#Source: From Whose Line is it Anyway

[totallycorrectjediorderquotes]

Ahsoka: Ah, I am a woman!

Rex: Have you not noticed?

Ahsoka: No I've been too busy shouting!

#Submitted by Waywardstoryenthusiast #do not tag as rexsoka #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #501st legion #the vode #star wars: the expanded universe #tcw #star wars: the clone wars #star wars the prequel trilogy #incorrect star wars quotes #Source: From Whose Line is it Anyway #submission

[aeide-thea]

NB: i add image descriptions to posts when i feel up to it, for walking-my-accessibility-talk reasons, but i don't claim to be particularly expert at it, and i'm always open to feedback about ways my image descriptions could be improved! that said: please don't actively delete image descriptions i've added to posts you reblog from me. if you feel the need to excise my contribution for whatever reason, you can reblog the post from a different source. thanks!

#would have thought this was just‚ like‚ basic etiquette but—apparently not‚ lol #that said‚ i don't tend to @ friends in the body of posts—i'll either tag them or send them the post directly— #but if i did‚ you'd be more than welcome to delete that! #the distinction being that @-ing people is communication directed at them and only them‚ and so irrelevant to subsequent audiences #whereas image descriptions are absolutely intended for the benefit of users down the line #anyway i will never hold reblogging from another source against you #and i'd be happy to hear from anyone whose beef with my image descriptions is with a quality of them that i can improve #anyway. no immediate context for this‚ just like‚ something happened a bit ago that made it seem worth Stating Publicly #have attempted to state it politely bc it isn't really beef‚ just a boundary: if you do this to me i will probably at least softblock you. #anyway that's all‚ folks! thx 4 listening. :3 #metatumbling

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hi!!! Would it be okay if I requested a worried head cannon for Astarion(Or Wyll or Halsin, I’m fine with any of them) where they lost track of Tav while on a scouting/stealth mission or on the battlefield? Thank you!

A/N: I went with losing track of their Tav on a stealth mission because that seemed the most anxiety-inducing… lol. Poor boys. Sorry, it’s not my best, I was rushing :( 

✧ Losing Track of Their Tav on A Stealth Mission ✧

Astarion: 

The most likely to panic, even though he swears he’d be the last to do so. 

He’s running all the worst-case scenarios through his head: you’ve been killed, you’ve been captured, you’re being enslaved just like he is…

Immediately jumps to the worry that Cazador or someone working for him has realized the two of you are together and plans to get to him through you.

He considers getting one of his companion’s attention but ultimately decides to continue sneaking in alone. He’s pretty good at sneaking, and the others could screw it up. He can’t leave your fate in the hands of someone klutzy like Gale accidentally casting fireball and alerting everyone to their presence. 

If he wasn’t intent on killing anyone in his way, he is now. They mean nothing to him. You mean everything to him. Do the math. You > Them. 

Definitely ends up compromising the mission, by either getting seen and alerting everyone or by causing enough chaos and death that people begin to notice. But none of that matters anymore to Astarion, whose only goal is finding you. Of course, if anyone else was to make that mistake, he’d chew them out for it. But he can’t see how hypocritical he’s being: all he can think about is your safety. 

When he finds you, he masks his fear with anger. He calls you an idiot, a fool- every name in the book. He doesn’t intend to hurt your feelings, he just doesn’t like how his affection for you puts him in a vulnerable place. He was terrified of losing you. The fear of that greatly outweighs the fear of the tadpole. 

He’ll get you away from there, away from everyone else. He can’t trust the strangers of Baldur’s Gate, and he doesn’t want his companions to see him this emotional. 

After the two of you are back to safety, and after he finishes berating you, he yanks you into a tight hug, refusing to let go. 

You tell him you’re sorry, and that it’s over now and you inform him it’s okay to let it out. Be prepared for the shoulder of your top to become soaked in tears. He’ll cry into you, telling you in between sobs how you were the first person in forever to see him as an equal. He needs you. You are the only one who sees him. He can’t lose you. 

After he’s calmed down, he’ll try to lighten the mood with a joke. Something about also being afraid to lose his very own privately stocked food source. Of course, you see right through the facade. You let him feed after that comment anyway, softly petting his hair as he does so. 

And even though normally while feeding, he’d be comforting you, telling you it’s alright, that it’s almost over- you end up comforting him, shushing him, and telling him the two of you will be okay- you’re not going anywhere. 

Wyll: 

Probably the most level-headed in his reaction, even if his thoughts are racing like mad. As the Blade of Frontiers, he’s learned how to think strategically in most situations. Of course, that’s easier said than done when someone you know and love is personally on the line. 

He’s figuring out all the possibilities, working out how likely each one is, in order to figure out which avenues to first explore. 

He continues on his own before remembering he’s not acting solo anymore. He’ll round back to where the others are stationed, and give them the news. He tells them the mission’s priorities have changed, and the goal for now is to find you. 

He doesn’t plan on completely abandoning the original job of course. He intends to get right back to business. He can keep both ideas in his head

Tries his best not to blow the original mission while looking for you. Of course, when push comes to shove, he’s going to choose you. The mission can be tried again at a later time: he can’t lose you. He’s lost too much in this life to accept having to part with another. 

If he has no leads and it's been a while, and he’s growing increasingly nervous, he might consider calling Mizora and asking for her help, even though he knows it’s going to cost him more years of servitude. Having to work for a devil is much more bearable when there’s someone you love. He’d make a thousand deals if it meant you’d stay safe. 

Once he finds you, he’ll quickly ask if you’re alright, before ushering everyone out. He wants nothing more than to speak to you freely, but he knows right then isn't the time to do it. 

After you are safely far enough away, either back at camp, or somewhere secluded, he’ll firmly but kindly demand to know what the hell you were thinking, sneaking off like that?! He wants you to know he was worried, dammit! He loves you! Can’t you see how much losing you would hurt him? 

He’ll take you into his arms and place a soft kiss on your forehead. You are so precious to him. Please, please, he asks, be more careful. 

He vows to be at your side for any future stealth missions. He loves how brave you are, and how much you want to protect him. Just let him protect you in return. 

Halsin: 

Halsin probably reacts the least because he has the most faith that you’ll be okay. He sees you as his savior- a savior of his people, of the grove, of the tieflings- you are the most incredible person to him. 

That being said, he’s not going to simply do nothing if he thinks you’ve run into trouble. You mean so much to him, of course he’s going to change courses and instead go search for you! 

He’s also going to rope the others into helping him. I mean, he’s not forcing them or anything, but he does regroup and tell the others of his concerns. He’s very calm and level-headed, but also quite determined, so the others have few qualms about switching gears and following him. 

He’s also the most adept at staying hidden while looking for you, being able to wild shape into an inconspicuous animal like a cat or a rat or a bird. He uses his druid abilities to his advantage, steering clear of confrontation as he makes a beeline to where your scent takes him. 

Once he finds you, if you yourself haven't been discovered and taken, he’ll stay in animal form, and carefully guide you to a reliable exit. However, if you’ve already been caught, be prepared for things to get hairy. (Get it? Hairy?) 

He will not hesitate to shift into a big-ass bear and rip people’s throats out as he carries you on his back to safety. Even though this makes him a much more large and obvious target, he’ll do it, if it means keeping you protected. Any hits or damage he can take, he can heal from, all the less pain you have to endure. 

He absolutely brings you somewhere outside of the city. He feels safest in nature, and in order to calm down, he needs free-flowing nature, which is hard to come by in Baldur’s Gate.

He’s going to squish you- even if you’re bigger than him. He’ll lay you down gently, before resting on top of you, keeping balanced so that you don’t have to support all of his weight. He needs to be close to you, preferably with skin-to-skin contact. He needs your warmth, your smell, the softness of your skin… It centers him and brings him back down to earth. 

He’ll voice his worries while simultaneously complimenting your skill. He doesn't want you to feel incapable, but he must let you know how he felt in that moment when he feared you were hurt or worse. 

You are his light, you brought him out of the shadows. And he can’t bear to lose you. Please, don’t fade away. Don’t leave him in darkness once more. 

...

Please Like & Reblog!!!

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #wyll imagine #halsin x reader #halsin imagine #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 #hc #hcs

[thydungeongal]

The term "terrorism" is extremely loaded in its application, because while the generally accepted definition simply states that it's the use of violence to inspire fear, especially when targeted towards a civilian population, to achieve political aims, in actual fact in most discourse the way it gets applied is to distinguish between legitimate violence used by the militaries of the good states versus the illegitimate violence used by bad states or non-state actors, despite the actual methods used. It's important to note that the term "terrorism" itself is entirely without value judgement, but in popular discourse it's effectively "bad violence done by bad people."

This is important because the actions of many states whose violence is often legitimized can easily be seen through the lens of terrorism, but the term gets applied extremely selectively. The United States' use of nuclear bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki is one example: it specifically targeted civilian populations with the intent of speeding up the resolution of the war (whether it was politically necessary when a lot of sources indicate that the Japanese were already willing to talk peace is arguable; in my opinion, regardless of political necessity, it was ultimately morally indefensible), so it effectively was the use of military power with the intent of causing fear. Similarly, the shock and awe campaign on Baghdad as part of the 2003 invasion of Iraq could easily be framed as terrorism used by a state military. But in actual discourse this parallel is very rarely drawn, because terrorism is bad violence used by illegitimate actors and shock and awe tactics are just normal.

We have state militaries using social media to communicate to civilians that their only intent is to strike fear as they launch another air strike which wipes out civilian infrastructure and results in untold civilian casualties. But it is not generally talked about as state terror. We have people living under constant military rule or siege, constantly subjected to the fear of the occupying military force driving them out of their homes to make room for more settlers. Civilian infrastructure is often targeted to make life a living hell. Supply lines are disrupted, up to and including the prevention of aid, to make living conditions inhospitable. But as long as it's done by a legitimized state actor, it does not count as terrorism. (Having said that, violent resistance against occupation or state violence is often described as terrorism.)

Anyway, you know which state does get regularly framed as doing a terrorism? Russia. And I don't think that's inaccurate, as the Russian invasion of Ukraine has definitely hinged on using violence which often indiscriminately targets the civilian population to instill fear and to further their military goals. And many people frame this as the doing of a rogue terrorist state.

But that word "rogue" is important here, because a lot of well-meaning people keep using it to imply that the state doing the violence isn't legitimate. I personally don't think the legitimacy or statehood of a given actor is a useful metric in how to judge their actions. States are often used to grant legitimacy to violence. To illegitimize state violence the easiest trick is to argue that the state is somehow illegitimate. "Good," legitimate states only do shock and awe. "Bad," rogue states do state terrorism. In fact, the denial of statehood from one's enemies can be a useful tactic in illegitimizing their resistance while legitimizing the use of state violence to quell resistance. It allows one to paint the enemy as an unruly mob that needs to be contained by the legitimate institutions of the state.

The violence done by state actors is not automatically legitimate, and in fact statehood can often be used to argue for the legitimacy of violence. The violence done by non-state actors is not automatically illegitimate, and while non-state actors can often engage in violent acts comparable to state terror, non-state violence can often emerge as a legitimate reaction to state violence.

This is all good to keep in mind when looking into discourse that circles around terrorism and the legitimacy/illegitimacy of violence by various actors. Terrorism itself is an extremely charged term in its application and how selectively it is applied.

[artbyblastweave]

Okay, Time for that belated Shrinking Rae post-

In the comics, Shrinking Ray's "arc" (bearing in mind an extremely liberal definition of that term, they had exactly one scene showcasing this) was that he was implied to be developing an inferiority complex; he's not necessarily incompetent, but he's out of his niche, his clever shrinking-based plans kept getting upstaged by brute-force solutions from the more conventionally powerful heroes like Invincible. He's the scrawny, nerdy little guy with the joke powers, he never gets a win, and in most fights he literally isn't visible. In the fight with the Lizard League his death is framed as pathetic and ineffectual- there's one or two panels between "I'll make you pay!" and getting eaten alive by Komodo. All of this is doing a couple of things- it's emphasizing that again, this is in fact a story and setting where superheroes sometimes just die really badly with limited fanfare- a thing that IIRC hadn't happened since the original Guardians team wipe in issue 7. Second, it's an indicator that the new Guardians are structurally kind of on the ropes. They're heavily staffed by second stringers, they exact second they have to split their forces they suffer a 66 percent casualty rate, and that's with backing from two capes who aren't actually part of the team. Grim! Anyway, when they do the adaptation Shrinking Ray becomes Shrinking Rae, because they want to tweak the gender balance of the cast and the pun is too good to pass up. But I think that there was a reasonable reluctance to transfer the "arc" from the comics one-to-one, because to be blunt, "Ineffectual Nebbish Glasses-wearer who whines a lot and dies pathetically," paired with absolutely nothing else, is gonna read as misogynistic if the character is a woman now. So in the adaptation Rae is markedly more competent. We're introduced to her taking down a much larger opponent by fucking around inside his ear canal, which becomes a favored trick of hers. There are traces of the self-esteem thing- the visual gag where she physically shrinks about a foot when getting chewed out in the briefing- but the overall throughline isn't "look at this loser who somehow ended up on the guardians." In the Lizard League fight, she doesn't get eaten- she's deliberately trying to execute a Thanus maneuver and just fucks it up, seconds after successfully killing a different villain the same way. And there's a second where it looks like it might work, too, before hope is cruelly yanked away. Which makes for a markedly cooler death scene- but who died? What was actually going on with her? Anything? In some sense she's cooler, but it's kind of an undifferentiated cool. She had what, Six lines? Seven? On balance I think Rae is still doing her fundamental job in the story, which is to pad the Guardians roster for a while and have someone who actually dies and stays dead as a result of the Lizard League fight- but I think they definitely missed an opportunity to give her some more texture than her comic counterpart had. Part of me thinks that the show would have been a good place to go even harder on Shrinking Rae being in over her head, but in a considered way, to emphasize that the Guardians aren't well managed- maybe tie it into the tensions between Robot and Immortal regarding sustainable team management practices. Part of me thinks you should go the other way, that if you're gonna do away with the idea she's underwhelming you should blow up her role, have her actually say and do some things that affect the story or the team dynamic in any noticeable way, because as it stands she's kind of visibly siloed as the designated mauve shirt. I'm definitely of one mind that this showcases something I suspected was gonna bite the show in the ass, which is that they're (laudably) diversifying a secondary and tertiary cast whose main role in the source material is often to die badly or fade out of focus.

#invincible #shrinking rae #invincible spoilers #thoughts #meta #invincible comic #invincible season 2 episode 5 #800 words of meta on a character with six lines and a brooklyn accent jumpscare

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Gay ships getting screwed over by homophobic producers/writers as soon as they get wind of it is nothing new, but what has been done to stucky really is uniquely cruel. 

I’ve never heard of a gay ship having one member’s importance to the other simply... written out of the show/film? (Has this been done?) 

Never heard of a gay ship having decades of important source material about them deliberately sabotaged just to spite a  gay ship (that wasn’t even canonically gay or ever going to be so, anyway?) 

Or having the (heterosexual-ising) female character literally put into the male character’s canon place, using his gay-inspiring scenes, with any other ship. 

I’ve never heard of an actor’s brilliant performance, which made certain lines iconic; whose skill as an actor is the very reason they’re iconic...  simply being taken away from him and credited to an untalented actress who never said them. 

Just to damage an un-canon gay ship?! 

Imagine they brought out new Trek shows with Kirk and Spock and said ‘anyway, Spock never meant anything to Kirk, every Spirk thing he said was actually said to/about his new wife Spacky (Woman who joined the Hating-Vulcans Society and hired guys to torture Spock) and here’s a flashback to Spacky as Kirk’s Chief Science Officer all those years. Also we will be buying up other media and editing all tie-ins to reflect that they are nOT GAY.’ 

It’s unprecedentedly monstrous.

