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tirorah · 2 days

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PGSM (2003) Is a Story About Human Beings, and I LOVE It

Years ago, I attempted to watch the live-action Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon show, or PGSM for short. And I quit because it looked so silly I couldn't maintain my sense of disbelief.

I've learned not to judge a show by its looks since then. So, when I stumbled across a 20-second PGSM clip two weeks ago, I thought, "Shouldn't I give that another chance?" I'd heard a few interesting things about it, so I decided the answer was yes.

It took me a little while to adjust, sure. Some things still looked ridiculous to me. And yet, with every episode I became more and more emotionally invested. I started to see PGSM for what it truly was: an intricate tapestry of character-driven storytelling.

If you've read my other posts, you know I love characters more than anything. What I also love is an emphasis on narrative consequence and a willingness to explore new and/or interesting ideas, particularly when it's a new entry in an already-established franchise. And it just so happens that PGSM ticks all of these boxes!

In short, this show was made for me.

I'm not going to write about all of the clever things this show does because that would take far too many words. Here's my quick two cents: I think PGSM is excellent. It has flaws, and I think it only appeals to a certain type of viewer. But if you are that type of viewer, like I am, you're likely to be swept off your feet!

So yeah, I never thought I'd say this, but I love this show. It's by far the most fun I've ever had with Sailor Moon. And as is standard by now, I'm going to tell you why I feel that way under the cut.

First, I'll go over how PGSM manages to work at all. Then, I'll outline the theme; the central questions at the heart of the story. Finally, I'm going to illustrate just how well this show pulls off its primary goals---by examining the character arc of a certain old favourite of mine.

[FULL spoiler warning!]

[Word count: ~6,000]

New Kid on The Block

Ever since its inception, Sailor Moon has been an enduring presence in Japanese media and merchandising. Its presence has waxed and waned over the past decades, but it has nevertheless managed to remain incredibly successful. The original 90s manga spawned a concurrently running anime series, musicals, the Crystal anime series in the 2010s, and much more.

The fun effect of all these different versions is that each is its own thing. Even Crystal, which adheres much more closely to the manga than the 90s anime, is still different; a story can't be told the same way in every medium. This is why adaptations are difficult to do and are likely to piss off someone, regardless of intent or execution.

Smack-dab between the original and recent versions, a bold little beast emerged.

Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon aired from October 2003 to September 2004. Unlike the versions before and since, it's a live-action tokusatsu superhero TV series, like Super Sentai--a show the manga also drew inspiration from. This again marks a significant change when it comes to storytelling possibilities.

PGSM faces several challenges on top of that. It only exists because the musicals were so successful, yet it has a shoestring-looking budget that makes some aspects of the show look underwhelming. The lead actors were young and inexperienced, so it can take a bit for everything to click performance-wise. Lastly, the characters tend to have their faces in full view during action scenes, rendering the use of stunt doubles difficult and therefore limiting choreographic possibilities.

And yet, under the stewardship of writer Kobayashi Yasuko and a ton of passionate and experienced staff, this show found a way to stand shoulder to shoulder with beloved works of the franchise.

Let's examine how.

Limitations, Genre and Theme

If I'd given you a rundown of the obstacles PGSM faced without my glowing praise attached, you'd probably think this show was sent out to die. Maybe it was, I don't know. Perhaps someone at Toei thought it would hoover up some merchandise sales before it fell off a cliff to its pyrotechnic death!

The amazing thing about PGSM is that it takes these challenges and turns them into its greatest strengths. This is a show that understands the constraints it has to operate within. It can't compete on action and special effects, so it hones in on something it can execute well and bring a unique twist to: characters and story.

Its best claim to fame, at least in the little discussion I saw of it, is how it reworks its characters to serve a brand-new spin on a familiar narrative. But I believe this description to be...insufficient. The changes made here go beyond adjusting and emphasising personality traits. This is a paradigm shift; a top-to-bottom overhaul and a tribute to Sailor Moon all at once.

While there's still an overarching story that involves protecting the world from evil and salvaging a doomed romance from a previous life, the real meat of PGSM lies in the rich inner lives of its cast. This shifts the genre to character-driven drama with a dash of soap opera.

As a result, those aforementioned inner lives are established, built upon, and allowed to emerge and clash naturally. All the while, the characters contend with a turbulent new reality which further affects their interpersonal relationships. That in turn shifts the theme to something much more personal: past life versus current life.

What does it mean for your identity to be reborn with memories from a past life? What do you do when that past life has a stranglehold on your current one? Are you doomed to repeat the mistakes of ages past?

And what effect do these challenges have on a person's psyche?

PGSM spends its 49-episode runtime exploring these questions to the fullest. I consider it a true ensemble work, as every major character is relevant to the story and drives it forward at some point. And because each of them is unique, we're shown a full spectrum of viewpoints that are informed by personality traits and emotional baggage.

So, yeah, it's really good. Really damn good.

In fact, to demonstrate just how in-depth and detailed the characterisation is, I'm going to spend the rest of this post analysing my favourite example of a PGSM character arc: the understated and expertly-paced struggles of one Kino Makoto.

Wood and Thunder

A core part of Makoto in every version is her dual nature--possessing both traditionally masculine and feminine characteristics--and how this clashes with societal expectations. With her curly hair and long skirt, she comes across like a typical sukeban (a delinquent girl) of the time. Her imposing height, incredible strength and fighting skills confirm that image.

In truth, the sukeban resemblance is exactly that and nothing more; her hair is naturally curly and her new school doesn't have a uniform in her size. She only uses her strength to protect others. Notably, she has a romantic heart and yearns for a place to belong, perhaps even a person she can belong with.

Absolutely none of that matters to society. Through no fault of her own, people only see one side to her and assume the other doesn't exist. Prejudice and ostracisation follow.

You might think this would cause Makoto to be ashamed of her more masculine traits, but that's not the case. She might feel embarrassed by them at times, or attempt to play up her feminine side to compensate, sure. But in the end, she embraces all of these characteristics and doesn't think it's wrong to be this way. People just refuse to see the feminine side that's openly on display.

So, here we have a character with a compelling set of characteristics that can be utilised in different ways. The approach taken is something that differs per version. But like all things Sailor Moon, Makoto is a product of her time; the sukeban aspect is particularly dated.

As an early 2000s show, PGSM had a chance at a fresh start with this concept. Suffice it to say I was very interested to see how it would update Makoto to a new millennium and modify her without erasing her core traits. What I got was far more than I bargained for.

Makoto's PGSM debut gives us an effective overview of her as a person that hits many familiar beats. She protects Usagi, returns Usagi's friendliness with her own, develops a crush on a guy, and kicks ass both in and out of Senshi guise. She had her heart broken by her senpai at her previous school, but she also felt like something was urging her to come here. Now she knows why: she had comrades to meet.

This looks like a mix of Makoto's introduction in the manga and 90s anime, adapted to modern times. But all that familiarity is distracting you from something. There's actually a big deviation here, and you can see that before she even does anything.

Take a good look at this picture. Obviously the sukeban influence was removed from her design, but that's not the most important detail here. Hopefully you'll notice what I didn't:

There are no rose earrings.

Everything spirals out from there. The Makoto from the 90s was open about her femininity, but the Makoto we meet in PGSM barely shows her feminine side at all. In fact, she takes great pains to hide it.

This affects her character on a fundamental level. When she first appears, she comes across as unusually withdrawn and stoic. As is typical of the character, she swiftly opens up to Usagi and that seems to be the end of aloof Makoto. But that feminine side doesn't surface. She still dresses in unisex clothes that lean more toward masculine than feminine.

Likewise, her flat may have a few plants and a neat kitchen, but they don't take centre stage. There's a skateboard and a hat collection (my beloved!) that are displayed at the entrance. A logical location, but that also means it's the first thing you see when you enter.

So, what gives? Here's the thing: the characters in PGSM are emotionally complex. Much work and care went into characterising all of them. Because of this, the characters feel like real people. They argue, make mistakes, agonise over things... Not to say this isn't the case in other versions, but PGSM takes it further and really emphasises how vulnerable--how tragically human--these characters can be.

That's what is being tied into here. Being mistaken for a tomboy, despite being openly feminine, is an external issue. But for PGSM's Makoto, the conflict is internal. She doesn't want to be seen as feminine. When exposed or questioned, she denies it despite being a terrible liar. If the questioning continues, she actually uses her tomboy image to refute it.

She does this because her feminine side makes her vulnerable. This Makoto has been burned so many times that she's developed abandonment issues. She's one bad experience away from yet another cocktail of intense sadness and deep-seated anger. Sometimes a mere reminder is enough to get her down, too.

No one wants to feel like that. She's learned the hard way that opening herself up to others puts her at risk. That's why she prefers to play these darker feelings close to her chest.

To demonstrate all of this, her debut episode shows us exactly how bad it can get. It puts her through an especially cruel combination of deception, humiliation and rejection, no punches pulled.

It's at this moment that Makoto has had enough. Taking this risk was a mistake and it should never be repeated. She slams the gate to her wounded heart shut and locks it tight. The walls of her inner fortress become that much higher.

Learning to lower those walls and make another try for happiness is Makoto's character arc in PGSM.

This is why she was shifted so much toward the tomboy archetype. By giving Makoto an emotional incentive to deny a part of herself, PGSM gives her a believable, deeply personal obstacle that can take her the entire show to overcome. She now has to engage with her abandonment issues in order to become the more balanced person we know she can be.

Her powers as Sailor Jupiter also connect to this: there's the explosive power of lightning on one end and the soothing aura of nature on the other. Two distinct halves that each bring their own benefits. But Makoto's starting point is pure lightning.

Multiple times throughout the show, we're shown that nature is trying to communicate with her. But because she starts out as a lightning bolt, she doesn't understand it at all. This is another avenue for self-improvement, and PGSM understands that too; it explicitly ties the awakening of a Senshi's full powers to overcoming a core character flaw.

So, given all of that, how does PGSM build on the devastation she suffered during her debut episode and the emotional consequences left in its wake?

I'm happy to report it does nothing for 24 episodes. Yes, really.

For half of the runtime, Makoto acts as the support of the group; often present, but never centre stage. Sure, she develops a dynamic with each of her new friends, and she even begins to show some of her feminine aspects as that trust grows. The more she does this, the more her affinity with nature subtly increases; she begins to use non-lightning attacks and comes ever so slightly closer to understanding what the wind and trees attempt to tell her.

But when it comes to the story, Makoto doesn't drive most of the events that occur at this point. She becomes involved, or agrees to go along with something, but rare is the instance where something happens directly because of her actions. She contributes, but she's never in the driver's seat. She's the one who helps others become better versions of themselves.

She develops, but she doesn't grow.

This delay is 100% intentional. A Makoto who's only giving, only protecting, is completely fine. There are no lingering issues she needs to deal with because they've been swept under the rug, tucked away behind the walls of her fortress. For all she reveals of herself during this time, her abandonment issues might as well not exist.

This is PGSM's devotion to character-driven storytelling and narrative consequence on full display. As Makoto ignores her emotional baggage, PGSM is likewise content to misdirect you away from it.

Cycle of Fear

It's not until episode 31 that Motoki--the most endearing turtle nerd to have ever lived--unwittingly pokes at Makoto's defences. Up until that moment, she'd first considered him an acquaintance and later a supportive friend. In other words: a safe coexistence.

The moment she realises he has a crush on her, that safety disappears and all her thoroughly-buried insecurities rush to the forefront. Her old stoicism slams into place as the mask we now know it to be and she does her best to avoid eye contact. As brash as she usually is, she now struggles with all her might to seem detached and logical. She has to; the alternative is revealing how anxious this situation makes her. Although Usagi, Ami and Rei have earned her trust, showing that most vulnerable side of herself is still a bridge too far.

She drags herself to the date (probably because Usagi wouldn't let her worm her way out of it) and spends the entire time being awkward in spite of Motoki's oblivious excitement. It's clear that her heart isn't in it, but in typical Makoto fashion, she places the needs of the kind, sensitive Motoki above her own and does her best to let the date die a natural death.

Then, a sudden connection!

Makoto is stunned at first. No one has ever said that to her. As Motoki continues to extol her virtues--half of which are about how incredibly nice she is--she lights up! Aww!

...Only for her insecurities to take over again after an offhand mention of parents by Motoki, because PGSM is a story about fallible human beings. She immediately attempts to leave and is only stopped by a nosey Luna. It's impossible for Motoki not to notice something's off at this point. Keen for clarity, he decides to confess his feelings when they're not surrounded by other people. Makoto rejects him--by denying her femininity.

This is a direct result of Makoto's actions in the first half of the show. When she started to open up to her friends, she could've taken it further and started to navigate her issues. Her friends could've helped her. Instead, she chose to pretend that there was nothing to fix.

Now here she is. Avoidance--her first line of defence--has failed. Her second wall, rationalisation, has also been bypassed. Emotionally cornered, she falls back on the same defence mechanism she used at the start: denial wrapped up in irrational beliefs and low self-esteem.

"I'm really strong and get into fights. People are scared of me. That means I'm actually not feminine at all and what you saw was an anomaly. And because I'm not feminine, I'm not dating material."

