-kun.”

They stay like that, caught in each other’s embrace, for a while, unaware of time passing around them. When they untangle, it takes only seconds for laughter to fill their lungs, giddiness finally seizing them. Finally, both of them have found the things they were searching for.

And later, both Nagisa and Rei will know that this is something they will never let go of. From the beginning until the end, every movement will draw them in, enthralled until the final curtain is drawn.

#reigisa #reigisaweek #reigisa week #free!#free! fanfiction #fanfiction #not a yoi au but still about figure skating shoot me #i wrote this while yoi was still airing so can you really blame me #it's 7k words so i just had to use it

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silvershadow1398 · 5 years

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#80 100 QUESTIONS

Are you young at heart, or an old soul? Idk, both in different ways

What makes someone a best friend? To me, someone I can be around 24/7 and not get tired of bc I get tired of everyone normally

What Christmas (or Hanukkah) present do you remember the most? I got a GoPro this year

Tell me about a movie/song/tv show/play/book that has changed your life. Happy Feet is the reason why the emperor penguin is my favorite animal

Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike. I have nice hair, but I hate my face

Would you like to reconnect with any friends you’ve lost contact with? Sure, maybe a few from high school

What’s more important in a relationship: physical attraction or emotional connection? Emotional connection

Name a movie that you knew would be terrible just from reading the title. Emoji movie

What holiday do you most look forward to? Christmas

How is the relationship between you and your parents? Not perfect, but very good

You’ve got the TV on, but you’re not really watching. What channel is the TV on? Usually the news

Name a song that never fails to make you happy. Anything by Muse

You know at least one person named Michael. Tell me about him. The brother of the only guy I’ve ever kissed

Have you ever read the “missed connections” on Craigslist? Have you ever posted one, or wanted to? No

If you could pick anywhere to live the rest of your life, where would it be? Kennebunkport, Maine

Can money buy happiness? It helps, but no

Do you drink? Smoke? Do drugs? Why, or why not? Nope to both

Is there anyone close to you that you know you can’t trust? You don’t have to give names. There’s a lot of people I don’t trust

Where was your favorite place to go when you were a little kid? The bookstore

Have you ever spent a night in the hospital? No

Do you enjoy being with only one or two friends, or with a large group of people? I like being with 2-8 friends

Do you like the type of music your parents listen to? Do your parents like the type of music you listen to? Not really, and I don’t think they care for the most part but they’ve enjoyed songs I’ve showed them

Have you ever been bullied? Have you ever bullied anyone else? Yes and yes

If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? Spaghetti

If your partner wanted to wait until marriage before having sex, would you stay in that relationship? Of course and sometimes I feel that way

Do you believe in a god? Sure

Of all the social networks in the world, why use Tumblr? I can be fully honest here, no judgment

What’s your favorite Tumblr tag to track? Any of my fandoms

Would you call yourself/your family “middle class?” Yes

Name a TV series you didn’t enjoy until after it ended. Idk I don’t watch TV that much

Have you ever bought a product from an infomercial? Yes

If you could give up your car and never have to drive again, would you? If I could find another way to get around, yes

If you go back to one point in time to give advice to yourself, when would you go and what would you say? Don’t take 6 weeks of summer intensive, get a job instead

What’s your “quirkiest” habit? I click the right side of my jaw

What is “normal?” Are you normal? You live up to society’s expectations and no one judges you or laughs at you, I am NOWHERE NEAR normal

Someone close to you is dying. You have the choice to let this person live for 10 more years, but if you do, you cause the death of 10 strangers. You don’t have to see them die. Do you take the offer? Pretty grim, but yes…

What is one thing you could never forgive? People who have used me and/or were fake to me

Would you rather be in a relationship after the honeymoon period ends, or be single? It depends on how much I care for and love the person

Is it possible for guys and girls to be just friends? Of course

Where do you and your friends go to hang out? One of our dorm rooms

Write the first paragraph of your obituary. Jesus Christ I am choosing not to go there rn

What is the best TV theme song ever? Everywhere You Go, Full House

When you were young, what would you dream you would be when you grew up? Pilot or astronaut

When you’re alone in your own home, do you walk around naked? No

What gets you out of bed in the morning? Needing to pee

Do you want to have more friends than you have right now? Yes

What part of the past year sticks out in your mind? When I got accepted to my study abroad university

You win a scratch-off lottery game that gives you $2000 a week (after taxes) for the rest of your life. Do you keep your job? Nope!