#fuck disney #mcu critical #antipeggy #antisteggy #homophobia #stucky #mcu meta #meta #steggy is hydra trash party #steve meta #bucky meta #stucky meta #steve rogers #bucky barnes #also I genuinely didn't know I was posting this next to a spirk post #some poor shipper's about to come into the tags telling me 'they did that to my ship!' #I have never heard of a gay ship getting shivved in the specific way stucky has #maybe I've been lucky 🤔 #I BET I know what they're going to do for WhatIf season 2 #I BET YOU they're going to say BUCKY co-founded SHIELD and let the Nazis in #If they're already trying to claim Piggy did all the good things Bucky did... #I BET YOU they're gunna start claiming HE did all the bad things SHE did #they're SO threatened by this ship and SO LAZY and SO CREATIVELY BANKRUPT #and steggy is such a WEAK ASS piece of writing... #look at how they treat ie. loki and thor by comparison #they JUST kill one off #they DON'T go back through all of thor's history to make sure to undo every single thor/loki moment that ever happened and put some heifer i #they didn't go back through TONY's history to make sure it was ALWAYS PEPPER who ever said anything to him ever #they JUST do this to stucky #cynthia glass

[t-r99]

His Light

*

Honestly, how dare they give us this beautiful bastard only to make him the ultimate manwhore?

LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL BITCH

Okay anyways, Aiku fluff because☺️

Oliver Aiku x fem reader

wc 554

Mr Oliver "His ideal type is someone who doesn't look like they'd be a hassle when breaking up" Aiku is the type to invite two women on the same date in hopes of all three of them enjoying each other's company, the type whose favourite season of the year is summer so he can "see swimsuits" (okay Aiku🙄), but then he meets you.

Sweet little you who has him speechless and stuttering nervously for the first time in his life. He feels all warm and fuzzy, head going blank whenever he tries to use one of his standard pickup lines.

He's used to girls blushing and batting their lashes at him, sometimes crossing their hands behind their backs so they can pull their shoulders back and push their tits out. On the other hand, some girls like to play hard to get instead.

None of it ever matters, though. He always gets what he wants because he's Oliver Aiku, the Captain of Japan's U20 team. He has it all, looks, charm, charisma. A master of getting girls to swoon over him.

You, however, are nothing like all those other girls.

You giggled when he stammered nervously with his cheeks going pink, but not mockingly. You thought he was cute. Your laughter is soft and genuine whereas every other girl he has ever talked to has faked most of it in the hopes of getting him to give her more attention.

Oliver finally gives up on trying to pick you up and simply looks down with a pout on his handsome face that is now bright pink, hands shoved in his pockets and almost glaring down at the ground and angry at himself for turning into a little pussy.

You tell him he's cute when he blushes, and that takes him by surprise. No one has ever called Oliver cute before, and no one's ever smiled at him the way you are right now with those pretty eyes that he could get lost in forever. His face still feels hot, his ears are still warm, but he stills when he meets your eyes again.

Oliver feels like he's standing in a sea of darkness with only a single source of light.

You are the light.

His light.

You are warm like the sun.

Is this what it feels like to fall in love? Oliver wonders. Is he falling for you?

He realizes that he's staring, but finds it impossible to look away. How could he ever turn away from you now?

You laugh softly when his blush deepens and walk up to him. Oliver nearly dies on the spot when your hands, soft and delicate, end up on his arm. His hands are still in his pockets but you hold his forearm and smile up at him.

Oliver gets worried that his palms are sweaty so he keeps them tucked away. You don't mind, at least he hopes, and simply squeeze his forearm instead. "You're just a big softie, aren't you?" You have the voice of an angel, Aiku thinks. How can it be possible for a human to have such a soothing and dreamlike voice?

Your words have him pouting again. "'m not." He mumbles.

Of course he is. Oliver is only soft for you.

After all, you are the light of his life.

#blue lock #bllk #oliver aiku #blue lock oliver aiku #oliver aiku fluff #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you

[vashtijoy]

whose phone is that, anyway? character signature colours and yoshizawa's phone

There is a perennial debate over what's going on with Yoshizawa's phone. Isn't it Kasumi's phone that she's dragging around for reasons? What's even wrong with it, and why?

I have no opinion on the last two questions (other than that her difficulty communicating likely symbolises the things she's hiding from herself and others.) But I do think we can put that first question, of ownership, to bed.

First let's take a quick look at...

character colour coding

Most playable characters in P5 are assigned a colour, which is used more-or-less consistently for various things. For instance, their chat icons use them:

Their gloves use them. Makoto is the exception here with white gloves (perhaps because she uses fist weapons, so her gloves are always hidden?):

More to the point? Their phones are all colour coded:

Clockwise from the top: Ryuji (gold), Ann (hot pink), Yusuke (pale blue), Haru (purple), Futaba (green) and Makoto (dark blue).

royal trio: joker

The Royal Trio throw this nice little arrangement for an absolute loop.

First off, let's take a look at Joker. Silver phone (you may have observed it). No chat icon that we ever see to my knowledge, though it seems highly unlikely that he wouldn't have a red one. And indeed, his gloves are red. (as you may also have observed)

royal trio: akechi

Our resident Gemini, of course, stomps in with his steel-capped kicker boots and does everything twice. He's got two pairs of gloves, which match his apparent alignment (white or black, with his "day gloves" being black):

And his phone? Well, it's red (though the anime has it as dark grey, because, again, never not extra). Because, to this day, he's still playing hero—with the emphasis by now very much on "playing"—and part of him still wants to be the hero....

So Joker and Akechi have a reverse colour scheme going on with their phones: Joker has the silver/white/colourless phone that you might expect Akechi to have, and Akechi has the red one you'd expect Joker to have. Or rather, Joker has the "bad guy" phone while Akechi has the "good guy" phone, because he's a fucking liar and because each of them, to a greater or lesser extent, is walking that line between hero and villain.

As for his chat icon, it was grey in vanilla [source], while in Royal it was changed to brown. So: two sets of gloves, two chat icons, two phones (if we count the anime). Complicated.

what about yoshizawa?

Just like Joker and Akechi, Yoshizawa is too cool to be bound by any stupid dress code... pretty much. Her outfit is essentially girl Joker, and so her gloves are red, like his. Her chat icon is a deep purply-pink—more hot pink than Ann's, in fact, whose colour hot pink is!

It's possible her icon is meant to be red, but it's been shifted to purply-pink because a red icon on a red background would look bad.

But there are a couple of other things we can look at. And they tell us it's incredibly likely that the malfunctioning phone Yoshizawa carries through the game is not Kasumi's, but her own.

Remember that Yoshizawa's codename, Violet, is taken from her true given name Sumire—which means "violet". In Maruki's Palace, there's a cinematic of her with the real Kasumi during their accident, where both girls have umbrellas. Kasumi's is yellow—but Sumire's?

It's violet. And what colour is Yoshizawa's phone, when she pulls it out on 10/3, still believing that she's Kasumi?

It's violet. Violet for her true name, violet for her codename. Violet like the umbrella she carried when Kasumi died. This is clearly Sumire's phone, not Kasumi's.

Why is it broken? Still damaged in the accident, maybe?—Sumire is knocked flying. Unconsciously sabotaged? Space pixies? Who knows.

#persona 5 #p5 meta #sumire yoshizawa #the squad

[wynought]

since i haven't seen it being pointed out before

all of the first stoats' names essentially mean "light"

kiran is of sanskrit origin meaning "ray of light" (and, according to wikipedia, an explicitly unisex name), uri is a hebrew name meaning "my light", hester is a variant of the name esther (of biblical/jewish origin) which comes from the same old persian root as the word "star", and, while i didn't find any particularly reliable source, various babyname websites at least seem to agree that jomei is a japanese name meaning "spread light"

additionally, their names seem to correlate with their purpose/position in last bast:

jomei is the speaker, they are in charge of propaganda - quite literally spreading the belief system and worldview of the first stoats aka the Light. it feels like this name is extremely straightforward in its meaning, but i was also unable to find much else on it, so there may be some additional hidden truth that i'm missing so far.

hester is the silence (the one with the gas mask missing their lower jaw and tongue) and their sphere of influence is secrets. now, i'm no religious scholar, and i have all of my information from quite literally the introductory paragraphs of the wikipedia article on the name esther. however, it seems that queen esther only took this name after ascending to the throne of persia to hide her true identity. this is reflected in the hebrew root of the name esther translating into "hide"/"conceal". (i am unable to provide more info on this, but anybody with a working understanding of how hebrew works and/or with more insight on the book of esther, feel free to interject/correct/add on to this)

uri is our beloved stoat pope. apparently, the name uri comes from the verb for "to shine" (to either be or to give light) and the mark of possession, resulting in the first connotation i mentioned earlier - "my light". this possessive marker, however, can also be interpreted as the name Yah which would be an abbreviation of YHWH - a marker of the divine, if you will. Therefore, Uri can also mean "Yah is my light", a very fitting name for the stoat whose department we only see called "faith".

i was unable to find a deeper meaning behind kiran's name, although to me "beam of light" feels very much like a name befitting the first stoats' leader. considering the way they commanded the wolf of theseus, it also seems to reflect the way their magic/their brand of control worked (their line of sight was part of how they controlled the wolf, indicating that was a key part of either their magic or the conditioning inflicted on the wolf - i'm partial towards the latter, considering how the wolf reacted to tula after she healed it). if anybody has anything more concrete to offer, though, i am all ears!

anyways, the first stoats' names are really cool, and we as a fandom don't talk enough about them because they died so fast. huge props to aabria for this fun bit of world building!

(disclaimer: as mentioned above, i have no background in theology or judaism, nor do i have any deeper knowledge of sanskrit, hindi, and indian mythology/folklore, nor japanese, and japanese mythology which would give me a deeper understanding of these names. my information comes from google and while i did try my best to verify the claims, i am fallible and happen to currently be very tired, so please correct me, if i made any mistakes!)

#burrow's end #d20 #burrow's end spoilers #d20 spoilers #f: d20 #f: burrow's end #c: kiran (be) #c: stoat pope uri (be) #c: the silence hester (be) #c: the speaker jomei (be)

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

Bamboo for a Bashful Captain - (Gepard x Reader) - FULL POST

Summary: You’ve recently moved from Belobog’s Underworld and gotten a job as a florist. One day, a man wearing a full suit of armor stops by, and you, (fearing for the safety of the flowerpots) decide to approach him.

You never suspected that he would fall head-over-heels so quickly. Or so hard.

▸ Genre(s): Fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 15k in total

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: Food mention, possible ooc, reader is shorter than Gepard and slightly fem coded, explicit pronouns aren’t used but Serval calls you a doll,

A/N: This has been in the works for a month. It was actually going to be released earlier, but I had to take a three day break because I was about to give myself carpal tunnel— also, the beginning is choppy but bear with me!

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is available in shorter chapters for those of you whose devices keep crashing (like me). They will be posted every Saturday at 12:00 PST. Use the link post below!

I also have a few additional one-shots, so stay tuned!

I’m so sorry to be rambling but I want to provide the best experience possible.

MASTERLIST (MORE GEPARD HERE)

The Belobog sunlight was warm on the captain of the Silvermane Guards’ face. Gepard was covered in what could only be described as a mountain of blankets, hastily tossed over his sleeping form after returning from an extended mission on the front lines. 

The Fragmentum had never taken a break until recently, when the source of the corrosion was discovered and disposed of. There was still work to be done, of course, but Gepard’s workload had been significantly reduced. This left him feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion due to his regular routine being interrupted. 

Hearing some commotion from the hallway of the Landau Estate, Gepard stirred and sat up, a weary expression on his face. He raised a hand to rub his eyes but was unpleasantly surprised by stiff metal coming into contact with his cheek. 

He looked in the full-length mirror, realizing he had forgotten to take most of his armor off before going to bed, as unflattering red indentations remained on his face and neck from metal pressing into his skin. 

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he bent down to put on his home-appropriate loafers. It honestly felt like eons had passed since the Captain had woken up in his own home. He smiled to himself. How he had missed the smell of old books, wood, and leather. 

Gepard suddenly stood up with newfound energy to start the day, but the back of his head collided with the wooden shelf next to his bed. He doubled over, grunted in pain, and gingerly ran a hand through his blond hair.

That’s gonna leave a mark, he groaned inwardly. He looked back up at the shelf to see the flowerpot he began taking care of several weeks ago teetering on the edge. Too groggy to react, he watched it tip over and fall onto the hardwood floor, letting out a loud crash. Ceramic shards and dirt went everywhere. 

Gepard gave it an exasperated stare.

It was long dead anyways, He sighed. I forgot to ask Pela to take care of it again,

Rapid knocking could be heard at his door, and a housekeeper barged in. He was breathing as if he had leapt up the stairs four-at-a-time. 

“Young Master Gepard, is everything all right? I heard a crash,” he said, clutching his duster nervously.

The Captain looked at the broken pot on the floor wistfully.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said monotonously. “What’s for breakfast?”

———

Gepard had long gotten used to heads turning as he walked through the streets of Belobog. 

He didn’t necessarily mind it, though. Someone of his position would be bound to catch a few glances. If it meant he could keep protecting the city, then so be it. Being able to hear the carefree chatter of citizens made his chest swell with pride. Parents and grandparents alike would wave to him, and of course he would wave back. (Although Serval would always chide him for not smiling enough.)

While on his way to buy a new flowerpot, Gepard spotted an elderly woman carrying a bag of groceries. She turned around to face him quickly, startled by the sound of heavy boots clanking behind her. 

“Can I give you a hand with that, ma’am?” He inquired, offering his hands out to take it from her. 

“Oh, you’re too kind. Thank you so, so much,” she smiled up at him. The woman carefully gave him the paper bag that was filled with miscellaneous vegetables. 

“All in a day’s work,” Gepard replied. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and walked her to the entrance of a building, all the while a leek poked him in the face. 

“I’m so glad we have you as the Captain of the Silvermane Guards,” she said sweetly as she unlocked the door to her home. “Such a handsome and nice fellow,” 

Gepard shook his head humbly, trying to squash the dusting of pink that spread across his face. “Please, you flatter me too much,” 

The woman raised an eyebrow at him behind her wire-framed glasses, humming in response. 

“Well, I’m sure one day…” she mused. “You’ll meet someone who thinks so too,” He kept his face blank, neither agreeing or disagreeing with her. 

“On your way now, miss. Be careful.” Gepard gave her a polite wave goodbye as she entered the building, and continued on his way.

———

You knew people on the surface could be weird, but not this weird. 

You were just about to join your co-worker, Vaska, on break when you heard the shopkeeper’s bell ring. A man with blonde hair stepped through the entrance, practically armed to the teeth. He wore a spotless soldier’s coat decorated with blue and gold accents, along with an unusual looking metal gauntlet on his right arm. He took care not to bump anything on the way in.

It would be a disaster if he did. 

What’s a soldier doing in a flower shop? You pondered as you fidgeted with your pen absentmindedly. Natasha would’ve strangled someone with that much metal on if she caught them in her clinic,

He walked over to the corner and began browsing the selection of ceramic pots you had to offer. The other customers seemed to acknowledge him and respectfully step aside so he could make his way around easier. 

You realized you were staring a hole into the back of his head and tore your gaze away from him, embarrassed. 

He looks confused, you thought. Maybe he’s buying a gift for someone? I guess I could give him some advice.

You ventured out from behind the desk and approached him, right as he picked up a pot with his heavily armored hand.

Please don’t crush it, so help me Qlipoth!! The voice inside your head shrieked. You clutched at your notepad so hard you thought it might rip in half. It’ll be on MY payroll!!

“Hi there! Can I help you?” You interjected, with the friendliest smile you could muster. The man swiveled his head towards you in surprise. His eyes were startlingly blue. 

“Oh… Yes, I could use some help,” he said. “I’ve been trying my hand at growing flowers for a while now, but it never really seems to work out,” He sighed. “Would you happen to have any advice?”

Your expression became one of pity. Oh! This poor soul! You lamented. Of course you’d help him chase his flower-growing dreams!

“Well, you could start by taking off the gauntlet when you garden,” you teased. “Flowers can get scared easily,”

“Are you serious?” He glanced worriedly at the hand that held the pot. 

For a follower of the Preservation, I can't seem to keep anything alive, he thought.

“No! No, no, of course not! I’m sorry.” You shook your hands as if to clear up the misunderstanding while holding back a giggle. He seemed sweet. 

He let out a relieved sigh. 