By maintaining her tomboy image and denying her feminine attributes, this reasoning allows her to pre-emptively sabotage any blossoming relationship for herself. While this might bring relief in the short term, it's also the very thing that keeps her from happiness. Makoto is the Senshi of courage, but here she demonstrates how afraid she truly is.

Motoki seems to recognise this on some level. To him, Makoto is a strong, confident person. But she's also reserved in a way, and now that the emotional mess underneath is being dragged into the light, it's clear she's like that for a reason. He sees her for who she truly is and he likes what he sees, but she's not in a good enough place, mentally, to see that too. So he does the only thing he can do: he gives her space. He reassures her that she is feminine and then leaves her be.

"Why?"

This is the question that has plagued her for years. Uttered by a young Makoto and echoed by her present self, this representation of her thoughts comes up whenever loss or rejection hits. What matters here is the context: for once, it's Makoto who did the rejecting. She's in control.

So then, why does this still happen?

This is one of the uncommon moments where PGSM engages in subtlety. We don't get a definitive answer here. Makoto asks, "Why?" but we don't know what that refers to in this moment. We have to infer that ourselves.

My reading is as follows: "I rejected him before he could reject me. I removed him from my life before I could lose him. So why does it hurt? Why do I feel sad?"

During the subsequent fight against a powerful Youma, the other Senshi are held up and she ends up cornered and alone. It's an all too familiar scenario. She flashes back to all of the people she's lost.

Motoki shows up too, but he's almost impossible to make out.

At that very moment, the wind picks up around her. She lets out a breath in awe, gazing up at the swaying branches as the wind seems to communicate something. And then she awakens. Although she still summons a lightning attack, it's now taken on a green colour, signifying a new equilibrium.

When the others ask her what triggered it, Makoto naturally tells them the lesson of this episode: that she had to acknowledge her feminine side and truly open herself up to being loved--

--Wha...?

Yeah, you're seeing that right. Makoto just learned the wrong lesson.

Needless to say, I was flabbergasted by this outcome. Deep down, as much as she wants to refute it, Makoto needs companionship, people to belong with. It's a core aspect of her character! It makes no sense for her to gain power from solitude.

However... If you think about it, why wouldn't this be her takeaway? She was alone and she made sure to sabotage her relationship with Motoki before it could go anywhere, so this is the only logical explanation, right? Her powers awakened, so the narrative is proving her correct as well.

Except no, the narrative is simply adhering to the consequences of her actions. By coming to the wrong conclusion, Makoto has once again delayed her growth.

For the next 13 (!) episodes, Makoto seems to be okay again. She easily slips back into her role of casual, friendly and supportive friend. But something's changed: Usagi, Ami and Rei have glimpsed Makoto's scars, and they're not content to let her ignore them.

They attempt to challenge her new outlook, but Makoto's resolve is ironclad. Even when she's forced to reveal her secret identity to Motoki, she still reiterates her rejection of him. What's worse, she now she has an extra defence: her duties as a Senshi. Although Motoki still carries a torch for her, he resigns himself to supporting her as best he can.

Still, despite her determination in this matter, Makoto herself has changed as well. There's conflict and pain present whenever she's forced to acknowledge her decisions. And ever since the start of episode 31, she can't help but look sombre whenever something reminds her of her parents. Somehow, despite her best efforts to repair the holes in her walls, some cracks have remained.

All of this comes to a head when Makoto's character arc collides with Minako's.

Diminishing The Self

Ever since the girls found out they were reborn after their past lives ended in disaster, they've been grappling with PGSM's theme more and more. With their past swiftly squeezing the life out of their present, each of them is forced to form an opinion: How much do their past lives affect their present lives? How much should it affect them in the first place? And what do you do?

Here's our spectrum: On one extreme we have Rei, who's become resentful of her past life and rejects it completely. She asserts that she is her own person and that her past life shouldn't dictate who she is and how she acts now. Makoto's stance is adding fuel to that fire. When Minako counters her coup with one of her own, Rei is kicked out and decides to fight on separately.

At the other extreme stands Minako. Diagnosed with a terminal illness that she has almost no hope of curing, she's completely rejected her present life and is devoted to completing the mission from her past life. She won't be around for much longer and she's determined to save the world as much as possible before she dies. She asserts authority over the Senshi for the sake of the mission.

Usagi and Ami fall between these two polar opposites. Usagi is the reincarnation of the Moon Princess and is literally anchored to the past life through her Silver Crystal. She can't deny that her current existence has been heavily shaped by the past. But she's also determined to prevent a repeat of the past, even if it's the hardest thing she's ever done. She works hard at controlling her emotions and is convinced she and Mamoru will succeed.

Ami's current circumstances don't seem to be shaped as much by her past life, so she's the most neutral out of all of them. But as someone who was turned to evil and emerged a changed person, it's hard to deny: Their lives have been affected by the past and it's necessary to acknowledge that. What to do with that information is something she doesn't have the answer to. She fights alongside Minako and Makoto, but stays in touch with Rei.

Makoto has been firmly in the 'this mission is paramount' camp from the start, but not to the extreme that Minako is. You see, Minako almost always chooses to refer to them by their Senshi monikers. Makoto doesn't; she and her three friends always refer to each other by their present life names, even during battle. This is a conscious change that establishes their current identities as distinct from their past selves.

But remember, Makoto came here because she was meant to. She was meant to meet her comrades. She was destined to be alone, so she could listen to nature and let it lead her to her true purpose in life.

So when Minako tells her she's so devoted to the mission that she will cast aside her life to complete it, Makoto can't help but be stirred. Finally, with Minako's help, she realises that the truth is even simpler than she thought: She's always been alone because her current life isn't what truly matters. She exists to carry out her duties, regardless of the personal cost.

This is the final piece of the puzzle for both her and us. Her shift to a tomboy archetype, her character arc and the theme of the show all combine here.

For years, Makoto has been haunted by something: "Why?" Why was she left to suffer all alone? Why was she abandoned over and over?

Then this Senshi business comes along, and with it comes a duty and moniker from a past life. For Usagi, this upheaval of her identity is upsetting. But for Makoto, it's a comfort. Being a Senshi gives her purpose, stability and even friends. For someone who's sorely lacked all of that for years, this development is nothing short of a godsend.

And so, from the very beginning, she took this newfound 'destiny' and ran with it. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she crafted her entire outlook around that. Heartbroken and expelled from school? That was just another way to get her to where she needed to be. Her powers awaken while she's dwelling on how she always ends up alone? Obviously that isolation was also intended.

From there, it's a hop, skip and a jump to what she's doing in this scene: discarding her current identity in favour of her past one. She perfectly expresses this by (in the next episode) copying Minako's statement: she might die, but "Jupiter won't disappear". Kino Makoto is a shell to house Sailor Jupiter, and shells are expendable.

This is Makoto at her most extreme. She's always downplayed her own importance and achievements, and now here she is, downplaying her very existence. No individual, only the greater good.

It doesn't even matter that Minako lied to them about her identity, illness and powers. Makoto understands by this point that a secret can be kept for good reasons; she's done it herself. If anything, Minako's deception and her ensuing burdens feed Makoto's view of her as a martyr and a leader.

By choosing to follow that example, Makoto joins Minako on the very extreme of the thematic (past life versus current life) spectrum. In turn, Minako gains the staunchest of allies--but she fails to realise how thoroughly Makoto has just been primed for the pinnacle of martyrdom.

A powerful Youma attacks. When Makoto, Ami and Luna wound it, Metalia possesses it, scaling its power beyond that of the Senshi to overcome. Minako can't transform. Ami and Luna have been knocked out of their Senshi forms and can't fight anymore.

Metalia is about to win. They're going to fail.

Makoto decides to fulfil her purpose. She grabs hold of the Youma and overloads herself with lightning, creating an explosion that annihilates them both.

Minako calls out to the person--not the Senshi--in front of her.

True Courage

Makoto wakes up in a hotel room, wounded but alive, watched over by Minako. The Youma threw her off at the last second, saving both of their lives. Makoto only laments her failure; she doesn't even seem to care that she almost died. In fact, she outright states that she was meant to be alone so that her possible death wouldn't make anyone sad.

Minako has been horrified by this entire ordeal and that feeling only grows with every sentence Makoto utters. When Makoto explains she was fulfilling her past life's mission, it hits Minako like a ton of bricks: this is her doing. By influencing Makoto in this direction, she almost had Makoto's blood on her hands.

She tries to sway Makoto from a repeat attempt, but is taken aback when Makoto unintentionally throws every single one of her own arguments back in her face. When she claims that her own situation is different, Makoto looks her squarely in the eyes and says, "A life's a life. They're all the same."

Minako doesn't deny it. She can't. How could anyone refuse such a simple, factual statement when it comes from someone as forthright as Makoto?

It proves impossible to change Makoto's mind, so she changes tactics. Rather than challenge Makoto's standpoint directly, she questions one of its cornerstones instead. She does so by revealing that Makoto had muttered Motoki's name in her sleep. Perhaps, she posits, Makoto is more tied to the present than she believes herself to be.

This succeeds in shaking Makoto's beliefs. Minako leaves her to her thoughts, victorious in a way, but her own conviction was caught in the crossfire. While Rei's insistence opened the way, she was also easy to dig in her heels against. Makoto, on the other hand, has fundamentally disproven Minako's views by agreeing with her. In that suicide attack, she saw first-hand the logical endpoint of her own ideology. She's more than a little disturbed.

It's the opening Artemis needs, even though he doesn't know it's there. When he subsequently shows her how much joy and comfort her songs bring to others, she finally realises what she's been missing in herself. Her current life does have value, her achievements do matter, and she shouldn't dismiss them so flippantly. She should love herself, love the person she is now.

In the following battle, she awakens her full powers and transforms. The Senshi are finally united for good.

Now that Minako has admitted to herself that she also resents the past life for what it's done to her, Makoto has become the new extreme on the thematic spectrum. However, Minako's revelation is forcing her to reconcile conflicting truths. She awakened because she was alone. But if Motoki's still on her mind like that, if he's still part of her life like that, then she's not alone. If she's not alone, then her reasoning is intrinsically flawed.

When she sees Motoki in a Youma-induced coma, the question of "Why?" returns for the final time. And then she sees him, clearly this time.

In that moment, she realises all of her beliefs were wrong. She didn't reject Motoki, she lost him through self-sabotage. Foiling a possible relationship didn't work; he'd cracked her armour before then. Their connection was gradually built up over the entire show and came cocooned in comfortable friendship, the only type of connection she did allow.

When that connection touched her heart and stirred something more, that was when she unlocked her full potential. He cares about her, the real her, not the skewed facade she puts on. She's not alone anymore. When she told herself that she was alone and always had been, and the wind rustled the leaves, that was nature calling her out on her self-deception.

But why did that self-deception even occur? She didn't need to draw this conclusion from the start, did she? Unfortunately, she did. That's the final, heartbreaking part: Being a Senshi was the ultimate coping mechanism.

There's a reason this shot is repeated multiple times:

Makoto was constantly looking back at the past, looking for answers. Because her abandonment issues went unresolved, that question of "Why?" was burning a hole in her. She was desperate for a reason, any reason, so she could understand. If her hardship and loneliness were predetermined and in service to this all-important duty, then being a Senshi justified her suffering. She craved that more than anything. No wonder she transformed without even questioning it.

And hey, if that duty meant she had to avoid the type of relationship that terrified her most of all, well... That was a happy coincidence, wasn't it?

Fortunately, for all the trouble her uncompromising, black-and-white outlook has brought her, that same determination also allows her to accept this new truth in an instant. She screwed up big-time, but as long as she lives and breathes, she can work to set things right.

She strokes Motoki's hand and runs off to join the fray--not to throw herself at the enemy through all her lifetimes, but to protect those who are dear to her now. After the fight, she looks at the turtle-shaped charm Motoki bought her and smiles, allowing herself to dream of the future for the first time.

Minako passes away the next episode, but she does so with no regrets. Although grief follows, that final unifying moment, jump-started by Makoto, was enough. Ami, Rei and Makoto head off to the finale together, as a true team, never losing sight of what's important to them.

PGSM is exceedingly compelling to me, and the structure of this character arc exemplifies why. Makoto learns the wrong lesson three times: when she first becomes Sailor Jupiter, when she awakens her full power, and when she embraces Minako's ideology to an unhealthy degree.

Not only does PGSM allow her to miss the mark so spectacularly, it also gives her the time to deny and then address her irrational beliefs in a plausible manner. Moreover, because she and Minako drive each other to unlearn their internalised misconceptions, Makoto gives both Minako and the story one of the last pushes they need.

The last we see of Makoto's new and improved self, in relation to romance, is her final encounter with Motoki in the show. She shows him she's attached his cute turtle charm to her wallet, out there for everyone to see. Motoki treats it with cautious optimism, then relief. It's a deliberate signal: Makoto is open to new possibilities now. Maybe they can try again. They laugh a little, sharing their first comfortable moment together in this context.

Sadly, likely due to a few cut episodes, this is the last we see of them. Makoto's character arc is definitely complete, but because the ending shows the Senshi alone before they meet up with Usagi again, her relationship status with Motoki is left ambiguous.

But not to worry! Due to the success of the show's DVD sales during its runtime, both a special prequel and sequel act were produced! The sequel act is a 1-hour movie that shows us where everyone ended up four years later.