Could you be in a long-distance relationship? If you’re in one, what makes yours work? If I really really care about this person and see a future with them, then we’d figure it out!

What’s the best route to your heart? You accept me for who I am and you’re not socially tiring to be around

Have you ever met someone through the internet, then met them in real life? No

What is your favorite sport? I dance, but I enjoy watching gymnastics and figure skating

What has been troubling you lately? Stress over upcoming travel

Did you enjoy your high school prom? If you haven’t gotten there yet, do you look forward to it? If you didn’t go, why not? Lol no I hated it

What do you use more often: your intuition or logical reasoning? Logical reasoning

Do you know what makes you happy? Anything in which I can be in the moment and truly enjoy life

Tell me about the last book you read. I don’t remember

What is the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? Someone at school told me they liked my eyeliner

Who was your first crush? A boy when I was in 3rd grade… ugh

Do you believe that there is life on other planets? Yes

Predict what your life will look like a year from now. My final semester of college!

Often, people will ask how your last relationship ended. I want to know how it began. Never been in a relationship

Where is your favorite place to go out and eat? Any Italian restaurant

What is something you want to change about your current situation? Can I just go to Australia already

Early bird or night owl? Night owl af

Are there any childhood possessions you still hold on to? Yes

Give me an unpopular opinion you have. I am not a huge fan of Harry Potter! I have a house, I definitely know things about Harry Potter, and I support people who enjoy it, but I’m not a fan!

What was the last song that was stuck in your head? The Lollipop song lol

Where do you live? Be as general or specific as you want. New England USA

Do you believe in giving kids medals and trophies for participation? I believe in giving medals and trophies for achievements, but not to define first, second, third, etc. place

What was the longest car ride you’ve ever taken? 13 hours

Have you ever taken part in a protest? No

Would you ever use an online dating service? NO

What is your ethnic heritage? Chinese

Describe a person that inspires you. Dan Howell and Phil Lester

If you earn minimum wage doing what you love, would you? No

Do you believe in luck? Yes

Describe the last time you were very angry at someone. Chances are I’m probably very upset while dealing with people I dance with the majority of the time

Do you want to live until you’re 100? Nah

Do people change? If so, how do you keep a relationship together when both of you start to change? Yes, you have to support each other and be there to help the change occur in a good way

Have you ever risked a friendship by telling someone you liked them? No

Would you rather be alone doing something you enjoy, or doing something you don’t like with your best friends? Alone doing something I enjoy

Do you practice what you preach? I try

If you take precautions to stay safe, do you ultimately act more recklessly? Nope

What do you value more in a significant other: Attractiveness or intelligence? Intelligence

Are you hard-headed? Not 100%, but yes

Have you ever laughed uncontrollably when it was socially inappropriate? Not uncontrollably, but yes I’ve laughed

When have you felt most alive? When I do something I didn’t think I could do before, and when I achieve something

Would you prefer to live? A city? The suburbs? The countryside? The mountains? Somewhere between city and suburbs

Do you often skip breakfast? No

How do you know what true love is? Never experienced it so idk

Would you want to know the exact date and time you were going to die? Not really

Where is “home” for you? The place in my current residence which I feel safest

What song best describes your life right now? Idk

Do you want to be perfect? I used to want it and I still struggle occasionally with it, but ultimately no

What have you never tried, but would really like to someday? What’s holding you back? Having an amazing job and being able to travel a lot, I am still financially and emotionally dependent on my parents lol

How do you express your creativity? Dance, photography

Describe your neighborhood. I don’t talk to anyone

Name something you only liked because it was popular. Idk, music maybe

Give me the story of your life in six words. Chinese adoptee who doesn’t know herself

#about me

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