“It’s just that you don't see a man covered head to toe in metal come into the store every day. I’m sorry for teasing you about it.” You grinned at him and he cleared his throat sheepishly. “Anyways, what have you been trying to grow?” 

“Well, I had a pot of Solarflowers but I’ve been rather occupied as of late. I’ve had people take care of my plants before, but I would like something that I can handle by myself,” he replied. You hummed.

“If you don’t have too much free time, caring for something routinely may be difficult,” you rattled off. “I admire your perseverance though! Flowers just take a lot of nurturing.” You rested your chin on your hand deliberately.

“Wait a minute… I have just the thing for you! Be right back!” 

You darted into the back room, quick to push apart the piles of boxes filled with flowers. 

Aha! There it is! You almost jumped for joy as you spotted a small plant in a burlap sack. You practically ran back out while holding it up for him to see. 

“Is that… a tree?”

He stared down at it with a peculiar expression. The small, woody plant with only three leaves to call its own said nothing. 

“Nope! It’s a Summershade Bamboo,” you responded cheerily. “I know flowers are your main goal, but you should give this one a try!” He took it from you and examined it, tilting it every which way with his eyebrows furrowed.

“These are tougher than flowers. As long as it has water, it’ll be fine,” you were quick to add. 

“That sounds promising,” he nodded down at you. “I think I’ll buy it,” 

You two made your way to the counter, imaginary confetti poppers going off in your head triumphantly. 

My first real recommendation! You had to physically stop yourself from pumping your fists into the air as you walked behind the counter.

He set down the plant, you fastened a string around it to keep the sack from falling off, and then whipped out your notepad from the front pouch in your uniform. 

“How exactly did you become so good with flowers, anyways?” The man asked, tilting his head. You barked out a laugh while scribbling something down on the paper, remembering just how lucky you were to get this job.

“Oh, believe me, I have killed my fair share of flowers.” You nodded towards the door to the back room, where your co-workers were lounging and drinking the latest tea. “We all have. It’s something that comes with a LOT of trial and error— in fact, a couple months ago I had never even seen one!” 

“Is that so?” He was taken aback. 

“Yep! I’d just moved here from the Underworld, and was fresh out of a job,” you reminisced. “ I had been looking for weeks on end, finally I stumbled across this place! It was so beautiful, I just HAD to apply,” 

You glanced around quickly and leaned in to whisper, “The owner is sort of strict, but she offered me a place to stay. I couldn’t be more grateful,” 

“Is that so? Well then, Belobog is happy to have you,” he said, offering out his right hand for you to shake. “I’m Gepard. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” 

Realizing he had his gauntlet on, he began to retract his hand. You stopped him, almost tipping over the desk to shake it heartily. 

“And I’m (Y/N). No need to be so stiff, it’s a pleasure to meet you too!” A bright smile spread across your cheeks. Gepard felt his breath catch in his throat, much to his surprise.

“Your total comes to 15 Shield,” you said, handing him a yellow square of paper along with the bamboo. “I wrote a list of tips on how to take care of it too! This one will survive. I'm sure of it,”

You beamed at him. “Come back anytime if you need any more advice!” 

Gepard felt the corners of his mouth rise into a smile. 

“I’m sure I will,” 

———

As the Captain was watering his bamboo plant that night, the moons of Jarilo-VI caught his attention through the window. They were shining brightly tonight. His mind wandered back to just how bright your smile was.

Gepard shook himself out of his thoughts, ignoring his heart beating faster than usual, and placed the newly potted bamboo on his bookshelf.

So it couldn’t be knocked over by a clumsy captain like himself, of course.

He sighed. The Captain opened an old, tattered book for a while before turning off the lamp and tucking into the covers for the night. 

———

A few days later, you were pleased to see that your new guard friend decided to show up again. 

He sure took his sweet while staring at the flowers this time. You couldn't blame him for his indecisiveness though, because choosing something as special as flowers could be a challenge.

Gepard eventually gave up and walked over to the counter. You gave him a friendly wave.

“Hey there again! How’s the new plant doing?” You inquired, shifting your weight onto your toes with a happy grin.

“Fairly well, surprisingly. I'm very happy with it,” he said with a relaxed expression.

“I’m glad! That’s the first time I've ever recommended somethin’ to someone!” You exclaimed. He blinked in surprise. 

“So, what are you in here for this time?” You asked.

“I'd like to buy some flowers for my older sister. She could use something to liven up her workshop. I'm not sure which ones to get for her though.” He paused, looking off to the side at the plants hanging by the windows. 

“Aww, that’s really sweet! What’s her favorite color?” You said.

“Purple,” he replied.

You glanced at the rows of purple flowers on the shelves and bit your lip. “Um, well, What's she like?” 

“She’s definitely something,” Gepard murmured to himself. “Between running the workshop and her rock gigs, she practically has an infinite amount of energy.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Rock gigs?” You questioned. “What’s that?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Rock is a genre of music she’s fascinated by. She does concerts sometimes… Although she’s somehow coerced one of my co-workers into performing with her,”

“No way… She’s a musician AND she runs a workshop? She sounds incredible!” Your eyes went wide with awe. 

Gepard stifled a chuckle.

“She can be, sometimes,” He sighed, tapping the desk with an armored finger. “If we ignore the numerous crazy things she’s done in the past,” 

“Sisters, am I right?” You chirped. “Anyways, what about you? What’s being a guard like?” 

“I suppose—,” 

He cut off as your boss shoved past you with some large boxes in hand, almost tipping you onto the desk, but your fall was stopped by his hands, which caught your shoulders and helped steady you. 

“Sorry about that! (Y/N),” she called, not bothering to look back as she rushed into the storeroom. “A new shipment came in today. We could use your help sorting it out if you could hurry it up a bit!” 

“Oops,” You turned back to him. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” you said sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind small talk,” Gepard responded, fiddling with one of the clasps on his uniform.

“Really? Phew.” You wiped fake sweat from your brow. “Anyways, I think she would enjoy a pot of Indigos.” You pointed to a flowerpot on the leftmost side of the shop. “They’re a nice bold color, and pretty hardy too!”

You swore Gepard’s eyes lit up as he picked up the pot of purple flowers. 

“These are perfect. Your recommendations truly are the best,” Gepard said when he returned to the counter. You thought you heard a bit more warmth beginning to creepinto his voice.

You smiled at him, and for a split second, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. And with that, you checked him out and handed him a blank thank-you card to write on, bowing politely.

“Thank you, come again!” You called, and squeaked in surprise as you were promptly yanked by the collar into the storage room. Gepard could only blink in confusion as he watched you disappear into the back. 

———

A few weeks passed, and Gepard had become a regular at the flower shop. You started to look forward to when he came in so you could chat about how his new bamboo plant was faring. 

I wonder if he has a name for it, you mused to yourself. Probably not,

It was kind of unusual how much he stopped by, though. 

You were in the middle of putting a case full of seed packets on the shelf when you heard the door creak open, nothing out of the ordinary.

“Be right there!” You shouted. You peeked your head out from behind the door frame, only to spot Gepard’s familiar blond hair once more. He was looking very intently at a dresser filled with a variety of multicolored plants. The soldier caught your gaze, but quickly broke eye contact with you, much to your confusion.

“Isn’t this the third time he’s come in this week?” You whispered to your boss, Meg, who was writing labels for the different jars on the shelves. She shrugged.

Meg put her hands on her hips. “I've got no problem with it. It’s good for business, after all. He always seems to be looking for something or someone in particular… He gets awfully sad when you aren't there, y’know,” 

You squinted at her, confused, and then shook your head in disbelief. You headed back to the counter where Gepard was waiting with a small sack in his hands. 

“Good afternoon, Gepard. What can I do for ya this time?” You stared at his face harder than normal, analyzing his expression. It didn't change much.

“Just the usual, please.” He placed the bag of plant fertilizer on the desk while he dug in his pockets for the change. He was dead serious, like usual.

Ugh. Why was he so impossible to read?? 

“You do know we sell these in larger sizes, right?” You questioned while pointing at the bag. Gepard nodded, shuffling his feet a little. 

“Yes, I am aware, but I have a very inquisitive little sister. I'm afraid one of her pets might get into it while I'm not there and get sick,” he answered. “It's easier if there's less of it for them to get into,” 

Gepard ran his gloved hand through his hair while you stood nodding thoughtfully.

“Ohhh, I see!” You let out a gasp of realization. “Phew! I was worried you were coming in here just to see me!” 

“No, of… course not,” he said, mouth agape. The soldier closed his eyes in embarrassment as he felt his face heat up. “Although, seeing you does improve my day greatly,” 

Your face morphed into a scowl, much to his surprise. “You oughta be spending your time better, you know. Guard duty sounds very demanding.” You folded your arms with a huff. “You know, delivery IS an option if you want to save some effort,”

“O-oh? Could you elucidate to me how it works?” He stuttered, expression changing to one of nervous curiosity. 

“Yeah! Delivery works with almost anything. We understand how hard it is to drag an entire plant or package to your residence,”

You shook your finger matter-of-factly as you went off on your sales pitch. “You can place an order in-store and we can bring it to you, even on the same day you place it!” 

“AND, we can do regularly scheduled deliveries, that way, you don't have to come in every two days. Instead, one of our very capable workers will get it to you!” 

He merely stared at you quizzically. You huffed. 

“Believe me, we’re stronger than we look.” You raised your arm, curling it into a fist. “I used to work in the mines, so I'm used to heavy lifting,” you said, putting your hands back on your hips proudly. 

Gepard exhaled through his nose. He knew you weren’t going to let this one go.

“So… Would you be interested? I’d hate for you to have to go on a wild Mole chase every time you want to buy fertilizer,” you said slyly. 

“Well—” He raised his hand to protest. “It’s really not an issue—,”

“Nonsense! I'm sure your schedule is super busy, so let me help you out!” You slid a purple notecard and a pen with a floral print across the counter to him. 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” The guard sighed in defeat.

Gepard waited until he got a safe distance away from the shop, and facepalmed with a weak groan. As he drew his hand away, a new look of determination flickered across his face. 

He was going to need new excuses to keep seeing you. 

———

Is this really the place?? You thought, boxes in hand. The sun was setting on the fancy buildings in the modern district of the city, painting them a brilliant orange. You adjusted your beret, determined not to let it fall off, and prepared yourself to venture up the stairs to the massive mansion located on the uppermost level of the city. 

When you reached the entrance at the top, you realized that the unfamiliar building made the shop you called home seem almost microscopic. Two guards were standing at the sides of the heavy-looking wooden door, complete with ornately carved bronze handles. 

The doors opened, and out walked a group of housekeepers. You gave them a feeble wave hello and trotted over to them.

“Hi there! I have a delivery for the—,” You narrowed your eyes at the card on top of the boxes—, “Landau Estate?” 

You hoped you didn’t just butcher the name. One of the guards and a maid sauntered over to you. 

“That’s unusual,” the maid said, taking the card and inspecting it closely. “We weren't expecting a package. This is for fertilizer, you say?” You nodded in agreement. 

“Do you know if anyone here ordered fertilizer?” She turned back to the group of servants, who all murmured among themselves. “Hmm… doesn’t look like it,”

“Oh jeez. I'm sorry, a man named Gepard ordered it. Maybe he put down the wrong address by mistake?” You shrugged. 

Who on Jarilo-VI would live in a house this big, anyways? You wondered. 

“Oh! The young master!” A lightbulb seemed to go off in her head. “I wasn't aware he had ordered something. I'm sorry, but we aren't allowed to accept packages on his behalf unless he clears it with us first.” She clasped her hands together. “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” 

You shook your head reassuringly. “That’s all right, I can just find him myself. Does anyone know where he might be?” 

That earned you a few quizzical looks. One of the aides, a woman with chestnut hair, piped up. 

“I heard he was heading to Serval’s workshop today. Maybe if you're lucky, you could catch him on his way out!” 

“Great! Thanks!” 

You adjusted the boxes under your arm once again and flew down the stairs two at a time. 

They called him “Young Master”? You furrowed your brow.

This was getting weirder and weirder.

———

Rapidly flipping through your map of Belobog, you pinpointed an eccentric looking building on the easternmost side of the plaza. When you reached the workshop indicated on your map, you stood still in amazement.

It was covered in the coolest metal fixtures and gave off a mature aura you couldn’t quite put your finger on. If something like this had existed in the Underworld, you wouldn't have been able to see it in full detail anyways.

Not right now! I have a delivery to make! You snapped at yourself. You pried the door open with your hand and used the weight of your back to push your way inside. 

The inside of the building was just as interesting as the outside. Metal cogs spun with no aim in particular, more tools than you had ever seen in your lifetime adorned the walls, and old manuscripts were sprawled out all over the various surfaces. You wanted to explore it all already.

You spotted Gepard talking to a boldly dressed woman at the front desk. Another blue-haired woman was working on a blueprint off to the side, too absorbed in her work to notice the commotion at the door. 

“Aha! There you are!” You exclaimed. “I've got your delivery for this week. Some housekeepers told me I could find you here.” You bounded up to him with the boxes curled under your arm, smiling as he thanked you. 

“I apologize you had to go through all that trouble to find me.” He rubbed his temples. “I should have cleared the whole thing with them first. Here, let me take that for you,” 

The tall woman stepped out from behind the counter, looking you up and down with great interest. She had stunning lip gloss and blond hair with a lone blue streak on her right side. You wondered where she got her style from, as everyone on the surface dressed the same, for the most part.

“And who might you be?” She inquired. 

“I’m (Y/N), from the flower shop across the street.” You curtsied with a smile.

“What a cute little doll!” The woman tilted her head at you, her eyes sparkling with adoration. “Gepard, where on Jarilo-VI did you find them? I know everyone’s face, and I've never seen theirs,” 

You saw Gepard shift from side to side in the corner of your eye. 

“I started working there just a few weeks ago, actually! I’m from the Underworld,” you chirped. 

“No way! Well then, it’s a pleasure to be meeting you!” She offered her hand for you to shake, which you took graciously. She was so easygoing, it was easy to be drawn to her. 

“I'm Serval, this clumsy oaf’s sister.” She wrapped her arm around Gepard and poked him in the side. “The one over there is Molly, my assistant!” She pointed at the worker with blue hair in the corner, who gave you a quick thumbs-up. “It seems you know my brother?”

“Well—,” you started. 

“We don't need to go into detail now, I'm sure you have places to be,” Gepard interrupted, placing a hand on your shoulder. He hoped you couldn’t feel his palms sweating.

“No, no, no!” Serval pouted, “I'm invested now, can't you see?” She said, circling around you like a carnivore would. 

“Um. It’s fine, actually! That was the last of the deliveries scheduled for today,” you chimed in.

“Perfect! Molly, could you get our guest some tea?” Serval called. She led you to a small table with an oil lamp resting on it, pulling out your chair before she sat in her own. She rested her arm on the tabletop while leaning forward with a thrilled expression. 

Gepard stayed where he was, rubbing his forehead. The poor man’s cheeks were bright red. 

“So! How are you liking the city so far?” Molly set down two cups of steaming hot tea. You thanked her, then took a sip as you paused to think. It was fragrant and had just the right amount of sweetness.

“It’s honestly gorgeous. The air up here is so clean compared to the mines!” You replied energetically. 

“My thoughts exactly!” The woman across from you nodded. “There’s nothing like the cold Belobog air to wake you up in the mornings too. Have you visited the Everwinter Monument yet?” 

You took in a sharp breath. “No, I haven’t! Not for real, at least. I see it through the window of my apartment sometimes. Since I live and work in the same building, I haven’t really felt the need to explore the city yet,” you murmured. “Although, I'm being put on delivery more often, so I guess there’s that,” 

You gazed around the room curiously, taking another sip of your tea. 

“I've never been in a workshop this fancy before. What kind of work do you do here?” You asked.

“Well, we do a lot of mechanical repairs and research. Although, my brother might have mentioned that we hold Rock gigs here sometimes,” she responded. 

Said brother was looking at the delivery card with incredible concentration. 

I still don't know what a gig is, you sighed inwardly. 

“That's incredible! What instrument do you play?” You said, voice dripping with enthusiasm to make up for the confusion.