In that time, Makoto has undergone a significant transformation. In the show, her dreams for the future were never even mentioned. But here, we find out she's studying floral design, something that she's obviously passionate about. Reaching for happiness indeed.

On the wardrobe side, she still owns unisex clothes (you see this when she charges off to the action portion of the movie), but otherwise her femininity is on full display. A blouse, an embroidered shirt, even a bright yellow skirt, it's all there. Not to mention the stunning dress she wears at Usagi's wedding. And to symbolise how full-circle we've come, she's even wearing earrings!

Her flat has likewise seen major changes. The skateboard and my beloved hats have been moved to make way for what appears to be storage (a fulfilling life can result in extra possessions!) and a picture of something nature-y on the wall. And the room is now filled with plants!

All of these differences stack up. The flat looks...filled, for lack of a better term. It started out rather sparse in her debut episode, but back then she'd just moved in and probably hadn't finished unpacking yet. However, even after she gained more possessions, there were parts that felt like they had just a little bit of empty space to them. Now the entire space is lavishly furnished!

Speaking of which, there's a large stuffed turtle on her sofa, indicating she and Motoki have pursued their relationship and now live together. This is later confirmed when she takes Motoki's car--which she had the keys for--to save Usagi and Mamoru.

At the very end of the epilogue, Motoki clumsily but earnestly asks Makoto for her hand in marriage. And Makoto, overwhelmed and overjoyed, accepts. She's the only version of the character to have achieved this.

It's immensely satisfying seeing a character brought so low, only for them to soar higher than ever before. This Makoto has undergone an immense personal journey. There's no telling what kinds of challenges she might need to overcome in the years to come, but she's already climbed this mountain. Perhaps there's nothing she can't do. And no matter what, she'll always have someone at her side. She'll never be alone again.

I love it. I love all of it. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this is my favourite take on Makoto in the franchise. She's the best, and PGSM is the best for treating her with the nuance and maturity she deserves! Bravo!

---

That's the end of this post! It was meant to be way shorter, but I suppose that was an exercise in futility. If you made it all the way here, thank you very much!

I know I just said PGSM was the best. This is a subjective statement. PGSM is far and away my favourite incarnation of Sailor Moon, but I hold to what I said at the start: Every version is different, and I think that's great. We all enjoy media differently; the more people that can find a version of Sailor Moon befitting their preferences, the better.

It just so happens that PGSM was made for me! And hey, if you've never watched it before, or you dropped it like I first did, maybe it's worth another try. You never know, it might just be your thing too.

Like a certain person once sang:

~Just like predictable movies and books are boring When life is a little bit off, it might be more fun~

#pretty guardian sailor moon #pgsm #kino makoto #makoto kino

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istadris · 1 year

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Cybertronians vs Fabric: aesthetic extra

I recently tought about, that humans wore clothes AND armor for all of history, and how human warriors would be seen there in general. Since the whole obsession was partly started with implications of combat skill by not tearing it, that would make human armored forces of basically any era kinda impressive as far the skills go. Human forces are also trained to be able to work together in large groups/units smoothly vs the smaller hit-groups that usually are fielded by cybertronians, even in big numbers coordinated cooperation seems to only apply to these groups. Human units also seem more formal/professional/disciplined than cybertronians are, see for example basically any tf series, they seem much more casual to eachother than humans especially with their superiors.

More about the armors: Many are inticate af. Not only were they tailor-made to the owner, but they were also handmade, "body tight", but also often decorated and/or worn WITH cloth, often BOTH under AND over the armor. They were also practical for what they were used for, only going out of favour truly, when fielding such forces became too expensive, only becoming more popolar again recently.

Medieval knights, and eastern elite warriors would probably be a whole aesthetic to them tbh, as both wore impressive full suits of armor.

Medieval knights were trained from a young age, and as humans take more time to grow up, than a cybertronian to be forged, a human can be "naturally" molded into a really tanky unit. They are also fielded with live battle-experience by the time they get the title vs cybertronians fresh outta academy/school. Their armor often included (or were made out of depending era and unit) chain-mail. As in a FABRIC made out of METAL!!! Not only was it hand-made, but also the links had to be even, had to let the "fabric" be flexible enough to move in, but also be of good enough quality to protect effectively! Now THAT is a flex! Now add intricate jousting or elite combat armor into the mix, and oh lawd! Some of those had battle-scenes inlaid on the surface, or elegant LACE-looking details on some parts or both! Also worn with fabric of course, under and often over as well with warying number of additional fabric accessories.

In the east chinese, japanese, and many more kinds of elite armor were worn, with many fabrics as well. In fact there was a type of armor that was especially effective against arrows and blades, MADE out of layered SILK and paper! They were also much more ornate in general than western armor, as seen on the many beautiful silk paintings of them all around Asia.

+:If we look at (fictional of course) futures, the Astartes for example, then the rule of ornate armor+fabric rule still applies especially for the chaplains. I can link video examples if interested, also about irl discipline of soldiers, for example: marching etc..

Ps.: I keep humanposting bc humans and cybertronians BOTH simping on eachother is my lifeblood!!! And ppl barely post positives on the human side, so imma do. The fanboying being mutual sounds far more of an icebreaker for the two to get close, than randomly caring like *poof*, also more fun to play with too. Imma just be posting tf simping fuel for anyone interested (more topics too). ;)

***

@mochifrog-the-round-one I cannot express how much I love that a silly headcanon is slowly turning into historical discussions about the purpose and evolution of clothing through human history, as well as a comparison between human and transformers warfare and battlefield tactics.

And honestly I approve of your last point, I often joke about how all Transformers instinctively see humans they bond with as their pets/mascots (the way humans in any TF who bond with transformers instinctively think of them as "their" bots/cons), it makes sense that the fascination is mutual, and the monsterfucker in me is always interested by the "monster"'s POV on humans 😜

Fun fact, now with the latest Transformers we have :

Autobots and Decepticons established in Earth in a long-term goal and regularly interacting with humans

Cybertronian/humans hybrids raised by both species who have a specific approach of human situations

Last but not least : Optimus and Megatron being pals but having to "perform" regularly for their allies' morale (which neither of them enjoys but have to go through nonetheless). I'm just saying, if this kink is also a thing in this continuity, it definitely came up.

#submission #Transformers #bot clothing kink #truck mating rituals

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

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Underappreciated Screenshots | Part 2

Again, I have a healthy amount of screenshots of my phone to share. No, it's not an obsession, and I'm not literally running out of phone storage-space for this man, shut up, just shut up and feast ya eyes-

Part 1

Fuckin' Mondays, amirite?

Few dozen things turn me on in life, but this over-shoulder look, with that perfect half-profile shot in which you can see the full beauty, and potential, of that snozzer AND jawline is just- 👌

"It's just some CARD-STACKING, silly!"

If you told me 4 months ago I would have several HD screenshots of a cartoon man salivating to the point of it being ridiculous picturesque on my phone... seriously?

What is this?

Why does it look musuem-worthy in it's perfect detailing- it's literally a criminal overlord who can't wipe his mouth to save his life, and is about to go on a whole-ass temper-tantrum, it should NOT be this picturesque-

Also, Arcane Staff definitely had a saliva fetish. We all were thinking it. You know, deep down, I'm right.

S M U G G E S T OF MUGS

Fuckin' Mondays, amirite?

No, but in all honesty, this one does hurt, like he's still can't believe what just happened/is happening - pure shock, in complete survival-mode, giving the impression that Vander's betrayal truly came out of a left-field for him, or at least, to this savage, murderous extent.

Real talk, I think I have every young-Silco frame on my phone, and I could probably sit and overanalyze every single one, because...

It's all just so raw.

Tragic, yes, painful even, but so raw in it's expressions, in it's energy, and for it being the catalyst of so, so, so, so much to happen in present-canon, it's kinda The Flashback of the show, based on what the domino-effect it has on the entire series, and honestly, completely deserves all the attention in the world (and a prequel, Riot, give us a prequel.)

And young-Silco is always fascinating to see, and in-light, its interesting to see he's got a brown/orange and yellow color scheme, something I NEVER could picture him wearing when older. Idk, something interesting and also ouch.

Pah-tooie

Silco: [a sunny, radiant smile crosses his lips, possibly the first in years. The birds are chirping, the sky is clean, and he spent an entire afternoon with a charming little girl playing cards. It is, indeed, a lovely afternoon in Piltover.]

Marcus: [fUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU]

😠 He angy

The detailing of this scene is stunning, the fact that you can see every intricate detail of his shirt-cuffs, his pants-seams, his carpet... that's not even including the fascinating design of his eye-jabber machine, and how you get a full scope of it.

Still unsure how it works (if it's been confirmed, pls let me know, I just woke up and my brain is still zzz-ing) but whether it's meant to poke out the build-up of toxins in the eye or inject Shimmer directly into the nerves, GREAT up-close reference for y'all to take a look at.

Also [taps microphone, clears throat]

HANDS

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miqojak · 2 years

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15. Recommend us 5 books?

I'm gonna cheat and suggest book series where I can, lol.

1. The Fever series, by Karen Marie Moning. She began as a romance writer, but this series is a BALLER series about the Fae, and all that surrounds them. I didn't much care for the protag, McKayla, all that much at first - very barbie-girl who has everything, her life is a cake-walk and nothing ever goes wrong! She gets what she wants because she's pretty, not smart, etc. But like, holy shit the character development in this series is so good, on top of the stellar lore about the Fae, and the unflinching look at how the Seelie and Unseelie operate. There's ancient monsters, there's gods, there's fae, there's blood, there's even post-apocalyptic fae realm stuff later! This series really hits a lot of likes for me, and the romance bits are well done - talk about slow burn. There's also a LOT of found family in here. But, at times, it does get gritty and dark...it's Fae, after all, and the writer doesn't gloss over the horrible things they do. They're also an easy read, and the books are pretty short. (I promise you that the plot points that come to light at the climax of Mac's tale will be doozies you didn't see coming. So many twists and turns in this story!)

2. The Vampire Chronicles: Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, The Queen of the Damned

I have a long-standing love of vampires, and have a very high bar for what constitutes a good vampire story - Dracula, obviously, being the standard by which I judge most things (I felt it might be weird to suggest Dracula, but it's a good read once you're used to the dry writing style), since Dracula is sort of the traditional vampire, and all. Anne Rice might be a bag of mixed nuts, herself...but her vampires are amazing. And, if you're looking for queer media...well, these are some gay as hell vampires (mlm more often than not, but let's not forget about the bi/pan's out there). Lestat, obviously, is beloved by most who read it. He's a 'bad boy with a heart of gold'...usually. He's not afraid to challenge the status quo, and look fly as fuck while doing it - I mean, he makes his own vampire themed punk band at one point, what's not to love? But where Interview is about romance gone wrong, and the passing on of legacies, Lestat is...well, what 'he' says it is, in the beginning. It's about him. Queen of the Damned isn't as high on my list as the others (though the story of the first vampires is hella, and I'll gladly learn more about Lestat), and I've never read past it in her series, but if you read no others...read the first two...and I'll give Rice this, her writing is beautiful. There are times in which it has definitely sparked something in me, to see how beautifully she phrased things. 3. The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, by Leigh Bardugo

Okay, I know this new show may make the book suggestion seem silly, but wow the books blow the show out of the water! There's so much more to take in, and learn about the universe. There's so many things they gloss over or leave out in the show! The culture of the people in the story is so rich, but...delivered to the reader in a way that really makes it interesting, and not like a fantasy history lesson. The protagonist is, once again, someone I don't much like initially - she feels entitled and stubborn and foolish...because she is, at first. I once played a Pathfinder character like her - chosen by gods for a great deed, through no will of her own, thrust into danger at every turn with a power she didn't ask for...my character hated it, and resented the power and attention for a long time, but seeing this protag go through the arduous journey of having to grow up very fast as a young adult is just so well done, here. It's hard not to wonder 'why would she go along with this' until we realize that she is a naive, young woman who has no idea how to navigate magical politics. And let me tell you, those magical politics are rather intricate, and incredibly interesting. I love a unique magic system, and this one hits that sweet spot for me...especially with how in-depth the books are about it. And turning most fantasy on its head, this is set in a more fantasy-Russia type of setting...really shifting the expectations and cultural norms we're used to seeing in most fantasy. The villain is similarly used to great effect, and never too much - and when we finally do start to learn about him? It's hard not to see how he came to be how he is, and why he thinks he's in the right; almost all villains see themselves as the hero of their own story, after all. (There's also a little queer rep here, as well - think it's mostly wlw this time.) Well worth the read, and not a terribly long read, at that, these 3 books.