“Electric guitar,” Serval said. “I can go grab it for you if you'd like to see it,”

“Would I EVER???” You practically bounced out of your seat. She got up from the table and opened the door to a side room, snapping her fingers and humming to herself. 

Noticing a pot of purple flowers, your rose from your seat to inspect them. They were healthy and had enough sunlight. You gave a happy bounce of approval, then sauntered over to Gepard, who was still standing stiffly. 

“So that’s the sister you told me about, huh?” You smiled cheerfully. 

“Indeed. That’s her,” Gepard nodded in agreement. 

“I can't believe you have a MUSICIAN for a sister. She's so energetic!”

“I guess the only thing we have in common are our looks,” he mused. His eyes locked onto yours and you giggled.

“Pfft. You got that right,” 

“Miss Serval really is the epitome of exciting!” Molly called from her desk. You pumped a fist in silent agreement. 

“I guess you could say that. Although she can be a little overbearing sometimes.” Gepard sighed and looked off into the distance. “I'm really sorry to be dragging you out here on a work night,” 

“It’s okay, really. I could use a bit more excitement. My life doesn't need to revolve around the flower shop, after all,” you reassured him. 

———

When Serval came out of the side room with her guitar, everything clicked into place. 

No wonder her adorable little brother was being so sheepish! (Albeit, only a little more than usual.)

It’s because he was feeling shy, Serval deduced. Every time you looked him in the eyes, he looked away and his ears turned pink. She almost cooed out loud, giving him a pitying glance. This was TOO CUTE. 

A raucous grin spread across her face, which she quickly squashed before deciding her next move.

You turned to face the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor. 

“And here—,” she announced with a grand gesture—, “Is my magnum opus!” She laid her guitar on the table proudly.

You could not, for the life of you, see how the machine in front of you resembled a guitar in any way. It was large and avant garde, with a long black handle and tubes sticking off the side of the body.

It was still the coolest thing you had ever seen, though. 

“Wow. wow wow wow WOW!!” You gasped in amazement. “Can I-- can I touch it?!”

“Go ahead! Who am I to stop someone from admiring fine craftsmanship?” Serval chuckled lightly. You inspected the guitar with so much excitement, she could have sworn your head was about to explode.

“Anyhow, I need to check something in the back just for a quiiick second,” she said offhandedly, fishing through her pockets and pulling out a key made of brass. “C’mon Molly!”

Serval yanked the startled girl by the hand unceremoniously causing her pen to drop on the floor. She turned backwards for a split second and gave Gepard a wink.

Gepard gulped. He’s seen that look before. 

His rebellious sister was DEFINITELY planning something. 

When she returned, the smile on her face was even brighter. Blinding, even. Molly was nowhere to be seen.

“The mechanics are really well done!” You said excitedly. “I've never seen anything like it. Repairing minecarts and robots wasn’t anywhere near this level of intricacy,”

“Whoa! You really know what you're talking about, new friend! You know, if you're ever interested in working with us, we could always use an extra pair of hands in the workshop,” 

“I would LOVE that,” you replied. “I’ll have to adjust my work schedule first, though. I took on a few too many hours this week and tomorrow is my only free day. I was planning on using it to see the city,”

“It's no sweat! Come in anytime it strikes your fancy. Actually, the workshop happens to be closed that day too, would you be up to touring the city together?” 

You nodded vigorously. 

Serval grinned and clasped your hands with her own. You exchanged contacts, while Gepard pulled her aside to whisper something in her ear. She then promptly elbowed him in the gut, causing him to grunt in pain, Then out of the blue, your phone started dinging incessantly.

“Um, I don't think that's ME doing that—,” Serval said nervously. You furrowed your eyebrows, raising the screen closer to your face to get a better look. 

It was Vaska. They must have wanted you to come back to help close up shop. The sky outside had shifted from an orange to a deep blue, dotted sparsely with stars. You sighed and accepted the fact that you had to return to your ordinary flower-filled life.

Your disappointment was abruptly interrupted by a huge crash coming from the back room. Your phone almost flew into the air as everyone scrambled to check for the source of the noise. 

There Molly stood, covered head to toe in soot, coughing up a storm, with bits of machinery scattered everywhere. A few stray pieces rolled off the table the machine was sitting on. 

You made sure to watch your step as you clung to the walls to keep your balance.

“Oh, by Qlipoth,” Serval covered her face with her hand, closing her eyes. “I forgot we had an experiment running! Molly, are you all right?” She bent down, picking up some stray papers and rushed over to the girl. Serval dusted her assistant off worriedly.

You began to reach for some of the stray parts scattered on the floor, but Gepard held out a hand to stop you. 

“That's not a good idea. It's hard to see sharp edges with everything covered in soot right now. Let me take care of it,”

You blinked at him in surprise. 

“Well then, I guess it's a good thing I carry these around with me then!” You pulled out a pair of thick gloves from your apron triumphantly, and proceeded to carry on picking up the shrapnel. When Molly had been sufficiently cleaned up, Serval groaned. 

“The Department of Education wants these results in three days,” she spoke. “It'll take me all night to get this baby up and running again— I'm sorry, but I can't make it to our little outing tomorrow,”

You shook your head frantically. “I'm so sorry this happened!” You sighed. “If I hadn't distracted you—,”

“That's not it at all!” Serval interjected. “I can be a little scatterbrained sometimes. This kind of stuff happens all the time.” She gave a small laugh. “Geppie can attest to that,” 

He blanched, almost dropping an armful of tubes.

“I'm really, really sorry.” She bowed her head. “Gepard, could you take them instead? Please? I know you have this week off.” She placed her hands together in a praying motion and closed her eyes. He let out a small sound of surprise.

“It’s… not an issue,”

Serval’s eyes flew back open.

“Great! I’ll leave you two to it then!” Her old enthusiasm was back in the blink of an eye and she resumed sweeping up the room. Gepard led you back to the main entrance.

“Okay, I know I said I could use some excitement, but not THAT much excitement,” you said quietly.

“I suppose that makes two of us,” he replied. 

“Do things really blow up around here that often?”

“They sure do. She says it's all part of the process,” he spoke. “I hope that doesn't scare you too much,” 

“Not at all, actually. I've seen my fair share of explosions,” You chuckled. 

“That's a relief,”

Your phone rang again, and this time you answered it. You put it to your ear only to be deafened by Vaska’s screaming.

“The heck is taking you so long???” She barked. You could hear the clamor of your co-workers in the background.

“Gahh! Sorry, sorry! I’ll be right over,” you said hurriedly. 

“You better be,” she huffed impatiently. You hung up with a groan. As much as you hated it, she was right. Your duties for the night were far from over. 

“Oh! That reminds me,” you piped up. “Gepard, did I get your number? Wait… do you have a phone?”

“That would be a no and a yes.” He ran a hand across his hip, only to realize he didn't have it with him.

“That's fine.” You grabbed a marker from your pocket, and scanned the room for anything to write on.

You decided you'd rather not risk a catastrophe by grabbing a random piece of paper. Instead, this would work just as well. 

“Crud. Gepard, could I see your hand for a second?” He held out his right arm, the one with the gauntlet on it.

“The other one, silly!” You giggled. He complied.

The soldier flinched in surprise as you rolled back the sleeve on his left arm, holding his wrist with your other hand so you could press the ink onto his skin.

“You have my number now! Don't worry, it'll wash off pretty easily. Anyways, I'm looking forward to our outing tomorrow. I’ll see you then!” You said cheerfully.

“You as well," he called out to you as you rushed out the door. “Travel safely,” 

But then he froze. 

Wait just a minute. 

Isn’t Serval still banned from the Education Committee?

He pondered this thought for a moment, and then chuckled to himself. Well, now I know what that look was for,

———

The sun was high in the sky the next day when you met Gepard in front of the Everwinter Monument. 

He was hard to miss, really. The light reflected off every possible inch of his uniform. When you turned to face him, you had to shield your eyes with a gasp.

Oh, this man was too brilliant for everyday life. 

“I hope you weren't waiting too long,” he said gently, blonde strands of hair waving in the breeze. 

“Not at all! I was just taking my time admiring the monument.” You gazed back up at the incredible sculpture. “That’s not real ice… is it? I feel stupid for asking,” You murmured. 

“Not exactly. It does look remarkably realistic, though. It was made as a tribute to Plamya, one of the many great architects of this city,”

“What did she do?” You looked at him, feeling intrigued but slightly uneducated.

“She's the one who led the charge in constructing the citadel in order to protect the city from the eternal freeze,” he responded, gazing up at the structure. 

“I can't believe one woman spearheaded that entire operation!” you commented. “You sure know a lot about the history of Belobog, Gepard,”

“You could say that. Now, why don't we get going? There’s a lot to see in Belobog’s administrative district,” 

———

To say there was “a lot to see” in the Administrative District was the understatement of the century. 

It was everything you had imagined it to be, pieced together from stories told by your upperclassmen, and more. Your first decision was to stop at various newspaper stands, ecstatically flipping through half of the available merchandise. 

There was so much to read up here! In the Underworld, the same 30 books were cycled between people over and over again. Most of them were medical records kept by Natasha, too. 

Gepard made sure to point out important buildings and historic facts to you as you walked. You had no idea there was so much history to the place! You started bouncing down the street so excitedly, he had to pull you out of the way of an oncoming street car. 

Next, you made sure to peer through the windows of all of the shops. At one particular clothing store, you bent down to get a closer look at the stitchwork on the pieces. There was not a seam to be found. Your guide noticed you staring particularly hard at a certain item of clothing.

“Is there anything that piqued your interest?” Gepard inquired. You sighed, scrunching your face up.

“Well, yes, but I'd rather not spend recklessly right now. I don't want to look like an upstart,” you scoffed. You stared at the article a little longer before turning away and standing up.

“That’s understandable.” He folded his arms and nodded. He took a step back to get a better look at the display window that belonged to the boutique you were so curious about. 

After successfully making every shop owner in a 3-block radius uncomfortable, you decided to check out the famous theater in the area. The building was more elegant than anything you had ever seen in your life, with square columns were detailed down to the centimeter. You figured a single chunk would fetch a pretty decent price. You did still have your old mining pickaxe—,

You squished your face with your hands suddenly to dispel your unholy thoughts. A confused expression flickered across Gepard’s face, but he thought nothing of it. He merely wasn’t accustomed to seeing people this excited, especially when he was present.

You decided to write down a reminder to buy tickets for your next day off.

By noon, you were ridiculously parched from scurrying around the city. You spotted your savior, a friendly vending machine, resting by the stone wall of the lower level of the city. You enthusiastically punched in the numbers for a Jim Roger Bread Soda, asking Gepard if he would like one too.

“Soda? I’ve only had the pleasure of trying it once,” he responded, 

“Ah, I see. We used to drink it a lot when the water wasn't safe,” you reminisced, meeting his gaze. “I wasn't sure if you guys indulged in that type of thing up here,”

“It wouldn't hurt to expand my view on beverages, I suppose.” He rested a hand on his chin thoughtfully.

You fed some more coins into the machine, and out popped a differently shaped bottle. It was rather small, especially for someone with hands like Gepard’s. 

“The carbonation in this one is a little weaker, so maybe you'll like it better. Who knows?” You said with a grin, handing it to him.

When he inspected the label, it read, “Strawberry Svarog”, complete with a curly straw and a cartoon of a laughing child. He deduced it must have been a children’s soda, popping the cap off and tilting his head back, but you stopped him before the bottle reached his lips.

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head disapprovingly. “You’ve gotta use the straw, or else you won't get the full experience!” 

He looked at you quizzically. “Do I really have to?”

You pursed your lips at him. He sighed, tearing open the straw and taking a sip. You had to admit, he did look a little silly, with a serious look on his face and his nose all scrunched up. Stifling a giggle, you screwed the cap off your own soda.

“How is it?” You asked. “I don't think I've ever had that flavor before— Strawberry Svarog? I wonder what he would think if he found out he was being used as a marketing gimmick,” you snickered. 

What on Jarilo-VI is a strawberry? Gepard wondered.

“Not too shabby. Here, try some.” He held it out to you, but instead of taking it in your hands to drink, you leaned forward and took a sip while he was still holding it.

The background chatter around you seemed to cease slightly. 

“I agree! A little on the lukewarm side, but—,”

Mortified, you realized what you had done. 

“Shoot—! I'm s-sorry. Must be gardener’s reflexes or something! I guess I thought I still had dirt on my hands or something… hahaha,” you trailed off.

Your face felt like it was burning as you flailed your arms about, so you spun around quickly to prevent him from seeing your frazzled expression. 

And it was a good thing you did, too, or else you would have seen his.

The soldier next to you resembled more so a “strawberry” than a man. His eyes darted around wildly as he turned the other way to give you some privacy, his hands falling to his side. 

“W-well, no matter.” He coughed. “Why don't we stop and get something to eat as well? You must be famished,”

“Yeah… definitely,”

———

Gepard took you to the cafe by Serval’s workshop, where she and Molly would often stop by on their lunch breaks. You grabbed a croquette sandwich, and him, a muffin. You sat down at the metal tables outside and began to enjoy your food. 

The guard made a noticeable clanking noise as he sat down. He was almost a head taller than you. It was a little embarrassing, frankly. 

“So, Gepard, do you always wear your uniform when you're out and about?” You questioned. 

“I do, yes.” He nodded.

“It has to be comfortable if you wear it all the time, then,” 

Gepard hummed thoughtfully. “Not exactly. But it is required of me, after all.” He took a bite of his muffin. 

You reached across the table and grasped the arm with the gauntlet, examining it closely.

“Whoa! It’s really warm!” You exclaimed, turning his hand over so his palm faced upwards. You curled each of his fingers almost instinctively. “This thing makes you look really tough, you know?” You added. 

Gepard could have died right then and there, and he would have been happy.

“R-really? You think so?” He closed his eyes bashfully. 

You hummed in response, still focused on his handguard.

Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen anyone around here that looks remotely close to him, you wondered. I figured there would be more, since he's a soldier and all, 

You took a bite of your food, determined to remain unbothered. Gepard finished his muffin quickly, so you offered him half your sandwich in your usual generous fashion. 

As you finished up, a commotion coming from the center of the plaza drew your attention. A crowd of around forty people had gathered by the monument, clapping their hands to a steady beat. They seemed to be arranged in a circle surrounding someone.

Your face lit up as you heard the tones of an instrument beneath the chatter of people. The metal chair, which you had been sitting in previously, was pushed away with a screech as you got up. 

Gepard reached out a hand to you as you sprinted towards the throes of people, but faltered and let out a defeated sigh. He gave in and rose to join you instead.

When you reached the center of the square, you spotted the musician you often saw practicing outside the shop, strumming her guitar as people smiled around her. (Although the only reason you knew of her was because Vaska had a huge crush on her and would NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT IT. “Ooh, (Y/N), do you think she likes reading? Do you think she likes Tale of the Winterlands???” It was actually kind of sweet, though.)

According to your sheepish co-worker, it was “just a passing fancy”. This “passing fancy” had been going on for about two months. 

I wonder if I should take a video to send to her, you wondered with an amused smile.

You began to tap your foot in sync with the downbeats of the song. You were taken aback by just how quickly the music ensnared you in its hold. It filled you with energy that coursed through your veins.

And it seemed like you weren't the only one, either. Several people in the crowd began to dance, children and couples alike twirling hand-in-hand. You feel a grin start to form on your face, and decided that now would be a great time to join the fray. 

You leapt into the center, right next to the musician, who gave you a wink. You swayed on your feet with the strums of the guitar, your dress whirling. You kicked your legs into the air, mirroring the person across from you with a giggle. 

Meanwhile, Gepard was politely making his way towards the front of the crowd. 

“Excuse me, apologies, coming through,” he muttered while tapping on people’s shoulders. The crowd parted when they spotted him coming. 

He strained his neck to look into the mass of dancers, spotting you at the center, dipping your arms and spinning on your feet with another girl your age. 

You caught a glimpse of Gepard’s iconic uniform in your line of sight, and immediately waltzed over to him in a rather dramatic fashion. 

You ran your fingers down his forearms lightly, and then interlaced your hands with his, yanking him backwards with all your might into the dancers. He yelped as he stumbled into your arms. For someone built like a tank, he sure came unbalanced easily. 