4. I was going to suggest The Stormlight Archive, by Brandon Sanderson, but I'm here to say: read anything by Brandon Sanderson, if you like magic/fantasy. I fucking love long books - and I fucking love fiction, and magic and unique magic systems. This world/universe has all of that, plus great characters with amazing character development and complex magic systems. While the Stormlight Archive is its own set of books on its own world, other series of his books are set in the same universe so they are all, technically, interconnected. They all have amazing fantasy stories with wildly unique magic systems that do, at their core...all kind of feel like they might maybe be stemming from something similar, despite their differences? There's a lot of 'give and take' with his systems, there's a lot of exploration of how the magic affects society, and religion. If you lack the time for a whole series, there's other stand alone books (that, guess what, still fall into that universe!), like The Emperor's Soul:

A heretic thief is the empire’s only hope in this fascinating tale that inhabits the same world as the popular novel, Elantris. Shai is a Forger, a foreigner who can flawlessly copy and re-create any item by rewriting its history with skillful magic. Condemned to death after trying to steal the emperor’s scepter, she is given one opportunity to save herself. Though her skill as a Forger is considered an abomination by her captors, Shai will attempt to create a new soul for the emperor, who is almost dead. Probing deeply into his life, she discovers Emperor Ashravan’s truest nature—and the opportunity to exploit it. Her only possible ally is one who is truly loyal to the emperor, but councilor Gaotona must overcome his prejudices to understand that Shai’s forgery is as much artistry as it is deception. Brimming with magic and political intrigue, this deftly woven fantasy delves into the essence of a living spirit.

Excuse me, who doesn't want to read that?? But my favorite stand alone of his is Warbreaker:

Warbreaker is the story of two sisters, who happen to be princesses, the God King one of them has to marry, the lesser god who doesn't like his job, and the immortal who's still trying to undo the mistakes he made hundreds of years ago. Their world is one in which those who die in glory return as gods to live confined to a pantheon in Hallandren's capital city and where a power known as BioChromatic magic is based on an essence known as breath that can only be collected one unit at a time from individual people. By using breath and drawing upon the color in everyday objects, all manner of miracles and mischief can be accomplished. It will take considerable quantities of each to resolve all the challenges facing Vivenna and Siri, princesses of Idris; Susebron the God King; Lightsong, reluctant god of bravery, and mysterious Vasher, the Warbreaker.

It's hard to put my finger on why I like this one so much - hell, I have always wished he'd write more stuff for this world and its magic! But the characters are all so different and unique and really grow throughout the story, and once again you see a lot of magic and politics and how it all connects with religion surrounding that world's magic, and how not only the powerful, but the weak, survive in this sort of world. The characters, the magic system, the setting...this story fits neatly into its own stand alone book, and feels good to finish.

HOWEVER, and I'll make these my last recommendations, as I grow long-winded - if you lack time for even ONE book, read some of his novellas! Here's two I own, and thoroughly enjoyed (both with very different kinds of settings and interactions...and fun magic): Perfect State, and Sixth of the Dusk (I feel like the culture in Sixth could be neat Viera inspiration? I might re-read it, myself.).

Perfect State:

God-Emperor Kairominas is lord of all he surveys. He has defeated all foes, has united the entire world beneath his rule, and has mastered the arcane arts. He spends his time sparring with his nemesis, who keeps trying to invade Kai's world. Except for today. Today, Kai has to go on a date. Forces have conspired to require him to meet with his equal—a woman from another world who has achieved just as much as he has. What happens when the most important man in the world is forced to have dinner with the most important woman in the world?

Sixth of the Dusk:

Sixth of the Dusk, set in a never-before-seen world, showcases a society on the brink of technological change. On the deadly island of Patji, where birds grant people magical talents and predators can sense the thoughts of their prey, a solitary trapper discovers that the island is not the only thing out to kill him. When he begins to see his own corpse at every turn, does this spell danger for his entire culture?

It's taken me a while to do this because I wasn't sure...and then I word vomited, so pardon that. I am very passionate about Brandon Sanderson's work, and while he can get lengthy in his Stormlight Archive books, if thick fantasy tomes aren't for you...well, a lot of his other work is equally as good, and more concise in the delivery. But when I dig into a story? It's nice for me to know there's two thousand more pages of the good stuff coming my way.

#thanks for asking!#long post #book recommendations #I love fantasy #I love fae #I love slow burn #I love complicated magic systems #realistic cultures set in fantasy worlds are so good #how WOULD magic affect society and religion and politics?#It's such a neat thought exercise #books

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

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Reader’s Corner: Carole & Tuesday, Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol, and The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya

Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol (Rascal, Vol. 4)

My most consistent complaint about the Rascal series, which I otherwise find charming, is that the stories are too full of contrivances. with plots points and character actions often making little sense. Though these developments are often small, such as an explanation that the sisters at the center of this volume aren’t apologizing to each other after a fight because neither would accept such apologies, when that hardly seems true, the way they impact character development and the plot by changing both for the sake of reaching certain resolutions and mile markers in the text, rather than letting the characters and their situations play out naturally, is frequent and significant. The same issue continues, though thankfully at a lesser extent, with Siscon, the fourth volume of the Rascal series, which introduces Mai’s half-sister, Nodoka, an idol in her own right but one far less famous than her actress sister. Both are impacted by Adolescent Syndrome in this volume, switching bodies and being forced to act as one another in different realms and levels of show business. The dialogue between Sakuta and Nadoka is almost as delightful as between him and Mai, and features frequently throughout the text in this fun and warm read which continues the series’ delightful balance between playful adolescence and development of authentic relationships between characters, in whom I’m now fully invested. ~ Twwk

Rascal Does Not Dream of Siscon Idol is published by Yen Press.*

Yokohama Station SF

Not every robot overlord is like Skynet, intent on killing all humanity, with android enforcers that are nigh impossible to kill. Sometimes, the enforcers are turnstiles that not only keep the ticketless out of the station but eject rules violaters to unoccupied spaces to meet their deaths by starvation, and sometimes the master computer is just railroad infrastructure consuming the entire island of Honshu via slow, automated urban renewal. This unique and immensely absorbing post-apocalyptic novel begins long after the “Winter War” devastated Earth, and Yokohama Station, a concrete and metal structure growing seemingly without end, has covered almost all of Honshu and threatens the neighboring islands. Hiroto, lives on a sliver of land just outside the behemoth structure on a tiny beach community until an “Insider,” ejected from within the station, gives him a chance to explore the vast unit for five days, also charging him with finding a resistance leader, while he brings in a personal quest of his own. From the description, you may sense both Terminator and Ready Player One vibes, though its more similar in tone and eventually story to the latter, though cutting out that work’s affection for nerd culture and replacing it with efficient writing. Yokohama Station SF features a clever and well-crafted but familiar world, interesting artificial intelligence units—always a plus for me—and believable science fiction, having been written by an actual scientist, Yuba Isukari. Yokohama Station SF is his first novel, and as a compelling piece of sci-fi with anime sensibilities, it is a significant achievement. Paraphrasing another overlord of a sci-fi franchise, I shall be watching Mr. Isukari’s career with great interest. ~ Twwk

Yokohama Station SF is published by Yen Press.*

Love of Kill, Vol. 1

The quiet, beautiful Chateau Dankworth is a bounty hunter, working for an organization that contracts with mafia families to eliminate targets. Ryan-Ha Song is also an assassin, but an especially notorious one, skilled and feared for his prowess. When these two become entangled, it’s not in a deathmatch—it’s because the enigmatic Song wants to date Chateau! Volume one of Love of Kill features plenty of action and establishes the deadly world in which the protagonists work, but otherwise gives very little information about the two. Structurally and thematically, the opening volume is engaging, functioning through leaps back and forth in time and filled with grisly episodes of violence. It’s quite jarring, most particularly when the volume mixes in a romantic interlude between the leads that feels as awkward to readers as it does to Chateau, and for the same reason: Song appears to be entirely psychotic. That also makes it hard to root for the killer, while younger assassin displays so little personality that she’s also difficult to care for. With such coldness, it’s hard to imagine why this manga, which in its initial version was published through the Japanese art site, Pixiv, necessitated a fuller release. Perhaps future volumes will reveal that answer, but for now, the tale of Pixiv to published is the most engaging part of this manga. ~ Twwk

Love of Kill is published by Yen Press.*

Eniale & Dewiela, Vol. 2

This second volume of this very silly series continues within the same framework of gags from volume one. In one story, Eniale causes havoc to the world by using supernatural noises to create sonar in an attempt to find Dewiela’s earring, which she’s lost. This humorous storyline and other chapters also provide a view into the interesting cosmos of this version of the world. While Eniale and Dewiela represent the Lord and Satan, respectively, from a Christian framework, this world setting has other deities and belief structures both existing and being true concurrently. Eniale and Dewiela are trying to reap souls for their respective afterlife locales, while local deities they encounter are pushing back, saying that the local souls belong to them. The duo face especially harsh pusbback by local deities when they enter Japan. The most interesting story comes from the tale of a Catholic priest who, according to Heaven, may become an angel one day to battle during Armageddon. However, something changed in his life and Eniale is sent to investigate. This bittersweet tale ends, as usual, on a gag, reflecting how fun this series is overall, even if it’s theology is just wildly inconsistent. ~ MDMRN

Eniale & Dewiela Vol. 2 is published by Yen Press.*

Carole & Tuesday Vol. 2

Volume two of Carole & Tuesday has the titular girls experiencing new challenges on their way to recognition and success in the music business, but it opens with a focus on a third girl. Angela, a child prodigy famous for modeling, wants to try something different and to become a singer. The manga shares some of her backstory and how she teams up with Tao, a man of mystery who creates popular songs using A.I. He riles up Angela throughout the manga, pushing her (rudely) to try harder. Meanwhile, Carole and Tuesday are try to get DJ Ertegun to listen to their song, which he refuses. Later, they struggle to find harmony on a new song, and take a little break outside on their own, considering their journey up to that point. When they return to their apartment, their slovenly manager, Gus, convinces them to enter the Mars Brightest competition. It’s like American Idol, but on Mars! Angela also enters in the test that will show how skilled these three girls really are as singers. I’ve seen the anime so I knew what to expect, but the manga still entertained me, particularly with its fantastic artwork. The panels pop out and feature intricate detail, connecting more with the characters through the facial expressions, dialogue, and the challenges they face. ~ Samuru

Carole & Tuesday Vol. 2 is published by Yen Press.

The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya (Haruhi Suzumiya, Vol. 5)

Having watched the episodes, but never having read the novel from which they were adapted, I expected the “Endless Eight” story to be much like the anime version: repetitive, dull, and overly long. It is in fact none of these things, taking up just 1/4 of The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya, the fifth light novel in the Haruhi Suzumiya series. While I still admire KyoAni’s decision to spend eight episodes on almost identical material to reflect the time loop aspect of the story (this despite the disastrous reaction it received), the much shorter chapter in Rampage doesn’t need the repetition to convey the peril and anxiety of the situation. It’s an excellent story, joining the funnier material in “The Day of Sagittarius” and “Snowy Mountain Syndrome,” the longest story in the series so far, which initially feels like material already covered but in a winter setting, though it later reveals itself to be a story that not only reminds us of how Nagaru Tanigawa excels as a science fiction writer, introducing further elements of the genre into his work, but also one that conveys serious heart. The last story provides another one of Haruhi’s sincere explanations of her behavior to Kyon and heavily features character development of Nagato, as subtle as it is, which is equal parts uplifting and mysterious. ~ Twwk

The Rampage of Haruhi Suzumiya is published by Yen Press.*

Maison Ikkoku Collector’s Edition, Vol. 3

Some forty years after it was first published, these chapters from volume three of Maison Ikkokku Collector’s Edition show precisely why this romantic comedy is so beloved, displaying the full retinue of humor and charm that are pervasive throughout the series. This volume continues to demonstrate Rumiko Takahashi’s talent at using misunderstandings to develop strong comedic content, which then gives way to reveal her character’s personalities and hearts. With Godai now knowing Kyoko quite well, but still miserably immature in his outlook on romance, he struggles to “make the leap” into a relationship with her, but each chapter shows that despite the obstacles that get in their way—some significant and others more figmental—the two are more and more making connections between their hearts. And as laugh out loud funny as many of the panels are, it’s these moments of caring, which increasingly find their way into the lives of Godai, Kyoko, and the rest of the Maison Ikkoku residents, that make the series memorable, driving it closer and closer toward fulfillment while keeping us just far enough away to crank the angst up to 11. ~ Twwk

Maison Ikkoku Collector’s Edition is published by Viz.*

The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat, Vol. 1

The world’s best assassin has run out of time—or has he? On the verge of retirement, he is tricked and killed during his last mission. But upon his death, the assassin appears before a goddess (what a surprise!) who needs him to do her a favor: Kill the hero of the world she’s in charge of before the hero causes trouble in the future for her and the world he is in. She chose the assassin because of his skill and allows him to be reborn whilst choosing his own skills. Much like Rudeus in Mushoku Tensei, this protagonist is reborn literally, as a baby, but retains his previous memories. As he grows up among a wealthy family of assassins in a world of magic and knights, he trains to become better and to prepare to face the hero. Along the way, he meets a girl named Dai who becomes his magic teacher and Tarte, whom he rescues from poverty (she eventually becomes his assistant/servant of sorts). Although it’s rather rushed and features fanservice moments I felt were unnecessary, I enjoyed volume one. It’s a good selection for fans of isekai, though not without some flaws. ~ Samuru

The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat Vol 1. is published by Yen Press.

=====

Reader’s Corner is our way of embracing the wonderful world of manga, light novels, and visual novels, creative works intimately related to anime but with a magic all their own. Each week, our writers provide their thoughts on the works their reading—both those recently released as we keep you informed of newly published works and older titles that you might find as magical (or in some cases, reprehensible) as we do.

*Thank you to Yen Press and Viz Media for providing review copies.

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cheese-ception · 3 years

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Tactus

Here I come again, with my obnoxious obsession with Latin. Tactus means touch.

Sometimes a little goes a long way, especially when it comes to fluff. Please enjoy this extremely self-indulgent reader insert, my sweet peas ♡

pairing: Leviathan (Obey Me!) x reader warnings: none word count: 1940 beta-tested on my darling @masamune-archive ♡ special tag: @tsubaki3192 ♡

The room is dark, save for the lights coming out of a set of several monitors and the ever-present bioluminescence emitted by the various fish and corals in the giant tank lining the walls.

Stretching languidly, you let out a groan, back stiff from hours of sitting still, blinking away your tiredness. Your little break is almost over and you jump in your chair, the sound of the door opening giving you a little scare, before calm settles over you again upon realising it's just Levi returning from his bathroom trip.

You watch him as he does his little ritual of wiping his hands with a sanitizer, despite only just having washed them, and you smile. He is very particular with his quirks and you find it endearing.

You decide not to tell him though. After all, it's awkward enough between the two of you at times, even without him knowing.

He slinks into his seat, un-muting his headset to announce his return to the rest of the party and you follow suit, eager to get the second half of the raid started. You have always looked forward to the gaming part of your meetings the most, as it has given you something to bridge the space between the two of you. It has connected you on an almost unnervingly natural level, ever since you decided you had enough of being called a normie and invited him to a duel between your avatars in Mononoke Land. You still remember his sulky expression after you wiped the floor with him. The surprise in his face, eyebrows shooting upwards and pupils narrowing to mere dots. The way he nearly threw his controller against the wall in a moment of sheer jealousy overtaking him upon his defeat.

He was very cross with you that night, but you were glad.

Something's changed between you then and he no longer called you silly nicknames, no longer doubted you whenever you expressed interest in a new game coming out or a series to watch.

It took some time, but eventually he seemed to let down most of his walls around you, treating you like his equal in your shared passion over gaming and inviting you to play on his computer instead of being stuck with your somewhat outdated model.

He insisted it was because 'if you lagged it would slow him down and he did not want to have to carry you through the content', but the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth betrayed him and you knew he actually wanted to spend time together, without the screens separating you.

At least you wanted to believe it, since he obviously never said so himself.

You snap out of your reverie after some time, a smile still on your lips, to find Levi peering into your face.

Your character is laying dead on the floor and you fully expect to be scolded for not paying attention, till you realised everyone else has wiped too and Leviathan's expression seems to reflect worry rather than displeasure.

He is almost unsettlingly close and you hold your breath, colour rising into your cheeks at his sudden proximity. Swallowing audibly, you break the spell and he realises what has been happening, leaning back into his chair so quickly that his head bounces off of the little neck support pillow, causing him to utter a curse in a language you do not understand.

Muffling a laugh, you squeak awkwardly, dismantling the last of your dignity, shrinking into yourself, no longer caring about the game. You watch on as Leviathan's fingers fly over the keyboard in what seems like an intricate dance, typing in strings of letters that are too small for you to see from your spot.

With a click, he powers down his headphones, sliding them off to his neck, where they rest, quiet, in lieu of a necklace. He has no need for jewellery and it is so very like him to be ready to immerse himself in music or voice chat at any given time, so having them ready really is a no-brainer.

You want to chuckle at it, suppressing your voice once more, not planning to tease him about it, not wanting him to know that you found that to be cute as well.

He reaches over to your side of the desk, closing the programs running with a practised precision and you watch him, silent apprehension building up inside you when he scoots a little closer to remove your headset for you.

He seems almost hesitant and overly careful, making sure he does not touch you directly, hands shaking slightly while he tends to the process of getting you fully off-line, making no sound, save for the rustle of his clothes and the soft clicks of the items against the surface of his desk.

You wonder what has gotten into him and decide to help, reaching for the mouse to put it back into its charging station.

Your outstretched hand almost grasps at the peripheral, ready to lift it from the table, but you realise all too late that Levi seemed to have the same idea. You knuckles brush against a warm surface and you freeze, realising it is the back of his hand, already on the device you were reaching for.

He lets out a panicked gasp and you both withdraw, your fingers stroking against him in your hasty retreat, causing him to sigh.

Thankful for the dimness of your surroundings, you fling yourself backwards, cheeks aflame and heart racing.

You knew he didn't like to be touched by others, but the feeling of his skin against yours was too exhilarating to dismiss the butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

Unsure if you could meet his gaze, you let yours dart away and you wring your arms in front of yourself like a child caught in the middle of being naughty.

Silence stretches on and you brave to cast a glance at him after all, curiosity taking the best of you at last.

He stands unmoving, hand still on the desk, supporting his lean frame against it in the same position as when you touched. He resembles a marble statue, so still and so beautiful.

You choke your voice, just in time to restrain the praise that sits at the back of your mind.

There is no denying it, you love him. For all that he is, his bashfulness and embarrassment alike with the way his whole face lit up when he was showering you with details about his little obsessions, the delicate way with which he traced the spines of the countless volumes of manga filling the shelves of his room, how he always seemed taken aback by your interest in the things he liked, how his sunset-like eyes shone when he was happy. You are smitten, but you do not want to cross any boundaries, don't want to ruin the friendship you worked so hard and so long to build. He means too much to you to selfishly walk all over it just to fulfil your likely one-sided wishes.

After a solid couple of minutes of absolute stillness, Leviathan clears his throat, carding his digits through his hair as he speaks, voice so soft it nearly breaks you.

'I... I'm sorry, I did not mean to...' he stammers and your heart lurches to your throat, moved by the fact that he is the one to apologize, even though he has no real reason to.

He turns to face you, leaning against the edge of the desk in what looks like an attempt at an easygoing pose, though you can sense the discomfort he is in, watching as his fingers dig into the semi-discarded mousepad.

'I am sure you wouldn't want someone like me touching you, I was just trying to help because you seemed a little out of it. Forgive me.'

You rise from your chair to level with him, taking a small step forward to cut down some of the distance between you, not too close but hoping to offer some comfort by not turning away, knowing he likely expected you to do so.

His face is dusted by an intense blush, spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and disappearing under the collar of his hoodie. He is a sight to behold, long lashes peeking underneath a thick fringe of silky hair, head tilted slightly to the side, awaiting your reaction with a bated breath, chewing on his lower lip nervously.

'There's nothing to forgive, silly. I did not mind in the slightest,' you utter, words leaving you so suddenly that you clasp your hands over your mouth, cursing yourself for sounding so direct instead of easing him in.

'What?' he retorts, the pitch of his voice a little higher than normal, his blush somehow still growing in intensity.

You blink rapidly, covering the rest of your face, no longer able to look at him, stiffness stilling your legs before you take another step closer.

'I said I did not mind. Your touch, that is. It was nice, actually.'

Your voice comes out hoarse and so quiet that he has to convince himself he did not just imagine it while he shifts against the desk, the whole setup creaking slightly under his weight.

'Can you... say that again, I think I misheard?' he inquires, taking time to spell out each of the words with obvious disbelief.

You repeat again, a sliver of confidence seeping into your words, lending them some of the strength they were lacking before.

He stares at you, stunned, irises dilated and the air around him shivering with his aura and you wonder if you perhaps upset him after all, all too aware that his form shifts when he experiences strong emotions.

His eyes gleam in the darkness, a possessive glint bringing out their colour and you take in the sight, seeing him change into his demonic form, scales sprouting over his neck, coral-like horns adorning his head in intricate curves, his tail swaying around him before wrapping around one of his legs.

You half-expect him to pounce at you and punish you for your insolence, but his actions are staggeringly gentle and he extends his hand to you timidly, trying his best not to shy away.

'T..then do you maybe want to do it again? I also, uh... Didn't mind!' he stutters, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck, so darling and fragile, despite his altered appearance.

Time seems to move in slow motion as you nod, taking his hand in yours as if it was the most holy of all artefacts, gently sliding your fingers between his, pulling it closer to you. He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, his tail coiling around your waist in a gentle embrace and you feel him squeeze your hand softly, his digits warm against yours.

Taking the final step towards him, you snuggle against his chest, inhaling his scent. He smells like the ocean and the soda you both drank before and it's the sweetest, most soothing thing you have ever experienced.

You feel him rest his chin against the top of your head and exhale, relaxing against you carefully, not letting go of your hand for a single moment, afraid that you might. He hardly needs to worry about that though, because it's the last thing on your mind. There's no other place you would rather be than with him and you make it your quest to make him realise it, no matter how long that may take.

________ Masterlist

#obey me!#Obey Me Levi #obey me leviathan #obey me! leviathan #leviathan fanfiction #levi fanfiction #obey me levi fanfic #obey me levi x reader #leviathan fluff #he is so adorkable #and I love him very much #tho it's pretty obvious I should think

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emiewritesthings · 4 years

Text

little miss cupid - jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n tries to introduce jay to the world of online dating.

requested?: nope (but requests are open :))

warnings: unedited, gif not mine

masterlist

“okay, now we need to pick some pictures for your profile.” y/n was sure that jay had stopped listening ages ago, but the man besides her had not moved from his position looking over her shoulder. his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

strangely, this wasn’t unusual for a friday night. at least for them anyways.

it wasn’t a secret that y/n was known as the cupid in her friendship group. she had been the one to introduce mouch to trudy, the one to track down donna when boden had expressed interest in the teacher and she had been the one to nudge kim and adam to pursue their relationship (not one she bragged about considering the way they had ended not so long ago).

but the one person she couldn’t crack happened to be her best friend. ever since they had met 11 years ago, y/n could only recall jay ever having one real girlfriend. even that had ended after a couple of months due to the two having a row about jay not giving her enough attention.

y/n had tried setting him up with old friends, new friends, even people she had gone to the academy with. but it was no use, jay always found an excuse not to go or why they ‘weren’t the one’. beginning to doubt her own cupid-like abilities, she had resorted to the pat possible option besides from him being alone forever: online dating.

“okay what we working with here, big boy?” y/n’s finger was steady as she scrolled through his photo library. smiling briefly at how the majority of his photos were of the pair. whether they were silly pictures she had taken whilst they were in the way to a crime scene, or snaps of nights they’d spent watching classics, or even drunk pictures that y/n had hoped never to see again.

“what about that one?” jay pointed towards the corner picture, drawing y/n’s attention to the man. she took in the way his eyes had lightened a whole three shades, but his eyes were not on the phone, instead they were studying each intricate detail of her face.

he loved the way part of her eyebrow missed a few strands of hair due to a small scar based on a work injury. he loved the way her lips were a bright shade of pink due to the way she would bit her bottom lip while concentrating. he loved her.

“jay you can’t use that one, i’m in it.” y/n giggled, the picture had been taken on jay’s birthday a couple of months back. unlike his normal attire, he was dressed out in a nice shirt that he only brought out for special events and occasions. his arms held the woman that was perched upon his lap, arms around his neck as she smiled widely.

“why not? you look beautiful.” jay argued back, making a blush appear on the cheeks of them both. a strange sensation filling her stomach and spreading warmth through her veins.

“uh-thank you.” eyes wide, jay seemed to realise his slip up. bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck, y/n had half expected for him to release her from their close proximity, but neither of them dared breaking contact. “-but your future girlfriend doesn’t want to see you holding some other woman, they want to see you shirtless, or you with a puppy. something that speaks for itself about what you are like, you know?”

the look of thought covered his face for no more than a second, his finger slowly tracing down her arm calmly. y/n tried not to melt into his touch, not knowing why she felt so vulnerable, so weak.

"well this photo tells them about the woman i love the most.”

it wasn’t that y/n didn’t know this. jay was the most important man in her life. he was the only one that had always been there since the age of just 17. she was not sure if it was possible to care more about a person than the affection she shared for jay. yet hearing it out loud felt euphoric.

“i think i am beginning to see why you are so single.” the pair laughed along, as y/n took the initiative to take over creating the man’s profile. jay had switched his attention over to the netflix series they had been watching, yet his thoughts circulated around his girl.

a little over an hour went by, before y/n handed jay his phone back. a proud smile on her face, as she leant her chin against his chest, watching his reaction to what she considered a masterpiece. jay’s eyebrows raised in surprise, as his thumb ran over the screen studying her work.

“wow,” he let out a deep breath, his hot breath gracing over her face. “you’re good.” it was true, jay knew that if he had ever tried to do this, he would have given up at the first hurdle. y/n hummed in agreement, leaning over to press something on his screen.

the pair began making their way through the different profiles, y/n let jay take the lead, seeing as he would have to be the one talking to the women. except it seemed that jay had picked something wrong out with every woman he saw, swiping left over and over and over again.

“jay.” she whined, throwing her head back in annoyance.

“y/n.” he mirrored her tone. rolling her eyes, she took the phone back.

“there are not going to be any women left if you don’t give any of them a chance,” her finger swiping right on every profile she believed would match the man she knew. “do you know how many women would die for a hot detective?” y/n continued to giggle, not realising the seriousness that possessed jay’s face.

“but not you.” jay mumbled absentmindedly. snapping her head in his direction, y/n frowned.

“huh?”

“nothing.” jay felt stupid, incredibly stupid. the thoughts he had kept in the depth of his mind had found themselves on the tip of his tongue. unfortunately, he knew that he had not friended the woman over her passiveness, no she was direct and would not allow him to get away with such a pass away comment.