“Wait— ah, h-hold on, I don't know how to dance—,” Gepard stammered, glancing down at you. 

“That's fine, just hold on to me!” You winked at him, pulling him closer so he couldn't back out. You rested a hand on his shoulder, and wrapped the other around his gauntlet. You shuffled him into a silly looking box step, something that would resemble a dance a family might have in the kitchen.

Gepard’s breath was much heavier than usual, especially because he was in such close proximity to you. Your chests were pressed together, in order to take up the least amount of space as other people spun past you. 

His eyes were wide with surprise as you raised his arm and twirled under it. It took all of his concentration to keep his hands from shaking. He was worried about gripping you too tightly or too loosely, as one wrong move from a guard like him could squish you. 

He tried to dispel his worries, and instead focused on you. You were as radiant as the sun, with a smile brighter than the Belobog snow. 

You two wove through the crowd, stepping rowdily with the upbeat music, and he tried his best to keep up. Gepard felt his cheeks warming while you stared into his eyes, an elated expression paining your features. Unfortunately, it was cut short though. You stepped on your own foot and sent you both tumbling onto the pavement, the clatter of his armor dimming the laughter of children for a split second. 

The crowd stepped out of the way as you rolled on the stone ground, limbs tangling together. 

You burst into raucous laughter as you sat up, holding your stomach because it hurt so much and wiping tears from your eyes. Gepard was engaged in breathy laughter of his own. He looked just like a prince when he was happy, you realized.

“Wow, that was… incredible,” He coughed.

“I know right? I have the grace and beauty of a warp trotter.” You got up and curtseyed, flaring your jacket for extra impact and offering a hand to him.

“I don't see why that matters as long as you're having fun,” He took your hand and you pulled him up with a grunt.

You noticed the crowd was giving you some strange glances, some of them looking directly at you as they whispered under their breath. You clenched your jaw slightly. 

“I guess you're right. On the other hand, you got pretty into it too!” You turned your attention back to him, teasing him with a grin. He wiped his cheek with a distracted look.

Heading out of the crowd, you leaned on his shoulder like a wounded soldier. When you finally escaped, you realized the sun was setting with a start.

“My gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean for it to take this long,” you spoke, embarrassed. “I just got super caught up in the moment, s’all,” 

“No worries,” He said as he gestured reassuringly. “I enjoyed it. I can't remember the last time I spent some quality time in the city,”

“I guess there's always some fun to be had, even if you've lived here your whole life,” you commented. “Wait! I almost forgot— I wanted to get a picture in front of the monument,” you fished your phone out from your bag.

“Of course,” he said courteously, holding his hand out towards you. You looked at him, puzzled.

“Of us, I mean,”

“Oh, um… sure,” He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“It’s all right if you'd rather not,” you yammered, your face beginning to heat up. “It’s just that it's my first time on an outing with a friend! I wanted something to remember it by,” 

“It's fine, it’s not an inconvenience or anything,” he blurted out. 

You motioned for him to stand in front of the monument next to you and raised your phone up. No matter how hard you tried though, you could never catch more than half of his face in the frame, even on your tippy toes. You grumbled as you kept trying to adjust your position.

He took the phone from you gently, holding it up so it caught you both from above. The shutter clicked and he handed it back to you, and you raised your arms above your head with a cheer.

“It looks great! Thank you so, so much. I’ll send it to you once I get the chance,” you beamed. 

“I would enjoy that,” he responded with a soft smile. Fortunately for him, the sunset hid the blush on his face that stubbornly refused to go away. 

He walked you back to the florists, shoulder to shoulder. The streets were now quieter, with the trams having stopped for the day, and all that remained outside the shop was a group of kids and their caretakers. 

You stopped at the stairs, bowing your head when you turned around. 

“Thank you for accompanying me today,” you said gently, rocking from the balls of your feet to your heels. 

“My pleasure,” Gepard replied. He placed a hand on his chest and nodded back, just like a gentleman would. 

As corny as it seemed, your heart fluttered in your ribcage. Resting a hand on your hip, you used the other one to flick him in the forehead, sending a few strands of golden hair flying. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. 

His eyes sprung open, his hand going to his forehead in surprise. 

“It’s best you get going,” you said. “Soldiers need their beauty rest, after all. Get home safely!” 

He nodded with a silent smile before turning away and starting off towards the direction of Qlipoth Fort. While he was walking, he felt a vibration in his pocket. 

His phone had one new notification, which was from you. Gepard opened up the messaging app to see the photo you had taken. You were wearing a goofy grin, and he was bent down with his lips pressed together sheepishly.

Gepard felt something akin to happiness bubbling up from his chest. He looked up into the sky, allowing himself a single second to loosen up, and pumped his fists into his chest. He sauntered towards the estate, humming one of his sister’s songs as he went. 

Meanwhile, the kids playing nearby were dumbfounded. A little red-haired girl stopped and pointed at him.

“Mommy, what's that man doing?”

—

A few days later, you were sitting on the edge of your mattress, waiting for Vaska to reply to a text you sent earlier that morning. Two tickets to the Golden Theater laid on your bedside table. Your phone buzzed and your hand darted to pick it up nervously. 

From: Vaska

Vaska: Sorry, I can't come to the theater today! 

Vaska: I haven’t had time to reread Tale of the Winterlands lately. I wanted to get to that today.

You: That’s all right! The tickets were discounted, so I just figured I would get them! Enjoy your reading!

Vaska: Wait, I am available for lunch though. 

Vaska: It feels like forever since I’ve seen you! 

You: Vaska, we work together.

Vaska: Yes. And?

You: …

You: Ok, I’ll be there.

You sighed, shaking your head. It had been a bad idea to buy an extra ticket, even if they WERE discounted for the final day of thIs play they were showing. 

Well, worst case scenario, I have a fancy piece of paper I can hang up, but it’ll be a shame if this ticket gets wasted, you thought to yourself.

You chewed on your nails. Should I ask Serval? She might still be busy fixing her device. I’d better not… 

What about Gepard? Maybe I could pay him back for giving me that tour, You flicked the screen to Gepard’s contact info, but you noticed the name in the slot read “Gerard” instead. 

Oh shoot, better fix that,

You tapped the screen to edit his name, but hit the “call” button by mistake. 

“Nono wait no—,” you gasped. Your thumb darted to the red icon in the corner, but you heard someone on the other line pick up ridiculously quickly. 

“Hello? Gepard Landau speaking,” His voice was clear on the other end. Your nervous system threatened to wrangle its way out of your body that very second. 

“Hi! Hello! Um—, I’m really sorry,” you stuttered. “I clicked the call button by mistake,”

“Oh..? That’s all right,” There was no marked change in tone when he spoke again. He was standing in the office of the new Supreme Guardian, right next to some stacks of papers. Pela peeked her head out from behind one of them.

“I was meaning to ask you about something though,” you blurted out, grabbing your beret from the side table. “I happen to have an extra ticket to the Golden Theater. There’s a showing today at two o’clock. I'm sorry it’s on short notice, but would you like to come with me?” 

Gepard clasped his phone in a death grip.

“Ahem—, yes. That works for me. I don't have any urgent meetings today. Can I meet you on the steps outside the building?” He asked. 

“Yep! Sounds good! I’ll see you— YEOW!!!” Your foot smacked your dresser as you spun towards the door. You yelped as your phone flew out of your hands and landed on the ground a solid meter away. 

You groaned, rolling onto your back and sitting up, tears springing to your eyes. 

“Shit—! Aeons, that hurt,” you winced.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)?? Is everything all right?” You heard Gepard say loudly. 

“Y-yeah. I tripped, s’all,” you grunted, placing a hand on the wall to keep yourself steady as you rose to your feet. “That definitely woke me up,”

“Take care of yourself,” he sighed, relieved.

“Yep, yep! I’ll see you— soon!” You choked out and hung up frantically. You placed both hands against the wall and hit your head against it repeatedly, groaning in shame. 

———

You were in the middle of fixing the broken cash register when a familiar blonde-haired woman walked through the door.

“Serval!” Your head shot up as you gave her an excited wave. “Good to see you! What brings you to our shop today?” 

She strolled over to the counter, where various pieces of equipment were sprawled out on the surface. 

“Mornin’ (Y/N)! Molly and I were just RAVING about how the flowers Gepard got us have livened up the place!” Serval tossed her silky hair over her shoulder. “We were thinking of buying some more, since we could really use some more color in our lives,”

“I'm sure flowers are better than soot,” you giggled. “What did the Ministry of Education say about the experiment you were running?”

“Huh?” Serval looked bewildered. 

“The research project? Y’know, the one that exploded??” A shadow of confusion flickered across your face.

“Oh! Yes, that one! They were gracious enough to give me an extension.” She shook her head up and down aggressively, her eyes rattling in her skull.

“I'm glad to hear it!” You wiped your forehead in relief, turning to some pots resting on a cabinet. “So… as for the flowers… I know you have the purple ones, so why not go with yellow? Purple can represent maturity and elegance, and yellow might round it out a bit.” You ran your fingers across the wood.

“Although, if you'd like to keep the place feeling more formal, you could go with these blue ones here,” you quipped. “They match Molly’s hair,” 

You lifted up the planter that held said flowers, which were white on the inside, but faded into a dark teal on the edges.

Serval reached out to touch them tentatively, her eyes flicking towards something behind you.

“Hmm… what’s that one over there?” She said inquisitively.

“Oh--!” You spun around to see what she was pointing at. It was a wooden window box, filled to the brim with flowers of every hue.

“That’s one of our clearance boxes! We had a mix up with the seed packets during planting time, so they’re 30% off. Pretty interesting looking, right?” You lifted up the box, your chest heaving with effort. 

“Definitely.” She peered over the walls of the box with an approving smile. “I'll take this one,”

“Really? Are you sure?” 

“One hundo percent. This one speaks to me,” she mused.

“Fair enough. Whatever pleases the Rock Star of Belobog.” You shook your head and shrugged.

“Oh please, you flatter me,” she chuckled. You pushed the components of the cash register into a neat pile to make way for the flowers. 

A ghost of a smile crossed your lips as you recalled how painstakingly long Gepard had spent picking up the flowers for his sister, and just how spontaneously she had chosen hers. 

I can’t believe I know people equally as incredible, but as different as night and day, you contemplated.

“So, (Y/N),” Serval piped up, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You seem awfully chipper today. Did something good happen?”

Maybe something involving a certain bashful captain? She thought with a sly smile. 

The air in the room seemed to turn pink as you swayed happily. 

“Well, business has been skyrocketing lately with the weather getting warmer.” You rested your head in the palm of your hand thoughtfully. “More people feel like they have the means to take care of flowers! In fact, there’s been a ton of people coming in today,”

“Awwh, that's wonderful!” She said joyfully. “...anything else?”

Her smile grew wider. Serval could almost sense there was something you weren’t telling her. You gulped. 

“Um— well, Gepard and I are heading to the theater today,” you said, a little quieter than the way you had talked previously. “I wanted to thank him for guiding me around the plaza a few days back,”

“What??? Why didn't you lead with that??” She slammed her hands on the desk, flabbergasted. You flinched and shook your head. 

“It’s not THAT big of a deal,” you brushed it off sheepishly. “Just a little outing, nothing more to it,”

Serval’s bottom lip quivered with something between joy and rage.

“It is too!” she argued. “My brother lives and breathes his work. I can't believe someone is finally helping him loosen up a bit,” She sniffled dramatically. “I think I'm getting teary-eyed!” 

You handed her the hefty window box with a smirk. “If you say so. Well then, it was great seeing you! Take good care of them,” 

“Of course! Have fun on your date!!!” Serval sang, pushing the door open.

“Wait—,”

She gave you a salute with her free hand and slipped through the crack in the door before it shut. 

Well, that was weird, to say the least,

———

“... and seventy-five grams high nutrient fertilizer,” Gepard murmured, reading off the slip of paper you had given him. He scooped some fine powder from the burlap sack, lowering himself to eye-level with the plant with the meticulousness of a scientist. 

His blue eyes were fixed on the measuring spoon, tilting it onto the plant when his sister barged in. She was carrying a box of flowers, almost slamming the door into the wall with how much foece she put in. Gepard flinched so hard he flung the spoon into the air and it hit the ceiling with a “thud”.

“Geppie!!!” Serval shouted affectionately as the spoon landed on the hardwood. “A little birdie told me that you have a date at the theater today!!” 

She sauntered in and set down the flower box on his desk. He looked on sadly as bits of soil fell onto his paperwork.

“A d-date? Where’d you get that from? And how did you even get in here!? I thought the Landau—,” he stumbled over his own words and she cut him off, too elated to notice how she was trampling his attempts to speak.

“I stopped by the flower shop this morning. You never mentioned anything of the sort!” She swayed excitedly.

“That’s because I found out today,” Gepard grumbled. “They merely had an extra ticket.” He bent down to gather some of the fertilizer into a pile on the floor.

Unless… they said it was a date..? He felt hope rising in his chest but he quickly squashed it. Hope? No, he wasn’t hoping. Of course not. 

Serval smirked, stepping closer to him. 

“Don't think I don't notice how utterly smitten you are.” She looked at her nails with a frivolous expression. “You know, how your face gets all rosy, your voice gets higher, and you listen extra hard when they speak?” 

Gepard’s lips pulled back into a thin line. He glanced at the bamboo plant one last time before spinning around and dropping onto the bed, the mattress straining with the sudden weight.

The Captain rested his head in his hands, heaving a sigh as his blue eyes stared onto the floor. 

“Is it… that obvious?” He said quietly.

Serval widened her eyes in surprise. Usually her brother stood his ground and brushed her off. She took a break from her teasing to plop down on the feather bed next to him. 

“Maybe just to me,” she answered. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. 

“After all, I've known you long enough that I've never seen you care about anything this much. Your sister gets a little worried sometimes! You practically live and breathe your work.” Serval leaned slightly off the bed to get a closer look at his face, analyzing his features.

“And, as much as I love to tease you about it, I’m really happy my cute little brother has found someone he wants to offer his heart to,”

She rifled a hand through his hair teasingly, sending golden strands everywhere. Gepard’s hands shot up defensively with a grunt. They sat in silence for a bit, until she spoke up again.

“Also, I’ve noticed you've gotten pretty good at taking care of plants now too! Look at you, my little gardener!” Said Serval. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair now. I doubt the Landau Residence really wants me around anyways.” She shrugged, picking up her box. She kicked the door open unceremoniously and skipped out into the hallway, leaving a plethora of confused faces in her wake. 

Gepard sighed. She hadn’t let him get a single word in edgewise. It was the trademark Landau stubbornness, after all.

———

Vaska’s stream of praises for the cafe you had chosen today were endless. She had the expression of someone who had just won the lottery as she bit into a cinnamon strudel. 

“Mmm, thish ish sooo delicious...” She licked the sugary dust off her fingers in satisfaction, wiping her lips and picking up another one. “How’d you find this place?”

“A friend introduced me,” you replied as you sipped your raspberry mint tea. “I'm surprised you didn't know about it, actually,”

“Well, I'm trying to avoid spending money because I’m saving for the upcoming sequel of my favorite book!” She giggled. The air seemed to be filled with sparkles all of a sudden. 

“Is it to Tale of the Winterlands?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. 

“Bingo!”

“Aren't you afraid of it being confiscated?” 

“Not anymore,” Vaska crossed her arms with a smile. “It’s pending approval. Anyways, I didn't know you had friends outside of the flower shop. I'm glad you're finally branching out!” 

She rested her index finger on her cheek before continuing. “Although… Meg is gonna have your head if you keep coming back late after deliveries,”

“Gah, I know, I know. I just get so caught up talking to one of the clients. The friend I was just talking about,”

“Hmph. I'm just trying to keep you out of the fire, you know. On the other hand, she sounds delightful! What’s she like?”

“Um,” you paused. “He’s a guard,”

“A guard?” Her eyes glittered as she leaned across the table. “No way. An Underworlder and a guard, huh? What an interesting pair!” 

You chuckled. “I guess you're right. He can be a little awkward sometimes, but he's very genuine and diligent!” 

“As all good guards are, of course,” she nodded. A surprised expression flickered across your face.