“come on, what do you mean not me?” the room became smaller the more jay let the silence lay. his breath shaking, considering that this might be the moment he had been dreading. the moment he told the truth.

“you know i still remember the first time we met,” the change in direction of conversation caught y/n off guard, but she didn’t dare interrupt, as he watched him with glossy eyes. “i still remember the floral dress that you walked in old man chambers’ english class. it was your first day and everyone was talking about the pretty girl. ryan roscoe tried to grab your ass and you kicked him in the balls. it was in that moment that i knew i would fall in love with you.” an unreadable emotion washed over y/n’s face, as jay strived through the courage thriving through his body. “i tried for years to get you to look at me in a way that wasn’t your ‘best friend’, but you never did.”

y/n didn’t know at what point that they had begin to lean in, but the two soon recognised how close their faces had become. y/n didn’t know how she was feeling, except the fact she had not desire to pull away. instead, she brought her hand up to rest on his jaw, the pad of her thumb running down his cheek.

“you never told me any of this until now, why?” it was a valid question, 11 years of friendship, 11 years of unspoken feelings, why now?

“things feel... different now.” it was undeniable, something in the air suffocated them with something that made them feel alive, a feeling the pair had only felt in the presence of the other.

jay’s eyes didn’t pull up from her lips, the feeling of her touch on his face was unexplainable. he wasn’t sure if it was possible to feel this was with anyone other than y/n y/l/n. jay didn’t know how he had gained so much bravery in such a short space of time, but he didn’t dare ponder on it. using it to his advantage.

“can i- can i kiss you?” jay didn’t receive the verbal response he was waiting for. instead in a flash moment, the plump lips he had been examining pressed against his own. the first kiss was soft, passionate, allowing every feeling they had ever considered flood through their action, reminding the other how long this had been building up. by the second kiss, the sentimentality had been replaced by lust, pulling the other close, as though they were waiting for the moment they woke from this dream.

when her breath had ran out, y/n hesitantly pulled away from jay. the stinging in her lips and erratic beating of her heart was addicting. her mind remained foggy, until a thought passed her mind.

“i wish you would have told me this before i spent an hour creating your tinder profile, think about all the hearts you have just broken!” she giggled, swatting his chest lightly, watching as he chuckled deeply.

“shut up and come here.” jay teased, flipping them over and pushing his lips against her own. drowning in the middling of their heartbeats and body heats. and for the first time, the infamous matchmaker of the 21st precinct had found her match.

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morningfears · 4 years

Text

Rose Tattoo [Chapter One]

Rating: PG-13 | Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of a panic attack.

Summary: Inspired by this blurb. | Calum is a tattoo artist. Stevie is getting her first tattoo. She’s terrified but determined and though Cal looks tough, when he takes off his jacket, Stevie notices the marker staining his arms and realizes that he’s a gentle giant who lets his son use him as a living coloring book. They hit it off but are either of them ready for anything more? [I’ll come up with a better fic summary later, promise.]

Word Count: 8.3k

series masterlist | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five

Stevie could see the clouds of her breath curling around her face, rising and disappearing just as quickly as they appeared, as she weaved through the crowds cluttering the sidewalk. She was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on her, small-town tourists staring at the shock of green hair atop her head, as she waited at a crosswalk. She focused on the music blaring in her headphones, on the bitter cold nipping at the slivers of exposed skin, on evening her breathing and keeping her face void of emotion, as she attempted to ignore them.

She hadn’t lived in New York long, barely two months, but the adjustment period had been painfully short. She’d learned, almost immediately, the best ways to avoid anyone asking her for directions or tips about the city. She’d also learned how to navigate the city through the path of least resistance (read: tourists). She rarely crossed paths with them, usually only on the subway to and from her office, as she tried not to venture too far from her own neighborhood. However, it seemed unavoidable today.

Stevie’s job kept her in the same general area. She usually met artists she was scheduled to interview near her office for coffee or in the park nearby if the weather permitted. Her neighborhood, though not perfect by any means, had everything that she needed to live - including an overpriced grocery store and a Vietnamese restaurant whose staff knew her, and her usual order, by name. There was a gym close enough and a coffee shop that made the best chai latte she’d ever had. The only things it lacked were the things that she rarely needed, like a good tattoo shop.

The tattoo shop at the end of her block with blinking neon signs and Sailor Jerry-esque artwork covering the walls didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. The owner, and the most prominent artist, lived across the hall from her and seemed more concerned with his reputation than with good art. The shop itself catered mostly to a certain brand of wannabe Instagram influencers and specialized in a type of tattoo that she didn’t want. So, to her dismay, she found herself having to step outside of the comfort zone she’d constructed and venture across the city to a tattoo shop a friend from work recommended.

Stevie felt a flurry of emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach as she drew closer and closer to the shop. She was excited, of course, because she had always loved tattoos. Her dream as a child was to be covered in them, a dream that she abandoned when she realized that she was too indecisive for something so permanent. However, she was also terrified. Needles had always been a fear of hers. Although she’d been pierced several times, her nose and ears and belly button were all bejeweled, none of her piercings took longer than a few minutes. The needle was in and out before she could really think about the choice she’d made and that was it.

Tattoos, on the other hand, were a different story.

She knew that the appointment would be at least a few hours long and the thought of sitting there for so long, immobile as a needle was repeatedly driven into her skin, made her nauseous as she stood outside the shop and attempted to control her breathing. She knew that she would be fine once they began the process, it was just getting into the shop and getting started that freaked her out. She knew, though, without a doubt that she had to get the tattoo. She couldn’t back out but the thought of postponing briefly crossed her mind as she stared at the bright blue neon sign in the window.

After sending Calum her references and telling him exactly what she wanted, he recommended two sessions. Her tattoo consisted mostly of fine lines and intricate detail, something Calum was comfortable with but knew would take more than the standard few hours, and neither really wanted to plan a day session. The first session was for line work, to get the basic outline of the tattoo onto her skin in black ink, while the second - scheduled for two weeks later - was to be spent adding color and detail. It made sense and she was happy that he didn’t push a day session but she almost wished she could just get it all over with immediately. At least that way she would only have to begin a session once.

As she stood outside the shop, gathering herself and hoping that she didn’t look as panicked as she felt, the world around her faded. She no longer heard the noise from the street or the loud hum of neon. She didn’t see the bright blue glow or the buildings reflected in the shop’s plate glass window. She didn’t notice the people passing her by, brushing past her without so much as a glance in her direction, nor did she notice the one person who decided to stop as her nerves held a firm grip on her. It was all white noise and a meaningless blur as she breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

Stevie only became aware of the person when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Stevie jumped, startled out of her reverie, and turned to face the stranger. She recognized him from the few photographs she’d seen on his Instagram - there were very few of his face but he’d posted one recently so she recognized the buzzcut and fading blue dye - and felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as she met Calum’s eyes. She had hoped that she would have herself together by the time she met him, she didn’t want to give him pause, but that seemed to be out of the question as he stood in front of her.

He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in person as he did in pictures and that eased some of the worry in the pit of her stomach. However, Stevie still found herself shrinking under his gaze. A few tattoos - the majority stark black and traditional, a mixture of intricate lines and simple designs from what she had seen online - peeked out of the collar of his shirt, a few more decorated his hands, and she tried not to stare as she took him in. His eyes, contrary to the mask of indifference he wore, were soft and concerned as he moved his hand from her shoulder and let it drop to his side.

Calum stared at her for a moment. He hadn’t made it a habit to stop and chat with pedestrians he happened across, regardless of where he happened across them (including in front of the tattoo shop where he worked). In the six years he’d lived in New York, he’d learned how to keep walking. He knew how to tune out the city around him and had gotten over the deep seated desire to help lost tourists or recent transplants. But something about this girl was different.

Her short hair, an artful mix of dark brown and green, was mussed - Calum assumed it was both the wind and her seemingly nervous habit of running her fingers through it - and her knuckles were white as she clutched her jacket tight against her body. Her face, illuminated in the late afternoon sun, looked mildly panicked but he could see a steely resolution in the set of her shoulders. It was interesting, the mixture of emotion he saw swirling in her eyes, and he felt compelled to speak to her.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he began, his voice quiet and soft in the din of the city as to not frighten her further but loud enough for her to hear, “but I just wanted to see if you were alright?”

It took Stevie a moment to gather herself, to formulate a response and push it through the thick cotton of panic that had formed in her mouth, but Calum seemed in no rush as he watched her knit her brows and internally assess herself. “Sure,” she nodded quickly, the word forced from her mouth and sounding garbled as she brought a hand up to run her fingers through her freshly dyed hair, “yeah. I’m fine. I’m just, uh, just a little nervous is all.” When Calum raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue speaking, she added, “About getting a tattoo, my first one. I mean, I didn’t just pick a random tattoo studio to have a breakdown in front of. I know that it’s silly but, yeah.”

Stevie noted that Calum’s gaze were curious, maybe a little amused, but in no way judgmental. He understood her apprehension and saw it more often than not with his clients. Getting a tattoo was a big commitment; they hurt, they could take hours to complete, they could be expensive (if they wanted a good tattoo), and they’re permanent. Although he had more than his fair share, Calum still felt a lingering nervousness in the back of his mind any time he added a piece to his ever-growing collection (though it usually faded to a sort of excitement, something of an adrenaline rush) but he remembered how nervous he had been for his first tattoo and couldn’t blame her for needing a moment to settle her nerves.

“It’s not,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “It’s normal, especially for the first one. Nerves are a part of the process,” he stated with a nod that suggested finality as he moved out of the path of pedestrians. She stepped to the side - subtly, he noted, but just enough to put a small distance between them - and averted her gaze as he glanced at his watch. He lifted his head, turning his gaze to her once more, before he asked, “You wouldn’t happen to be Stevie, would you?”

“Yep,” she nodded, placing an emphasis on the ‘p’, before she huffed out a sigh, “although I wish I was anyone but at the moment. Calum, right?” When he nodded, Stevie copied the gesture and offered him a weak smile. “Sorry you’re getting stuck with such a baby for a few hours. I have to get this tattoo. I’m just…” She paused, her eyebrows furrowed and her shoulders dropping, before she added, “Needles.”

Calum raised an eyebrow at her explanation as he took in the septum ring and the several studs and rings in her ears. He was sure he’d seen a flash of silver when she opened her mouth and he felt certain that if he looked closer, he’d see a barbell in her tongue. “You have a nose ring,” he pointed out as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and took in the gunmetal ring looped through her septum, “and I’m pretty sure I saw a tongue ring.”

Stevie huffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her head. Her cheeks, already pink from the cold, deepened in color as the embarrassment heated her body. “Tattoos and piercings are different,” she defended as she glanced at the people passing them by, “one lasts thirty seconds, at most, and the other takes hours. I’d rather be jabbed with a needle once than have someone keep stabbing me. It’s…” Stevie paused, searching her brain for the right words to adequately describe her feelings, before she settled on, “It’s the repetition, I guess.”

Calum laughed at Stevie’s explanation and she wanted nothing more than to turn and walk away from the conversation. She imagined that he didn’t mean any harm - she hoped that he didn’t, anyway - but she didn’t like feeling like she was being made fun of. She knew that she was being overly sensitive, that her anxiety lowered her threshold for rationality, but she still didn’t like it. However, she wanted Calum to tattoo her - she needed him to tattoo her - so she bit her tongue and stood still as she contemplated her next move.

Calum, sensing the shift in Stevie’s attitude, shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “If that’s how it is for you, that’s how it is for you,” Calum offered with a shrug as he attempted to catch her eye again, “but, trust me when I tell you that you probably won’t be my worst client this week. As long as you don’t faint, you’re miles ahead of a guy I had a few days ago.”

Stevie paled at the mention of fainting and Calum realized, too late, that that might not have been as reassuring as he’d intended it to be. He’d hoped to put her at ease, to relax her before he brought her into the shop, but with how tight she was wound, he didn’t imagine he would be able to. Instead, he sighed and stepped around her to head toward the door. “You ready to head in? I’ve got some designs drawn up. We can look at them and you can decide which one you like best.”

“Sure,” she nodded as she stepped through the door and into the studio itself. “Sorry I’m so early. You know how some people are chronically late? I have the exact opposite problem.”

“You should stick around, teach us your ways,” Calum hummed as he followed her in. “No one here is ever on time.”

“Fuck you. I am always on time.” Stevie turned just in time to catch sight of a crumbled ball of paper flying toward Calum’s head. The culprit, a man with inky black hair and an array of black and red tattoos, was seated at a drawing table and smiled at her when she caught his eye.

“When you own the place, I guess you can never really be late,” Calum deadpanned as he stepped around her and gestured for her to take a seat on the couch in the corner. “Hang out here for a second,” he instructed as he reached for the crumbled ball of paper on the floor, “I’ll go grab the designs and we can talk about placement and get everything figured out.”

Stevie nodded and watched as Calum navigated the array of equipment with practiced ease. He paused for a moment, long enough to nudge the - well, the owner, she guessed - and laugh as he messed up a line, before he disappeared through a door marked ‘staff only’. She glanced around the building, her eyes raking over the various paintings and prints and flash sheets that covered the walls, and found herself getting lost in the artwork as she waited for Calum to return.

**********************

As Stevie was twenty minutes early for her appointment - something that he appreciated; he would rather clients arrive early and have to wait for him to be ready than have them arrive late and derail his schedule for the day - Calum didn’t feel so bad taking a moment to breathe as he sifted through his files to find the few designs he’d created for her. Though it was barely three in the afternoon, his day had already been long. He’d been up since four that morning and he wanted nothing more than to finish her tattoo and head home.

The tattoo itself was fairly simple in concept, a bouquet of roses in shades of red and green with a ribbon tying them together (the only odd detail was a small skull pin on the ribbon), but the tattoo itself was quite large. He’d warned her, over email, that it would likely become close to a half sleeve if he made it as detailed as she wanted and she hadn’t been deterred at all. Despite it being her first tattoo, something she mentioned, she seemed incredibly committed to making it work.

Normally, Calum wouldn’t have minded sitting for a full session. The tattoo wouldn’t have taken more than ten hours and, though he hated marathon sessions, he could’ve done it. However, their schedules never quite clicked and the only time Stevie could get into the shop was after three in the afternoon. In another life, four years earlier, Calum wouldn’t have hesitated to accept staying in the shop until one in the morning. A session that ran late into the night would’ve just been another day at work for him. But, as fate would have it, he was no longer able to schedule his life so selfishly.

The deciding factor in his availability was - and had been for nearly five years - his son.

Calum became a father at the young age of twenty and his apprenticeship (back when he first began tattooing), his bookings now, his life; they all revolved around Tāne’s schedule. He had a babysitter, one that watched Tāne after school and kept him until Calum’s last appointment of the day finished, but it wouldn’t be fair to either his son or the babysitter to accept an appointment that lasted so long. Even if it was a one off appointment, he wanted to get home, to have dinner with his son and read him a bedtime story or just tuck him in, just as much as he wanted the babysitter to be free to go home and do her homework or see her own parents.

Calum had seen friends, men older than him and even some younger, that let their lives be consumed by their work and made their families pay for it. They chose local celebrity, fleeting online fame, over their home lives and he’d seen what it could do firsthand. He’d seen them end up divorced and alone, unable to get weekends with their children despite promising to be there for them. He’d seen them depressed, missing a part of themselves they hadn’t even known they’d had until it was gone. He’d met the teenage children of older artists and had been told stories about their childhoods, dealing with the absence of their fathers. And he desperately wanted to avoid that.

Calum wanted to be present for his son. He wanted to be a steadfast figure in his life, to be there whenever he needed him, so every decision was made with him in mind. His decision to cut a ten hour session into two shorter, five hour ones was made with Tāne in mind. It gave him time to pick up his son from school - they got out at 1:00 on Fridays - and spend a few hours with him before he had to disappear to the shop. It also helped ensure that he would be home in time to tuck his son into bed before he passed out himself. It ensured that he wouldn’t be dead on his feet, dragging into the living room as Tāne begged for chocolate chip pancakes and Saturday morning cartoons. It ensured that he wouldn’t be a shell of himself, present in body but absent in mind.

It ensured that he would be able to give his son the attention he deserved.

He leaned against the counter, staring at the transfer paper in his hands without truly seeing it, and took a deep breath. He could already feel the tension in his shoulders. It was present after the long morning he’d had and he could already anticipate the aching pain that came with sitting hunched over for hours at a time. He’d done a marathon session the day before, an eight hour tattoo that ended with a beautiful piece and a customer he could count on seeing again, but it left him aching and ready for a day off. However, as he lifted his head and turned to face the shelves, he reasoned that at least this session wouldn’t be so bad with the placement of Stevie’s tattoo.

After gathering himself, after clearing his head, Calum grabbed the items he would need from the supply closet and returned to set up his station. He imagined that Stevie would be sitting on the couch, waiting patiently as she attempted not to panic, but to his (almost lack of) surprise, he found her sitting on one of the extra artist stools with her chin in her hand as she watched Ashton outline a tattoo he was working on for Michael. Ashton looked calm, happy, even, as he explained the design to her and Calum rolled his eyes.

Stevie was cute, that much he could admit. Her hair, something she’d smoothed since stepping into the shop, was a shock of green among the blacks and blues of the shop. She was a strange mixture of hard edges and soft lines with but Calum imagined that that only added to her intrigue. Her cheeks seemed permanently flushed despite the warmth of the shop and Calum imagined that it was her nerves. Ashton, however, seemed to have a sixth sense for flirting with cute, nervous clients and it was starting to get old. He told everyone it was to help them be at ease, to calm their nerves before the tattoo, but Calum imagined it was more to help him get laid.

He let them be for a moment, long enough to drop the items he’d gathered onto the stand beside his station, before he decided to interrupt them. “If I could have my client back, mate,” Calum called, glancing over at the pair of them as he unzipped his jacket and began to shrug it off, “we can go ahead and get started.”

Ashton, used to Calum’s interruptions, shot him an easy grin as he nodded. “I was just keeping her company until you were ready for her. She’s all yours,” Ashton assured him with a mock salute before he returned his full attention to the drawing in front of him.

Stevie smiled at Calum, a little uneasy grin that seemed to be a reflex more than anything, before she returned the stool to the station she’d grabbed it from and crossed the shop to join him. As he arranged his set up, his movements steady and practiced, Stevie shrugged off her coat and paused for a moment. She glanced around the shop, empty save for her, Calum, and Ashton, before she asked, “I have on an undershirt. Like, I’m wearing a tank top beneath the long sleeve. Do I just…?”

Calum glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, an amused laugh leaving his lips as he watched her hesitate. “Yeah,” he nodded as he grabbed the black ink, “long sleeve has to go. You can take it off out here or there’s a bathroom over there.”

Stevie stood frozen, seemingly unsure, and Calum almost urged her toward the bathroom but before he could, she gripped the hem of her long sleeve with one hand and the hem of her tank top with another. She tugged the black garment up and over her head, huffing as it mused her hair even further and as she hit her elbow on the corner of the countertop behind her. She remained stuck in the garment for a moment, struggling to free herself, and Calum had to bite back a laugh as she rubbed her elbow with a frown on her lips.

“Right,” she nodded after dropping her shirt onto her bag and taking a moment to watch him set up - something he felt almost too aware of. “Where do you want me?”

Calum didn’t look at her as he arranged the little pots of ink on his workstation. Instead, he nodded his head toward the designs laying on the counter of his station. “Have a look at those for me,” he encouraged as he reached for the box of gloves beside him, “let me know which one you like the most and we’ll see how it looks in terms of placement and size.”

Calum’s station was in a corner of the shop. There were mirrors surrounding him, something that he felt almost neutral about most days, but he used them to his advantage as he watched Stevie through the mirror. He watched, curious, as she carefully traced her fingers over the designs laying on the counter and analyzed the emotions on her face. She hadn’t told him what the tattoo was for, he hadn’t asked, but he had gotten good at recognizing emotion in his years as an artist. He’d always been good at reading people, it was a gift, but he’d learned how to spot grief despite the many faces it wore as he’d done more memorial tattoos than he could count. Each circumstance was different, everyone dealt with grief in their own way, but the tattoo serving as a memorial explained why she felt so strongly about getting the tattoo (including the size and details) despite her obvious nerves.

Although he was outwardly the most reserved artist in the shop, he had always been the one that felt the deepest connection with other people. He empathized far too strongly for his own good and sometimes he hated that part of his job. He sat with people for hours, inking permanent memorials into their skin and listening as they told him stories of parents or grandparents or, God forbid, children that had passed and his heart bled for each one. He never knew what the session would bring - whether they would be an open book or whether the grief was too fresh to even consider speaking - and he didn’t know what to expect with Stevie. Usually, he knew what he was hoping for - more often than not, it was a happy medium that didn’t leave him emotionally drained by the end of an appointment - but with Stevie, he found himself unsure of what he hoped for.

But, by the way her hand shook and her breathing stuttered when she followed the outline of the skull with soft fingers, Calum knew that, regardless of the session itself, he hoped that the experience would bring her some semblance of closure.

Calum was finished setting up his station by the time she chose a design. He didn’t want to push, not when he could see tears glittering on her lashes, so he leaned against the counter and waited for her to speak. “This one,” she finally breathed, her voice quiet in the nearly empty shop. “This one’s perfect.”

The design wasn’t much different than her original request, it was still a bouquet of roses with the ribbon and skull (a detail she’d insisted on), but there were a few smaller flowers throughout as well as a few more intricate lines and details. It was, without a doubt, the hardest of the drawings to place onto her skin, it would bump the session up to twelve hours instead of ten, but it was his favorite, too.

Calum never gave his opinion on which design a client should choose. At the end of the day, it was their body. However, he found himself breathing, “I was hoping that’s the one you’d go for,” before he knew what he was saying. He didn’t know why but something about her vulnerability made him want to assure her that she was making the right decision.

Stevie looked up from the counter and when he met her eyes, his heart broke for her. He could see a glassy sheen of unshed tears and beneath the layer of nerves, he could see just how lost she looked. It was a jarring change, gone were the flushed cheeks and doe eyes, replaced by sadness, and it was hard to keep himself together as he watched her nod. “Let’s get this stencil on, then, and see what it looks like,” he mumbled, his voice quiet as he reached for the stencil and beckoned her closer to him.

Stevie seemed lost in her own thoughts so Calum worked in silence. He didn’t speak as he placed the stencil on her upper arm, exactly where she’d asked for, and was glad to see that the measurements he’d used had worked in just the way he’d hoped. It was a big tattoo, especially for the first, but - and Calum wasn’t sure if this was his own selfish desire to make his tattoos look as if they had always been a part of his clients’ bodies - it looked like it belonged.

Calum stared at it for a moment, his eyes raking over the pale purple lines on her skin, and he decided that it was beautiful. It fit her perfectly, exactly the way he’d hoped it would, and she echoed the thought as she breathed, “It’s beautiful. It looks perfect.”

“The placement is okay?” he asked, just to be sure, as he nudged her toward the full length mirror to get a better look at the angle. She stared at her reflection for a moment, her eyes glued to her right arm, and nodded. Calum, happy that she was happy, repeated the gesture and pointed to the chair. “Okay. Take a seat for me and we’ll. Get started.”

Stevie settled into the chair and kept her eyes on her hands, folded across her lap, as Calum settled onto his stool beside her. He could see the shaking in her limbs, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tried to steady her breathing, but she was quiet. She didn’t want to give him pause, he realized that, and he admired her follow through as she was clearly panicked. The only sound that echoed through the shop was the scratch of Ashton’s pencil against paper and the sound of traffic outside. Calum almost didn’t want to break the silence. It wasn’t awkward, just pensive, but he had to get started so he said, “I’m going to start with a line, just to give you a feel for it. Remember to breathe for me and let me know how you’re doing. If you need a break, tell me and I’ll stop.”

Calum kept his eyes on her arm as he traced one line onto her skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath over the hum of the machine but, to his surprise, she kept perfectly still. She was rigid, almost alarmingly so, and had her nails dug into her palms but she nodded at him. “I’m fine. It’s fine,” she assured him, her voice tight as she stared straight ahead at the artwork on the wall, “Go ahead.”

Stevie kept her posture for the first thirty minutes of her tattoo. Those long minutes passed in silence, Calum focused on the bigger lines that gave the entire image shape, and Stevie kept her eyes on the wall. He glanced at her every so often, just to make sure she hadn’t passed out, and was somewhat surprised at how well she seemed to be holding herself together. Her anxiety faded as they went on, her body relaxing and her breathing evening, and nearly an hour into the process, Calum could feel her eyes on him.

Stevie watched him work but her gaze wasn’t scrutinizing, just curious. She was engaged in the process and Calum was glad to see that she’d calmed at least somewhat since their initial meeting. He didn’t mind silent sessions, ones where the clients didn’t speak at all, but he was curious. He wanted to know exactly what the tattoo stood for so he asked, “Why a bouquet with the skull?”

Stevie hesitated, her eyes glued to his hands as he traced another line, and he almost retracted his question. However, before he could open his mouth, she sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest. “It’s for a friend,” she offered, her voice quiet and barely audible over the buzz of the machine. “She died a few months ago.”

Calum occasionally offered his ear to clients - some he didn’t have to offer it to, they were more than willing to spill regardless of his feelings on the matter - and he felt the need to listen to Stevie’s story. So, as he paused to wipe at the ink on her skin, he asked, “You want to talk about it? I’ve been told tattoo artists are like therapists. Just, less frequent visits. For most people, anyway.”

Stevie cracked a smile at Calum’s attempted banter and he was surprised at the feeling of accomplishment that blossomed in his chest. He never really invested himself in his clients’ lives, he had his own shit to worry about, but he felt for her. Losing a friend so young - she had to be his age or younger - and one that meant enough for her to face her fear and get a tattoo for had to be hard. And, if her accent was anything to go by, she was a long way from home and likely didn’t have anyone to vent to. So, he felt compelled to offer her an open ear.