“Vaska… Is there something you want to tell me?” You jested. “I didn't know you had a type. Besides the musician, of course,”

You've never seen someone’s expression go deadpan so quickly. 

“No. Nope. You've got it all wrong!!” She crossed her forearms in an “X”. 

“The idea of romance isn't half bad, but being in it sounds way too hard. If anything, my type would be more like Anna, from—,”

“Tale of the Winterlands,” you interjected again. She hummed in approval.

“That’s understandable,” you said. “You’re both very independent,”

“Aww, you think so?” A rosy blush spread across your co-worker’s face. “It's so nice to have a friend like you,”

She fiddled with the straw in her drink. “Anyways… what's the name of your guard friend?” You took a sip of your own before replying.

“Gepard,” 

Vaska’s jaw dropped through the floor.

“WHAT?!?” She stood up and slammed her hands onto the table. You recoiled in shock, her exclamation almost blowing your beret off. Heads turned towards your table as you panicked.

“Shh! Vaska, keep it down!” You hissed, placing your hands on her forearms in an attempt to soothe her. She sat back down and began to chew on her fingernails.

“Gepard… Gepard Landau??”

“Uh-huh,”

“Blonde hair, blue eyes, built like a tank?”

“Yeah, what about him? He’s not like a serial killer or something, right??”

Your mind flashed back to the times he directed you to the inside of the sidewalk or smiled tenderly at the flowers in the shop when he thought no one was looking.

No way—,

“No, goodness gracious no. Of course not! Gepard is the furthest thing from a serial killer you could get.” She shook her head vigorously, her beret flying off and drifting to the floor. She leaned down from her chair to grab it, her face still red from shouting.

“Then WHY is this such a big deal??” You inquired with an exasperated look on your face. 

“It’s because HE'S THE CAPTAIN OF THE SILVERMANE GUARDS,” she spat out in a single breath. She let out a wheeze as she dropped her head onto the table.

It was your turn for your jaw to drop. 

“Th--, Th-the Captain?!? Oh Aeons…” you stammered, biting on a mint leaf. You winced as the icy juices spread across your tongue. 

“Didn't you notice no other ‘guard’ in the area looked like him?”

“I mean, yes. But I thought the guards OUTSIDE the city wore stuff like that too,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

“Oh by the PRESERVATION.” She ran a palm across her face. 

“And— and I did notice people gave us some weird looks when we danced in the square—,”

“You DANCED WITH HIM???”

Vaska was about to rip her hair out. You buried your face in your arms and nodded. 

“...Vaska, does this mean I have to stop hanging out with him?” You said quietly.

She grabbed you by the cheeks and pulled you close.

“NO. Of course not. It’s just that.. I’d hate for you to be involved in some high class squabble or something,” she snorted. “You know how easily agitated the nobles are,”

“Er—, Not really?”

“Well, they are! Who knows, you probably already have a bunch of jealous suitors!” 

You held your palms out to placate her. “I mean, Gepard is great and all, but it’s really not like that. He values his work more than anything,” 

“You can't ever be too safe.” She gave you a warning glance. “If rumors get spread, and you lose your job, who would I look forward to talking to every day??” 

“I’d still come and visit!” You protested. “And I hardly believe Meg would kick me out because of a bunch of silly rumors,” you said flatly.

“That is NOT the issue,” she groaned. You reached out and clasped her hands.

“Don't worry, Vaska. I'm gonna be careful, okay?” 

“I trust you, but just know I will be terrified. Forever. ‘Til the end of days,” she bemoaned. 

“I get where you’re coming from,” you reassured her. “Just remember, this is my decision. I’d never take on anything I couldn’t handle!”

She pouted, stretching her arm across the cafe table and snagging your tea. She took a sip and handed it back to you.

“Ugh. Too much milk,” she scowled before quickly returning to her normal self. “Now, Tell me what being friends with the Captain of the Silvermane Guards is like…” 

You laughed gently. 

“Of course. I'd be happy to,”

———

Later, after you had left the cafe, you opened up your phone and sent a text to Serval. 

To: Serval

You: Serval, why did no one bother telling me that your brother is the captain of the Silvermane Guards???

Serval: …belobog’s last bastion of hope?

You: Do NOT avoid the question

Serval: ahahaha

Serval: sorry, sorry

Serval: I thought you knew

You: I did not.

Serval: oops

Serval: don’t worry, it’s not like he's any less dorky when he's commanding platoons or anything

You: SERVAL

Read at 13:22 pm ✅

Seriously???

You just about threw your phone across the street. 

———

The wind was a little stronger than usual the day you met Gepard for your theater “date”. You had to bring along a pack of tissues to keep from sniffling the entire walk there. It almost felt like little ice crystals were lodging in your throat as you breathed.

The Captain was leaning up against a wall outside of the building. He was wearing less armor than usual, this time only dressed in a white military tunic with a black jacket underneath. His usual gauntlet was missing and had been replaced with black leather gloves, and a few blue and gold metals dotted his chest. 

Wow. That is a LOT of medals, you whispered internally. You felt a little weird in your traditional Belobogian attire. You suspected people would just assume he was escorting some poor pedestrian. 

Even without the uniform you were so used to seeing, he was no less noticeable.

Or dashing, you thought, glancing off to the side. Then you remembered the conversation you had with Serval earlier. You felt something tug at your heart.

I’m sure he has his reasons, you shook your head to clear the doubt. 

“There’s quite a sizable crowd today. Is it always like this?” You spoke up, trotting beside him towards the entrance stairs. 

The building was grand, it stood out like a gem amidst gravel alongside the other buildings. It had columns made of intricately carved stone, and brilliantly dyed banners hung from every surface possible. 

“Ah, yes. The Golden Theater is a magnet for people seeking a way to spend their leisure.” Gepard adjusted the collar of his jacket. “Take care not to get trampled,”

“I’ll try,” you said haphazardly. You pulled out the delicate silver tickets from your pocket and held them up into the sunlight, examining them energetically. 

His eyes rolled down to where your small form stood shivering in the cold, but still trying your best to keep the tremor out of your voice. A part of him wanted to reach down and pull you closer. He looked forward again to prevent himself from thinking too hard about it.

Gepard noticed that your eyes lingered on him a little longer than usual, especially on the medals. He felt a twinge of nervousness somewhere deep in his chest. 

I'm sure it's nothing, he sighed inwardly. 

You arrived at the mahogany doors to the theater, held open by rather formal-looking workers, and went in. You squinted in surprise at just how bright it was due to gaudy crystal chandeliers reflecting light across the walls. It smelled like velvet and old books, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, just unfamiliar.

“You seem very excited,” he said, gazing down at you. You nodded. 

“Excited?? I’m thrilled! Yet another thing I can cross off the bucket list!” You said confidently, pressing your fist to your chest. “I'm sure you've seen these events a thousand times, right? It must be pretty weird seeing me get excited about these types of things.” You pulled at the fabric of your clothing to distract yourself. 

“This is the first time you’ve been able to take advantage of the activities offered on the Surface. It would be unreasonable of me to expect you not to be thrilled,” Gepard said, surprised. “And I haven’t, for the record. Serval was never one to enjoy formal events.” He shrugged. 

He gazed back at you as you stared at the paintings decorating the hallway. A lot of them were snowy and unforgiving landscapes, illustrating the devastation the Eternal Freeze had caused. 

“I guess you wouldnt’ve had too much time for it, either. Captain’s duties, right?” You chirped. 

Gepard froze. 

It was something about the way you said it, tinged with just a little too much enthusiasm. 

You continued to walk, seemingly unbothered while he frantically searched for something to bring up. You stopped at a display of a metal sculpture and “oohed” at it, then dodged a random passerby as more people began to stream in. It didn’t look like you were mad, at least. 

That feeling of nervousness from earlier resurfaced, making him feel like his insides were churning. Gepard was at a loss for words. He had assumed you knew at first, but it became clearer as time went on that you didn’t.

It was unusual for him NOT to mention it, but after your first meeting, he felt like he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to lose that strange feeling of being on equal footing with someone. 

You were so genuine and inquisitive, unlike the numerous businessmen and aristocrats of the city. The burden on his shoulders lessened the slightest bit when he talked to you. 

It’s not like he minded dedicating his life to his duties, but he didn’t want to let go of the warmth you offered him. 

Was he selfish for wanting that?

His eyebrows scrunched up as he mulled over what the right thing to say would be, but he couldn't drum up a solution before an usher gave you both a slip of paper and showed you to your seats. They were more towards the back of the chamber, next to a door covered in black fabric to minimize the amount of light getting in. You two sat down on the velvet cushions in silence, while the auditorium around you was bustling with chatter. 

You clenched your fists in your lap, beginning to get a little nervous at the silence as well. Gepard was a man of few words, but it was far too quiet for your liking. 

Was that the wrong thing to say? Your thoughts fired at a mile a minute. Maybe he thinks I’m snooping around… Does he think I only want to get closer to him because of his position??

I guess people of our standing wouldn’t normally hang out anyways. Vaska had a point. I do feel kind of weird now that I know,

I’m not afraid of the nobles, you realized. I’m afraid I’m going to bring him down, 

Scenarios started flashing into your head, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you tried to expel them from your brain. As the curtains rose and the lights dimmed, you tried to focus your mind on the story instead.

A show this grand had never graced the likes of the Underworld, you realized as it started. The play you had bought tickets to on a whim was called a “musical”, you believed they called it. 

I don't see why they need to sing to tell a story, you thought skeptically. The lead singer was gorgeous, though. Her name was Tamila, if you remembered correctly. You took a look at the pamphlet that the usher gave you, when blinding light filled your vision. 

Blinking like a warp trotter in the headlights of a streetcar, you realized one of the spotlights had turned your way, onto the door, to be exact. 

You saw the fabric swish open as a woman in a gilded mask whisked out, belting out a new musical number and leaping down the aisle. Several more dancers followed behind her, swooping their arms in synchrony. 

You had to admit, it was a cool idea, although you could use a little less light in your face. You figured it had to do with the fact you had only experienced the serene light of the geomarrow column most of your life, not whatever the heck this was. 

Even with the ridiculous amount of light in your eyes, you came to realize with a start that most of it wasn’t even hitting you. Gepard had it way worse, he was actually catching the majority of the spotlight. You could see how his blue eyes were squinting as he tried his best to focus on the scene. It was kind of cute, actually. 

Huh, so it’s just like in real life too, you thought, amused. You made up your mind at that very moment. 

If Gepard was the sun, it was only natural others would live in his shadow. It didn’t matter if he was the captain or not, as long as you still wanted to spend time together, everything was fine as it was.

Besides, if anyone ever gave you flack, you could just get out your old mining pickaxe. 

You turned your eyes back to the play, the troupe of people that had entered from the door had finally joined the main group onstage. The dance grew into a passionate frenzy, and then finished with the masked woman sweeping Tamila into the air, then catching her as the cast cheered. 

Clapping joyfully, you watched the actors bow while the audience showered them in bouquets. 

Wow. No wonder there were so many people coming in today, you realized. You wilted a bit as one of the actors stepped on a Rainbow and turned it to mush. 

Gepard couldn’t help but smile at your appreciation for the show as you left the theater, stopping outside the building to avoid the worst of the crowd.

The wind was even stronger than before. You tucked your face into the collar of your shirt miserably while shuffling behind Gepard in hopes he could block the wind for you. 

“Th-thank you for coming with me G-Gepard,” you shivered. “I know h-how you must have a limited amount of free time,”

“Of course,” he replied. “With the Fragmentum letting up, I’ve been able to be out and about more often,” 

The Captain noticed you shying behind him, so he stepped a little closer. You probably weren’t quite used to the cold yet. You thanked him silently.

“In fact,” he continued. “I’ve taken it upon myself to be a volunteer tour guide at the museum as of late,”

“The History and uh… whatever one?” You sniffled.

“History and Culture, yes.” He nodded wisely. He brushed a couple stray hairs out of his face but the wind immediately blew them back.

“Gepard, that’s incredible. You work as hard as ten men!” You giggled. He snorted gently.

“I should stop by sometime. Do you know when the hours are?”

“I’m afraid I don't,” Gepard said, placing a hand on his chin deliberately. “But there should be a sign outside the entrance,”

“If you want, we can stop by before we part ways,” he offered. The Captain pointed over to a faraway building as you walked down the stairs, the crowd having finally eased up.

“Only if you want to. I don't want to drag you by the ear or anything,” you grinned but immediately regretted it as your teeth chattered.

He shook his head. “I'd never offer to do anything I didn’t want to do,”

You gave him a skeptical look. 

“You offered to clean Serval’s workshop…”

———

You could hardly stop yourself from breaking into a run as you neared the museum entrance. A fountain with a large Geomarrow heater sat outside the building and you almost forgot what you were there for as you watched it, mesmerized. A museum employee was standing in front of a corkboard, which you took a quick picture of. Then you turned back to the fountain. 

“Whoa, running water,” you murmured, awestruck. You turned to Gepard, who was standing a few meters away, and called,

“Hey! Gepard! How much trouble would I be in if I drank some??”

“The plumbing system in this city goes back 700 years. I wouldn’t recommend it,” he responded flatly, folding his arms. 

You turned back to the fountain, humbled. You didn’t need any more iron in your system than you already had. 

Resting your arms on the rim of the base, a glint of bronze flickered in the corner of your vision. A small coin landed in the water with a plop. 

You turned to see where it came from, promptly spotting Gepard walking up to you. He tapped you on the shoulder and placed a coin in the palm of your hand. He made a flicking motion with his thumb, which you mimicked, closing your eyes. The coin flipped into the air and landed in the top level of the fountain.

“Nice job,” Gepard commented. You pumped a fist into the air. 

“So… what did you wish for?” You inquired. He sighed.

“I don’t think I’m liable to tell you that,” said the Captain with a serious glance at you. Too serious. You prodded him with your index finger.

Giving up, you looked back at the water but suddenly something large and made of metal crashed into you from behind. 

You toppled in headfirst, inadvertently inhaling a huge gulp of water. You sputtered as you panicked and tried to figure out which way was up, when you felt arms wrap around your legs and back, lifting you out of the basin. 

Clinging to the chest of your rescuer, you coughed harshly, the cold air scraping your lungs while water dripped out your mouth. You were lowered gently onto the ground, recognizing the medals on Gepard’s coat as he stood up and leaned over you. 

“(Y/N), are you alright?” 

Is this the face of God? You wondered, dazed as you stared into his blue eyes. He shouted something you were definitely not paying attention to.

“(Y/N)—,” 

You sat up, almost knocking him in the head. Your eyes traveled towards two guilty looking kids, standing behind a cart wearing museum worker IDs.

“That was quite the fall. Did you hit anything?” 

“I don’t think so.” You winced, struggling to your feet. The museum aide hurried over.

“I am so, so, so sorry. We had a new display coming in and I should have told them to be more careful—,” You blinked at her as she clutched at her head in worry.

“Hey, it’s all right, really. I was like that when I got my first job,” you reassured her. You placed your hands on your hips and faced them.

“Although, if you two aren’t careful from now on, the Supreme Guardian might eat you for lunch, got it?” You said, amused. 

They both bowed and hurried off with the cart. A sculpture labeled “The Galactic Baseballer” peeked out from the side of it. 

Interesting name, you thought.

“You handled that well,” Gepard said, bringing you back to reality. 

“Did I?” You tilted your head at him, lifting your sleeves to let the water drip off them. “Aeons above, I really took it upon myself to absorb every possible drop of water possible,” 

You crossed your arms over your soaked chest, feeling a chill beginning to seep into your bones.

Gepard’s shoulders tensed up. He swiveled his head around, scanning the city, while resting his hands on your forearms. You were left with no time to think before he swept you off your feet and hoisted you onto his shoulder. 

You were frazzled beyond belief. 

“Wait— wait, wait. Gepard what are you—,” Your eyes whisk across the pavement, surveying for any nosy onlookers. 

The Captain carried you to one of the many metal benches dotting the city with a geomarrow heater next to it. He set you down, before taking off his jacket and wrapping it around you gently.

‘Mind the wet sleeves, I’ll be right back,” he said before starting off towards some unknown destination. You basked in the newfound heat given off by the appliance, holding out your hands to gather as much of it as you could.

I feel like an abandoned pet, your inner voice said. You exhaled, your breath leaving a trail in the air. Thank Qlipoth for these heaters, 

Gepard’s coat was surprisingly comfortable. It was obviously made of durable materials meant to trap in heat. You pulled it closer around your shivering form, nuzzling into the collar contentedly. 

A couple minutes later, when you felt yourself beginning to drift off, you heard the familiar clanking of boots again. You opened your eyes, and lo and behold, it was Gepard!

“My apologies for taking so long. I grabbed you something to wear while your clothes dry.” He held out the item of clothing at arm's length for you to see better. 

You inhaled sharply as you realized it was the same piece of clothing you had been staring at so intently the day you toured the city together. It looked like it was exactly your size, too. 

He remembered?

You felt your heart start to race as he handed it to you. You took it gratefully, taking a moment to stare at the piece. Burying your face in it, you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes. 

It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be this kind,

It was honestly overwhelming.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, your voice muffled. “I’m warming up just fine.” You finally raised your head, blinking the tears away, and rubbed your shoes together to get some of the feeling back into your feet.

“Let’s get you home,” he stated. “The windchill on the surface is nothing to joke about,” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you replied. You got up, still wearing Gepard’s coat, and hung onto his arm for good measure while you walked. You did mourn the loss of the heater, but this time, your teeth didn’t chatter.

“I’m sorry for having to borrow your coat, even though it’s cold out,” you murmured. “You really are the perfect person to protect the city, you know that?” You smiled up at him gently. Gepard’s nerves buzzed with electricity. 

“It’s nothing extraordinary,” he sighed. “I merely take protecting the things I care about seriously. That’s what being a guard is about,”

He tried not to pay attention to how tenaciously you were gripping onto his sleeve.

“Well, I think you’re extraordinary.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

As cheesy as that is,

You handed Gepard his coat as you returned to your quaint little flower shop. How badly he wanted to tell you that you could borrow it, and return it to him later so he could see you again. He smiled to himself as you went back inside. 

This would do for now.

———

“Great heavens, (Y/N). Did you fall into the ocean or something?” Vaska exclaimed as you dragged yourself upstairs.

“No,” you grumbled, the tips of your coat still dripping. “We all know oceans are a myth,”

“Looking at you, I'd believe they were real,” she fired back as you retreated into your room. You hurriedly shed your wet coat and shoes, putting on the garment Gepard had bought you. 

You turned to look at it from every angle in the full-length mirror before deciding to collapse onto your bed. You combed your fingers through your hair, picking up your floral-patterned pillow and squeezing it tightly. 

Am I— am I in some kind of rom-com?? You groaned inwardly. Your face was flushed with something along the likes of happiness, embarrassment, or both.

Gepard had been nothing but kind during the time you spent together. After years of being a mere vagrant, you almost felt… special when he looked at you.

His blue eyes were so thoughtful and considerate and—,

No!!! I’ve got to keep it together! 

Rolling over, you pressed the pillow into your face and let a guttural shriek loose from your lungs. You chucked it across the room, your hair now a mess.

Meg’s voice rang from downstairs. “KEEP IT DOWN UP THERE!!” 

2023 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

#gepard x reader #gepard x reader fluff #gepard fanfic #hsr x reader #gepard fluff #not genshin #fanfic #text #BFABC #The name feels cringy to me I just might die auuuugh #Mossball_Writing

[buzzkillers]

A little of you, A little of Me

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Warning: non-con, power unbalance, implied smut, emotional manipulation, fuck or die (?)

He said it was a canon event. He was obviously lying. 

Not like that mattered, in the grand scheme of things anyway. Everyone lied to you here, no one thought you were worthy of the truth. This wasn't your world after all and this wasn't your New York. So the rules were just a bit different, a little off.

You couldn't get a pass by just being you.

Nah, you were a played out parlor trick. Something that's been copied and pasted into far too many universes and dimensions. You weren't special. Your name might've not been Peter Parker but that wasn't enough.

You needed to be more. You needed to have something. Anything that would impress Miguel enough to see you as a threat; as someone not worth lying to.

Outside of that, what was there to say? You were just a variant.

Another younger spider person that life hadn’t trampled on yet in your attempt at a normal life. You weren't Ben Reilly or Jessica or that miniature spider from Earth 6-877. And if you wanted to be nice (which was rare) you'd say that your purpose was to look like you had purpose. Like you had any business being here at all.

Just someone to look at Miguel so he could rant and whine about anomalies and dimensional pockets as if any of that sounded sane.

Yet, against your will, you fell in line all the same. Under his gaze, your back straightened and your heart beated erratically while you at least pretended to listen. You had no other choice really. Blame it on being young, or a spider or simply being too naive to see the bad in good.

But when someone with enough confidence, bravado and well everything that made Miguel who he was, said something. It was almost to easy to listen to him, it was practically expected. What else were you going to do? Be stubborn, selfish? Ignorant?

Maybe that’s why Miguel O’hara terrified you. 

You knew he was lying but you couldn’t help but listen anyway. In the grand scheme of things he was good at that. With precision and brute strength, he strung together a web of lies and sticky fibs that made you unable to leave. ‘Your canon event’ he had whispered to you in the darkness of his lair. (Cause what else would you call an office with only a computer as its light source) 

He had said it so smoothly, so easily; With open arms and eyes wide enough to hide the glimmer of red sheeted underneath it. There was no light show this time, no complicated holograms of the dead parents and the venom symbiotes or the constant blood and death and lost children, no it was just him.

And somehow that was way worse, way more horrific and ankle biting for someone like you.

After all, Miguel was the world, the universe and you were just this thing. This small, crushable thing that backed away and flinched when he took a step too close.

Who couldn’t hide the panicked breaths and syrupy heat that pooled in your stomach. You were nothing beneath the man that created it all. It was a fact that made your ears stay perked up beneath the mask. You were you and he was everything. You should've just listened to him. Yet,

“I don't understand,” it was a statement that broke through all of the other bullshit that bubbled in the base of your throat. All the fear and confusion until you looked at him head on. At Miguel whose frame suddenly swallowed the very shadow of you; With his tall stature and big eyes that glowed in the dark, a new light source that only made you tense up.

A moth that was afraid of the light. That's what you were and you couldn’t help but place another foot back; stumbling like a gangly spider with no stickiness to its legs.

Miguel of course, stood tall and firm. 

“I know it's a lot to take in, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you,” you frowned at that, another lie. So much so that your senses couldn’t help but ring a bit higher.

“Then why did you,” you blurted out, cause what else was there to say? Nothing it seemed because Miguel only looked down at you, forever down at you as if you were a kid.

As if you didn’t have a college essay due in a week and a date with your own Peter in another. Jesus, you paid taxes for crying out loud.

You weren’t a child, you weren’t Gwen or Pavitar or god forbid Peter B. You were fucking Spider-Woman, you could ask questions, you could ask why. But the longer the question lingered in the air, the more childish you felt and the more ridiculous you realized it was to question Miguel. 

Suddenly you felt silly, even if Jessica was suspiciously not here and Peter was gone and everyone that littered the corners of this office of his was now non-existent.

To be honest, if it weren’t for the scuffs you heard beneath the floorboards, you might’ve been tricked into thinking that you were the only ones in this building, in this entire shitty city even. 

The corners of your lips now trembled and your hands pulled at the spandex of your suit. You looked down. “I have a date next week,”

"it's gonna be our first one," it was a shitty protest but,

“And do you think that's worth the end of the multiverse?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply crowded you in and backed you up roughly until your feet twisted again with the other. 

“Do you think your Peter would want everyone to die just so what? He can get his dick wet?” Your face twisted at that.

“Go fuck yourself," Cause nah you weren’t a push over.

Yet, you could only bring your mask halfway up to say it; enough for him to read your lips and see the way they sneered at him. He didn’t need to know that your eyes were firm on the ceiling the whole time.

“You know nothing about me, about him,”

He got closer, suddenly you were chest to chest. “I know that the Miguel in your universe is dead,”

“I know that in every version of you and every version of me there's an us, no matter how it happens, or how quick it is,” Bullshit, it was all fucking bullshit. But he said it with such confidence and reluctance, like the words were hard to think about, much less say.  

“Listen, I’ll make it quick” he continued, a rough hand now on your shoulder. All that muscle that you built over the years now nothing beneath his grip.

Optimistically, some part of you thought he meant for it to be reassuring but your senses have started to scream and there was a tremble in your thighs that wasn't there before. This time, it was Miguel that pushed you back, your knees buckling into something hard. 

“No, there has to be another way,” 

“There's not—unfortunately” he added on, like it was an afterthought. 

"Bullshit,"

“Did you even try?”

“Try?” he cocked his head, jaw clenched tight. “Trying means there's a possibility of failing, Spider-woman,” 

“Are you willing to take that risk?” Are you? Have you ever? Of course, the words stayed stuck in your throat.

Buried and dead, all while Miguel looked at you with the intensity of someone who regularly gave false choices before solemnly he rolled his shoulders. Whatever he found in the tremble of your lips and awkwardness of your gait making him attempt something close to a smile. 

"Listen, I'm trying to be nice," He sighed, his fangs gleaming beneath his lips. "Or do you think I want this? Want you?" And ok, ouch.

"Man, I just think this situation is fucked,"

"I mean, why does it have to be you," it could be any other varient. Any other Miguel. But the comment only earned you another childish look down.

Another sneer that said you knew nothing, he knew everything and you might as well just fall in line. The grip on your shoulders grew tighter. Beneath him you suffocated.

Above you, his eyes bled red and his fangs never looked so sharp. "The multiverse could collapse at any moment and you want conveniency?"

"I was just thinking-"

"And that's the problem,"

"You thought, and now we're debating the fate of trillions,"

"Are you really that selfish?" he spat and your eyes widened.

Selfish. You seized up at that word like it was poison and in a way it was. Selfish and Spider-Woman were antonyms. They fought constantly and neither ever won. Selfishness was a curse, a bane that wove itself into your skin until you dragged it out yourself. Pulling and pulling and pulling until you felt it kiss your underskin.

Selfish. Bile bubbled in your throat and your fingers tingled. He was lying. You knew this, you felt the truth sting at your skin, felt the pricks at the base of your neck and yet,

"Ok," you whispered. One word but Miguel didn't need you to repeat yourself.

“Ok," he drew out testedly, as if he was tasting his own victory.

"Then come on,” he gestured to something behind you; his expression still sorrow as if this was hard for him. “Bend over,”

“On your tippy toes and widen your legs,” God, he did not just say ‘tippy toes’.

‘Is that a part of the canon event too?’ you wanted to ask.

But to speak it meant to acknowledge what this really was. It meant that you couldn’t pretend that you ever had a choice. 

Yet, your tongue still burned with questions, with the why,why,why. A list of snarky, back handed comments laid at the tip of your tongue. You had so many questions to ask.

And childishly you couldn't help but think that maybe you could change his mind, maybe you could convince him that this wasn't worth it. If only you used the right set of words, the correct cadence, an inspiring lilt to your tongue.

But Miguel O’hara was terrifying and big and all the doors were closed and there was only one source of light and-

You turned around and bent over, on your tippy toes. 

Suddenly, a strong ache stretched from your legs and into your belly. Before eventually it twisted into your senses and made your head hurt and core heat up. Did your body know? Did it understand what was happening?

From behind you, Miguel's feet stayed stagnant, frozen in place. 

It was an reaction that gave you half a mind to stand back up cause what if this was a joke? A sick fucking joke and everyone was about to come out of the corners and laugh and tease you for again being the dumbest of the spidermen before what sounded like the largest exhale known to man bounced off the walls and Miguel was directly behind you. A large hand pressed onto your back, as if he thought you were gonna escape, as if you could. 

“One day you’ll thank me for this,” he whispered, while you ignored the way his breath went ragged, and the way his talons slowly spliced at the spandex of your suit.

Quickly, your cunt hit cold air and you shuddered violently. Miguel took another deep breath, his taloned fingers brushed against your cheek before gently, patiently he pulled the mask off your face. Your braids now splayed across the table.

"Now look forward, we're saving the world," then his suit completely dematerialized, and you widened your legs.

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #dark miguel ohara #miguel ohara x black reader #atsv x black reader #atsv x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #tw: noncon

[creekfiend]

I'm not Jewish, but my first easily-accessible exposure to Judaism and Jewish culture as like, a living community of people was through things like tumblr posts made by Jews. And yes, they were often queer/disabled/leftist Jews because a lot of the people I follow are queer, disabled, leftist etc.

It wasn't my first attempt at learning about Judaism but like... a lot of resources that aren't about pogroms and the Holocaust tend to assume that the reader is already familiar with Judaism. My knowledge about Judaism (that wasn't about antisemitism) from school was like "they only believe in the Old Testament, they don't eat pork, and they celebrate Passover and Hanukkah (and the stories behind those)" which I understand is technically correct but incredibly lacking. It's kinda like jumping from the most basic arithmetic to calculus, I guess (I don't really get calculus tbh).

I have been able to do more research and use less 'accessible' sources now, but it's because of those tumblr posts that I was able to understand those sources and know what lines of inquiry to pursue.

(Also it gave me the knowledge that by asking questions about Judaism I wasn't going to get aggressive conversion attempts, which was incredibly reassuring. My experiences with Christianity have been like, they lure you in with free cheese toasties and then try to get you to sign up for a baptism. I'm not exaggerating, this literally happened to me.)

Omg. The amount of gentiles who have told me that they wanna learn more about Judaism directly from jews but are afraid to talk to a rabbi bc they're worried it will lock them onto some kind of mandatory conversion pathway is extremely sad to me bc 1. WOW EVANGELISM IS SCARY and 2. talking to rabbis can be very fun depending on the rabbi and in my experience many are very delighted to get to explain stuff to people who are legitimately interested I mean lots of times being a rabbi is just being a nerd whose special interest is Jewish Stuff

ANYWAY

I'm glad you've been able to expand your knowledge in a way that makes you comfortable!

#✨️✨️✨️in my experience ✨️✨️✨️ #jewish #rabbis are teachers mot priests after all

[utilitycaster]

I love your thoughts on Astrid and I think a lot about whether her initial ambition to become powerful for the sake of power turned into the ambition for power so no one else has power over her. I truly do not think she begrudges Wulf his faith any more than she begrudges Caleb his new life though I would not be surprised if both are sources of some pain for her. (in a way the three of them remind me of trees. Caleb lost a part of himself but that allowed new sprouts to come forth. Wulf found faith that allowed the damage to be lessened by giving support to the damaged part of the tree. And Astrid is the one with neither who grows around the damage in the only direction she ever knew though it costs her much more in the long term than the other solutions)

Hi anon,

So I think I say this whenever I get similar asks - completely valid to have your own headcanons, but (and this is foreshadowing for the rest of this ask) I am not much of a people pleaser and I will openly disagree, as I'm about to, and this might be a conversation better had in DMs or replies or something because doing so via anon gets to be a lot of back and forth.

I really respect people who relate to Astrid as a survivor of abuse who finds some measure of peace and who simply acknowledges she, Eadwulf, and Caleb all found separate ways to move forward. I completely understand that can be very meaningful and would never take that interpretation from them.

With that said, I happen to personally prefer a view of Astrid who is capable of that bitterness. I like the possibility that she is not just ambitious (which, that on its own is often considered sufficient to lambast female characters; see the Suvi Kedberiket discourses surrounding Worlds Beyond Number) but also very angry, and at times bitter, and at times resentful.

I think a lot of fans struggle with the gray area between unambigously heroic women and unambiguously villainous ones, both because in that gray area is a complexity women in fiction are frequently denied, and also because it requires a look at specific emotions women aren't supposed to have. Women can be sad; they can be traumatized; and they've been granted such qualities as "determined" or "can use a sword" or "leaders" but I think people really still struggle with anger, and especially anger that is not specifically directed towards abusers (like Beau or Yasha or Vex) nor righteous (like Keyleth) but petty or even simply irrational.

I like Astrid as a woman who might hold a grudge she knows intellectually is unfair but who feels it anyway. I think about how she wanted to kill Trent in the moment, and that Fjord (someone whose story is very much about both forgiveness and the legitimacy of grudges and a desire for power) validates her for it even though it's true that Caleb's method of exposing Trent's crimes is probably more effective. I like her as someone who is incredibly intelligent and who probably has an idea of what the "good" thing to do is and still feels a lot of ugly feelings and possibly always will, even though she has found a much healthier way forward. I don't know quite how this interrogation will go, but it is interesting that she's in hiding in Zadash and has apparently not openly broken with the Assembly.

It's funny, because this is on some level what many people want for much of Bells Hells - they want them to be angry at the gods for neglecting them. It's just...they also want that anger to be righteous. And sometimes anger isn't. Anger is often petty and detrimental and yet still very real. What appeals to me about Astrid is that she is very much a complicated person who does straddle a line between ally and antagonist and is permitted a depth and messiness and moral ambiguity that many fans deliberately try to excise from women (and, for that matter, characters of color/in-world racialized characters and many queer characters). So I do like an Astrid who clearly cares for Caleb and for Eadwulf and does not treat them poorly, but does perhaps nurse some privately-held grudges.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #cr tag #i don't quite want to main tag this. but i kind of do #i haven't but i may rethink if it takes off

[meg-noel-art]

Queen Lucinda Edevane

Pretends my Discord ramblings make any sense and throws one of my OCs at you. LORE dump below:

Sort of a brief preface but imagine my universe is Avatar the Last Airbender if every Nation had an Avatar of Each Element. And there are no non-benders! Everyone can use some degree of said magic. And that they needed all said Avatars to work together to defeat the ultimate Evil Entity, because doing it alone/without Avatar powers have proved to be impossible for centuries. If anyone has played FFX it's very much the same concept of "there is a recurring darkness that we are stuck in a perpetual cycle trying to defeat bc the main characters haven't arrived yet" ---

So there are Avatars of Five Elements for my universe: Lighting/Storm(kinda broad but imagine like,,airbending/lightning bending combined) Water/Ice/Sea (Any liquid tbh) Earth/Nature (stone/earth/leaves/plants), Lunar (magic moonbeams babyyy), Solar (cast fireball) < -- the missing element is Solar, and it's been gone for hundreds of years, never choosing an 'Avatar' (ive been calling them 'Arbiters') and nobody knows where the source of the Element is to try and 'persuade' it to choose another "Host" (Enter Samantha Sinclair, but that's another part of the story)

SO ALL THAT SAID:

HERE is one of my Deuteragonists MOMS. She's part of the LONG line of magic users whose bloodline has always been chosen by the source of Lunar Magic. RE: There's always been a rich royal Lunar Magic 'Arbiter', for generations. It seems to be 'passed down' the line. Maybe they have a whole 'Choosing Ritual' (even tho that's not how the magic works, rich people be silly and privelaged).

So she is in what is the Royal Family of this world. While all the elemental nations have their own leadership, the Lunar Kingdom/Nation/Etc has the most powerful magic/and the family kind of rules everyone because of that. Targaryens vs other Houses ala Game of Thrones.

When she is young, Lucinda (that's her name) <- is SECOND in line to inherit the throne, should her brother (who is the Arbiter of Lunar magic at that time) die. WELL, turns out he does, meaning the Lunar Kingdom loses both it's Arbiter and it's heir in one fell swoop to a bad battle with the Ambiguous Evil Forces I haven't come up with yet.

So OOPS she's suddenly saddled with responsibility she wasn't supposed to have, which is in this world less of a "ok you're queen now go produce a male heir" and more of a "oh you're queen now, and ALSO you better make sure this Arbiter nonsense stays in our bloodline".

So that kinda sucks for her -- her consolation prize is being allowed to marry the captain of her Kingsgaurd (straight bodygaurd AU ooooOOOoo) the only problem is---he's a weak ass magic user. So her family is a little sus that any kids they have would have a chance to be chosen as the next Arbiter. But she INSISTS, it's the one good choice she gets to make for herself bc oops she happens to genuinely love this guy

Anyway their first kid (Elias) ISSSSSSSSSSS --- not chosen. Firstborn, next in line, not the Arbiter. Very embarrassing for everyone involved. So kid number two, one of my deuteragonists, Lucy -- is more of a 'necessity', rather than a 'want' from her parents. And it shows in the strain in their relationship. Lucinda (Mom) (Lucille, 'Lucy' is literally named to echo her ) regrets her own choice to marry for love because she feels like she fucked up - she also resents having to take on that responsibility in the first place, so her attitude toward Lucy (who luckily WAS chosen as the Lunar Arbiter) is very "I fucked up hard so you better not blow this for us ---"

anyway. Here she is looking grumpy. the end.

#if you read any of this thank you!! ;; #oc #original character #original character art #i am working bare bones here #would be fun to make this inkling of an idea a web comic someday #when i get it fleshed out #lucinda edevane #oc universe #my art #lore dump

[hexjulia]

reading more about atomic gardening and this is so much fun. to read about that is. it also seems fun to do, but. you know. anyway:

"The story of these citizen-pioneers of mutagenesis (the technical term for creating genetic change through the application of chemical, physical, and biological agents) is full of fantastic details, from Muriel Howorth’s propagandising ballet-mime, Isotopia, which involved a cast of Knowledge, Electron, Proton, Neutron, Rat, and Cow, as well as a working geiger counter, to Tennessee-based atomic entrepreneur C.J. Speas irradiating trays of seedlings into his backyard bunker.

IMAGE: C.J. Speas giving a tour of his radioactive bunker to high school students, photo by Grey Villet for Life, via Pruned.

Perhaps the most bizarre detail in the interview, however, is the news that these gamma gardens are still in operation, relatively unchanged in design since the 50s, in the grounds of national laboratories today. Their circular form, which, as Johnson notes, bears more than a passing resemblance to the atomic danger symbol, “was simply based upon the need to arrange the plants in concentric circles around the radiation source which stood like a totem in the center of the field.”

It was basically a slug of radioactive material within a pole; when workers needed to enter the field it was lowered below ground into a lead lined chamber. There were a series of fences and alarms to keep people from entering the field when the source was above ground. The amount of radiation received by the plants naturally varied according to how close they were to the pole. So usually a single variety would be arranged as a ‘wedge’ leading away from the pole, so that the effects of a range of radiation levels could be evaluated. Most of the plants close to the pole simply died. A little further away, they would be so genetically altered that they were riddled with tumors and other growth abnormalities. It was generally the rows where the plants ‘looked’ normal, but still had genetic alterations, that were of the most interest, that were ‘just right’ as far as mutation breeding was concerned!

Over at GOOD, Peter Smith recently described a similar layout at the still-active Institute of Radiation Breeding, in Hitachiohmiya, Japan, which has “has a 88.8 Terabecquerel Cobalt-60 source, ringed by a 3,608-foot radius Gamma field (the world’s largest), and a 28-foot high shield dike around the perimeter.”

IMAGE: A gamma garden at Brookhaven National Labs, New York, c. 1958; image provided by Paige Johnson, via Pruned.

IMAGE: Aerial view of the Institute of Radiation Breeding, Hitachiohmiya, Japan.

As it turns out, far from being a fantastic fossil from the future that never was, along with jetpacks and flying cars, atomic gardening is alive and well today. According to a 2007 New York Times story, which quotes Dr. Pierre Lagoda, head of plant breeding and genetics at the International Atomic Energy Agency, radiation breeding is actually experiencing a renaissance, due to the introduction of “new methods that speed up the identification of mutants.”

IMAGE: Mutant crop varieties mapped by The New York Times.

What’s more, the Times adds, nearly 2,000 gamma radiation-induced mutant crop varieties have been registered around the world, including Calrose 76, a dwarf varietal that accounts for about half the rice grown in California, and the popular Star Ruby and Rio Red grapefruits, whose deep colour is a mutation produced through radiation breeding in the 1970s. Similarly, Johnson tells Pruned that “most of the global production of mint oil,” with an annual market value estimated at $930 million, is extracted from the “wilt-resistant ‘Todd’s Mitcham’ cultivar, a product of thermal neutron irradiation.” She adds that “the exact nature of the genetic changes that cause it to be wilt-resistant remain unknown.”

IMAGE: “Pierre Lagoda, the head of plant breeding and genetics at the International Atomic Energy Agency, showing mutated plants at a greenhouse in Austria,” photo by Herwig Prammer for The New York Times."

#plants #i want to visit a gamma garden :(

[sailorspica]

dare i argue...

kenny has a very interesting, consistent morality that isn't all that aberrant compared to most of AoT's main cast.

he is our main source of ackerman lore, whose fallen status within the walls directly telegraphs the position of eldia in the larger world, so on closer inspection, kenny, levi, and mikasa are more than a bit analogous to grisha and the warriors. in kenny's case, i think most of the elder jaegers. hear me out:

my ongoing beef with the uprising arc anime adaptation includes this scene with kenny's grandfather. confoundingly, WIT cut significant length from grandpa's explanation about the ackermans' persecution at the hands of the MPs, but gave kenny a line that... is ghostwritten by zeke jaeger.

in the manga, kenny discouraged kuchel from carrying levi to term for reasons he doesn't verbalize (snk 65)

in the anime (aot 43), my subtitles say "I swear, ain't no point being born in a craphole world like this where there's not a single dream worth pursuing."

the dubbed line is "who'd want to be born into this piece of shit world anyway? there isn't a dream you could have worth suffering through it."

btw i think WIT giving kenny like, 5x more lines with the word "dream" is fucking cheesy and childish; i could see how this mindset is challenged immediately by carla in bystander, but does kenny have to be the one to say it? we get that from historia and alma and ymir already! plenty of characters express thoughts of regretting being born, but this and zeke's are particular to eldians and ackermans, not individuals

but what grandpa ackerman says about this "deal" between the ackerman patriarch and the crown echoes grisha and zeke's propaganda bedtime stories. the first generation born within the walls hoped that ignorance would spare future ackermans, and eldians left behind when the walls went up hoped compliance would save them from... paradise, conscription, what have you. historical omission and revision: neither fucking worked! that ackerman patriarch died pointlessly, every eldian sacrificed to marley's imperialism from foot soldiers in the trenches to the warriors and proto-warriors, ksaver's generation and older, died pointlessly.

much like the warriors, i don't think any of the above excuses or downplays kenny's wrongdoings, but contextualizes them:

he's a serial killer

as far as we know his Ripping was mostly MPs. as of this scene in ch. 65, the latest were lurking outside a dying old man's home, whether that means they monitored the eldest living ackerman closely, or they were there to jump kenny. point is, killing cops is uhhhhh cool. i don’t care he becomes one himself later. the old 2nd wave feminist adage of “the personal is political” applies to any gender, really, and we should all take police violence against vulnerable populations personally, so whether you frame kenny’s kill count before joining the MPs as self-defense or vengeance, there’s a net positive of fewer MPs terrorizing the streets of the interior and the underground.

he abandoned and/or abused levi

my guess is without his anime-only Zekeism™, kenny’s concern before levi's birth is more specific to kuchel’s circumstances, and also informs his abandonment:

raising a child would make kuchel’s life even more difficult;

the underground and moreover a brothel are no place to raise a child;

as his reaction to levi not knowing his last name goes, living as an ackerman is a curse unto itself (the zeke and ksaver conclusion), even if kenny’s relationship with uri has improved his circumstances;

my most charitable and extracanonical thought for this man is… i wonder what happened to his and kuchel’s own parents. how else do you lose track of your sister like this? did they feel abandoned themselves? did kenny already doubt kuchel would live long or be strong enough to protect a child (maternal mortality, which fellow MP nile dawk brings up in 108)? when he said “i’m not cut out to be some kid’s father,” did he also think that of kuchel? or did he think he also failed as an older brother—kenny and kuchel as grisha and faye...

we only get kenny’s POV of his time with levi, which lasts about five pages of chapter 69. my point is, levi whump revisionism tends to give him annie leonhart's canonical childhood, for which there is no evidence in chapter 69 or in bad boy.

of course, filling the blanks of kenny's pedagogy is grim, and popular fanon isn't unreasonable at all. there's no nonviolent way to teach violence, which kenny calls "the only tool he had" and likely thought of as the only thing he could offer levi. removing levi from the underground didn't seem to cross his mind, either, which could point to a pessimism that people kill people, above and below—the ackermans were wiped out on the surface, after all. but i actually find the understanding of their relationship to the royal family as feudal in the japanese sense helpful here: would bringing him along set levi's path for him, one in service to the reisses? cruel as it was, kenny guaranteed levi's freedom.

he's a cop

okay, this is where the manga gets a little ambiguous/inconsistent with chronology. when kenny gets the anti-personnel squad, he says he’s “never been part of the Military Police before”—he’s actually following levi’s footsteps here, a criminal recruit far outclassing these graduates of the cadet corps. however, to historia, he identifies himself as part of the first interior squad in 845. the fuck?

what is more certain is after he meets uri and becomes his bodyguard 😏, he joins this "assembly" or "council" of nobles and wallists. "bodyguard" does not sound like a role in which kenny would wander the walls doing extrajudicial murder like sannes. when levi and hange interrogate sannes, he proudly lists his own resume (snk 55), which includes killing armin’s parents, erwin’s father, and historia’s mother (the 2nd worst thing to be in the walls is blond), so besides alma, kenny doesn't seem to be included in these panels of the first interior squad "bloodying [their] hands" for peace within the walls.

i think a reasonable conclusion is kenny joined the first interior squad after uri's death in 842, and this squad is so elusive as to be legendary to the average MP. there is probably some translation subtlety with "squad" and "section, " so my understanding is the anti-personnel squad is either part of the first interior squad, or an elite, separate but affiliated group much like levi's special operations squad.

i think of kenny in these three years as unmoored much like iseyama describes levi after shiganshina; the main thing guiding him seems to be his disdain for rod reiss, since he has no hard feeling against frieda. dare i say... rod is kenuri's zeke?

besides his worry for kuchel and debatable care for levi, kenny does, actually, express some of the humanitarianism that motivates his nephew, also in chapter 65 and also excluded from the anime adaptation:

"how much WE lost in those five years?! how many precious lives?!" "he don't give two shits about any of it! not his his family, not humanity, and certainly not you, historia!!

like, HELLO? who is he referring to? the residents of wall maria? the culling that killed armin's grandfather? historia's half-siblings? hell—trost and stohess, mere months ago? i think he's being genuine! this isn't a token, empty phrase, tugging at historia's heartstrings. a killer can value life, i don't think that's that crazy a thing to propose, least of all in attack on titan and least of all in the uprising arc where levi squad kills other humans (also all cops).

kenny's narration in chapter 69 and episode 47 revolves around power. his respect for uri starts from acknowledging him as "the strongest guy around," which echoes over the moment he abandons levi—he's done his level best to teach levi to be the strongest underground, and his philosophy of proving yourself to be the strongest or most powerful doesn't belie a sense of superiority over the weak or any desire to rule; it's the logical conclusion of the oppressed. he thinks of himself as strong, but doesn't call kuchel weak, and his use of "we"—he counts himself part of humanity. his later ambition to steal the founder... makes him more similar to erwin. he just wants the knowledge, the view from up there.

but i think kenny is a little dishonest in chapter 58 before one of levi's coldest "yeah"'s of all time:

i'll kill anyone if that's what it takes to get the job done. ya kill too when it benefits ya, right?

for both men, this object "you" is not themselves as individuals, despite their posturing. it could really, really be humanity, for all three ackermans. mikasa, ten chapters prior:

there are only so many lives i can value, and i decided who those people were six years ago, so you shouldn't try to ask for my pity. because right now, i don't have time to spare, or room in my heart.

and her series-long journey is excavating her heart for humanity. the common fandom complaint that she "only cares about eren" is, to me, similarly reductive as their view of kenny. characters can lie to themselves, or reveal they're more selfless than they thought.

in conclusion:

ACAB

WIT skipped a lot of exposition to animate an extra kenny-levi fight that doesn't even make sense spatially

of course he sucks! and so do the younger ackermans! but they all suck a lot less than they think they do

kenny is also historia's uncle by marriage, in my heart

someone draw him and zeke hanging out

#kenny ackerman #ackerman clan #ackerman family #aot meta #snk meta #♃