“It was cancer,” she finally answered after such a prolonged silence that Calum had almost forgotten he’d asked. He glanced up from the line he was working on and frowned as she kept her eyes on the ceiling. “Her name was Angela. We were best friends for ages. She was the first friend I made when I moved after Katrina and we did everything together. We went to college together. We were going to move up here together. But she got sick.” Stevie paused for a moment, gathering herself, and Calum almost reached for the box of tissues on Luke’s station but stopped himself as he continued tattooing. “She dropped out, couldn’t keep up with the work because of the chemo, and that was it. She died. She had this bucket list, all these things she wanted to do before before she died, and I promised her I’d finish it for her. The tattoo was the next thing on the list. She really wanted the roses. You wouldn’t have thought it, looking at her, but she loved flowers.”

“Shit,” Calum breathed, his voice barely audible despite the absence of the buzzing machine. “That’s… I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“Don’t be,” Stevie shrugged before quickly apologizing for the movement. “She’s not suffering anymore. It got really bad toward the end. She was in a lot of pain. I would’ve preferred she got better, of course, but an end’s an end, I guess.” She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to blink back tears, before she added, “The skull is this ring she wore literally every day. Her mom gave it to me.” She lifted her left hand and pulled a long chain from beneath the neckline of her tank top. At the end dangled a small silver ring in the shape of a skull with two red gems for eyes.

Calum, despite his countless jokes about how much they annoyed him, couldn’t imagine losing any of his friends. They were his brothers, they always had been, and he knew that no matter how much they exhausted him, he’d be lost without them. They made his world better, they made his son’s world better, and if he lost one of them, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to properly function. He admired what she was doing, finishing her friend’s bucket list, and felt honored to be part of the quest.

However, before Calum had the chance to tell her as much, Stevie shook her head. “Sad hours are over,” she laughed as she brought her left hand up to wipe at her eyes. “What about you?” she asked, glancing at his arm. “Your tattoos are beautiful. I really like the intricate line work - it looks good on you - but it looks like someone’s been coloring outside the lines.”

Calum was mildly thrown off by the sudden shift in her attitude but found himself glancing at his forearms, at the tattoos she could easily see beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt, and flushed as he caught sight of the neon marker staining his skin. “My son,” he explained, smiling sheepishly at her. “He likes coloring in my tattoos. Some of them are a little too intricate for him to stay inside the lines but he likes it and the markers stain.”

Calum could see Stevie’s face light up with a smile out of the corner of his eye. The crushing sadness, the loss, that had been so clear only a moment earlier faded slightly as she took in the marker staining his skin. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed, her accent growing thicker as she brought her left hand to her heart. “He’s got a living coloring book. How old is he?” She paused for a moment, considered her question, and then added, “If you don’t mind me asking, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Calum assured her, a soft smile on his lips as he nodded toward the photo of Tāne he kept on his station. “That’s him. He’s almost five.”

“Four and three quarters, thank you,” Ashton, who had been silent throughout their conversation, interjected with a bright grin as he was given the opportunity to talk about his pseudo-nephew.

“Four and three quarters,” Calum agreed with a laugh, “yeah. He gets offended if you forget that part.”

“I’m the same way with my height,” Stevie nodded, “I get it. He’d adorable. He looks just like you and I’m assuming he’s got the artist thing down, too?”

“He’ll put us all out of a job one day,” Calum agreed with a smile as he glanced up at her. “He was a tattoo artist for Halloween. Had Ash give him tattoos like mine and everything,” Calum confessed with a grin as he thought back to the shock of seeing his son, dressed in a small pair of Docs and covered in Sharpie.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that was incredibly adorable but also got you a lot of funny looks.” When Calum laughed, Stevie smiled. “I’m guessing the curls are what you used to look like?” she asked, glancing at the photo once more before she returned her gaze to Calum’s buzzed and blue hair.

“Mm, yeah. Once upon a time,” Calum nodded. Calum studied her, glancing at the green and brown mess of curls, before he asked, “What about you? I’m guessing the same was true for you before you chopped and dyed yours?”

“Brown, yeah. Curly? No. I wish. My hair was limp as fuck,” Stevie laughed as she tousled the green curls with her left hand. “It was gross and unhealthy so I cut it all off when I moved up here. I dyed it, too. I always wanted green hair and people don’t give a shit about your hair color here.”

“They did back home?” Calum asked, reaching out to wipe at her skin. When Stevie nodded, Calum asked, “Where is home?”

Stevie paused, staring at him as he added another line, before she said, “I’m sure you can tell by the accent, but I’m from the south. New Orleans. Well, not really New Orleans because if I was from there, they wouldn’t have cared about the hair - they see far weirder shit on the regular, believe me, but that’s the closest city you’d know.”

Calum nodded, certain that was true - he barely knew anything about New Orleans, let alone Louisiana as a whole - before he asked, “Why New York?”

“We had this running joke,” Stevie began, shifting in her seat as the discomfort of sitting still for nearly two hours started to set in, “that I was going to move to New York to become some obnoxious fucking fashion blogger or something and that Angela was going to follow me and be my photographer. That’s not exactly what happened but, well, close enough.”

“How close is close?” Calum asked as he pushed away from her and pulled off his gloves. “We can take a break for a second. Get up, move around. I’ll grab you some water.”

It was unlike him to be so invested in a client’s life but he felt at ease chatting with her. Something about her was easy, like talking to an old friend, and he felt himself growing more and more curious about her life. So, he kept the conversation flowing and was happy to hear her answer.

“I write for Rolling Stone,” Stevie told him, her voice following him as he moved toward the back to grab a bottle of water for himself and one for her. “Angela was going to be a photographer. Her editing skills were out of this world and she had an eye for detail like no one else. All of my work, the writing samples I sent in, they were a package deal. They all came with photos from her. We both had jobs lined up but… Anyway, I couldn’t stay at home so I took the job. Packed it all up and here I am.” Calum watched as she wandered around the shop, her right hand flexing as she attempted to wake it from where she’d sat with it so still for nearly two hours. She moved slowly, carefully, and paused at each flash sheet to study it just a little closer. “What about you?” she asked after a moment of silence, turning her head to glance at him over her should. “There’s a twinge of something not New York there.”

“Australia,” Ashton answered for him, a wide grin on his lips as he stood from his drawing table and stretched his arms. “All of us hail from the land down under. We packed it all up and moved here after Cal, Luke, and Mike finished high school. It was supposed to be a temporary thing but here we are, six years later.”

“You’re a lot farther from home than I am,” Stevie noted as she returned her gaze to the flash sheets on the wall. “But I guess some places just become like home, regardless of whether you mean for them to,” she offered with a shrug and Calum couldn’t help but agree.

He hadn’t meant for New York to become his home. He, like Ashton said, hadn’t intended to stay very long at all. The goal was to get enough experience under a talented enough artist to return home and open his own shop somewhere in Sydney. He wanted to be near his parents, near his sister, but something about the city sank its claws into his heart and kept him rooted in the Big Apple. He’d decided to stay before Tāne and now, now he couldn’t imagine disrupting his son’s life. Now, New York felt more like home than his real home did, though he sometimes felt the familiar ache to return to warmer weather and familiar scenes settle in his bones.

As the conversation lulled, Stevie returned to the chair and Calum found himself surprised at how quickly her appointment seemed to pass. Her initial nerves, the crippling fear that had seen her almost have a panic attack on the sidewalk in front of the shop, disappeared after the first few strokes of his machine. Getting started had been the hard part. Every part of her body had been tense and Calum was worried that she would stop breathing and pass out on him. However, once he’d settled into a groove and got her talking, sharing stories of her hometown and telling Ashton what bars to avoid should he ever venture down south for Mardi Gras, the appointment flew by.

He didn’t get attached to clients often, didn’t truly enjoy their presence beyond them being easy to work with, but he liked Stevie. She was his dream client, easy to work with and good at sitting still. She didn’t seem to mind the pain - or, if she did, she didn’t say anything about it. She sat calmly, never forcing conversation but letting it flow naturally, and Calum found himself at ease as he worked on her. The rough morning he’d had melted as he talked with her (and occasionally Ashton) about music and he was almost surprised when he added the last stroke to her outline. Her upper arm was covered in a beautiful bouquet of roses, only missing the red and green ink, and he had to take a moment to admire the beautiful, finished (for now) product.

“Alright,” Calum began as he pulled away from her and nodded his head toward the full length mirror she’d first taken a glance at her arm in, “take a look and let me know how you feel.”

Stevie walked across the shop, groaning as she got the blood flowing in her legs once more, and stopped in front of the mirror. Calum watched her face, his eyes on trained on hers, and breathed a sigh of relief at the awed look she wore. Her left hand came up to her arm, her fingers not quite touch the fresh ink, as she stared at herself in the mirror. She was quiet, scrutinizing, but Calum could see the approval in her eyes. It looked like she’d wanted it to, exactly as she imagined it would, and that was all he wanted.

Stevie was quiet for a moment, gathering herself, before she turned away from the mirror to look at Calum. “She would’ve loved it,” she breathed, her voice cracking slightly as she smiled at him. “I know it’s not finished yet but it’s already so perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Calum nodded, a small smile on his lips as he gestured for her to return to the chair, “I’m glad it’s doing her justice. Let me wrap it up and we’ll get you out of here.”

Wrapping her tattoo took only moments and, after she paid, Stevie was out the door with a final heartfelt thank you and an agreement to return the same time two weeks later. Calum watched her leave, his eyes glued to the door, and remained in his spot behind the desk until Ashton said, “She was cute.”

Calum blinked, surprised at the sound of Ashton’s voice, and rolled his eyes as he let the comment settle in his mind. “She’ll be back in two weeks,” he informed him with a sigh, “you can ask her out then.” Normally, that wouldn’t have irked him so much, imagining Ashton taking one of his clients out for drinks. However, something about him asking Stevie unsettled him and he didn’t like the annoyance he felt in the pit of his stomach as he imagined Ashton flirting with her.

However, the annoyed was short lived as Ashton tossed another ball of paper at his head. “Not for me, dickhead,” he huffed as he stood from his chair and turned off the lamp at his station. “For you. You two would look good together.”

At that, Calum turned and stared at his friend. It wasn’t in his nature to attempt to set him up, to even encourage him to date, and he wondered what the change of heart was about. However, he didn’t bother to ask as he stated plainly, “No,” and moved to clean his station so he could get home to Tāne.

“Look,” Ashton began as he crossed the shop to help him clean, “I know that you don’t want to make things difficult for Tāne and you’re still on edge after El but it’s been three years. One date won’t be the end of the world, mate.” He paused, weighing his words carefully, before he added, “You talked more with her today than you ever have with a client. You guys clicked.”

Calum was quiet as he considered Ashton’s words. He had spoken more with Stevie than he ever had any client. He’d felt comfortable with her, the conversation flew naturally and five hours passed in the blink of an eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to consider that as an option. He knew that time had passed for him to move on, he had moved on, but he didn’t want open himself up to another heartbreak. Not when the first one was still weighing so heavily on his life. So, instead of telling Ashton that he was afraid of loving and losing once more, he deflected the conversation.

“El’s lawyer called this morning,” he sighed as he returned the box of gloves to his station. “I’ve got other shit to deal with that doesn’t involve finding a girlfriend. And Stevie - she’s nice but she’s got other shit on her mind, too. Just leave it, mate.”

“Wait, El’s lawyer? She’s not still trying to get custody, is she?” Ashton asked as he stopped cleaning and turned his full attention to Calum.

“Mm,” he confirmed with a sigh as he dropped the bottle of antiseptic cleaner and took a seat on his stool. “Still thinks I’m an unfit parent. She thinks that she and fuckface will do a better job. They want to move to Boston and she wants to take him with them.”

“Fuck, Cal,” Ashton breathes as he reaches out to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. She doesn’t deserve custody and I’ll help you however I can. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he reached for the discarded tissues he’d used to wipe at the ink on Stevie’s tattoo. “I know.”

Calum knew that his friends would help however they could. He knew that, like Ashton, Michael and Luke would do whatever he needed of them to help him keep his son and the job he loved so much. He also knew that, when the dust settled around the latest in his ex’s attempts to unsettle his life, Ashton would return his attention to the topic of Calum’s lack of a partner and, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t exactly mind it. He was steadfast in his decision to focus on one problem at a time - his most pressing being his impending battle for custody - but maybe, just maybe, there would soon be room in his life for someone else. And maybe, just maybe, that would be the girl with the rose tattoo.

______________________________________________

Author’s Note: So. Thoughts? Feelings? I’m really excited for this. I’ve had this fic in mind for ages. The first chapter wasn’t as fluffy as I was imagining it would be nor is it as filled with Calum being a dad but there are some soft moments and I’m really looking forward to continuing it. I have it all planned out and I’m already halfway through chapter two I’m pretty stoked. Also, I’m trying to do it from both perspectives (Stevie’s and Calum’s because a) there are things about Stevie I don’t want you to know yet and b) it’s about single dad!Cal so. Anyway!). Let me know your thoughts!

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indigosandviolets · 4 years

Note

Heyyy if you are still doing inglorious basterds requests could you write something about like how the basterds proposed/why they decided to propose? Love your writing btw!!!

softtt shittt ohhh my god

Aldo Raine

i feel like Aldo, the southern charmer that he is, would probably go for the classic multiple location proposal

like he takes you out to all of your favorite places throughout the day

he decided to propose because you two have been together for about three years and he knew he couldn’t be happier with anyone else

and all of the places you go to are like super significant or where silly events happened

like the restaurant where you had your first date after the war, the beach where you two got chased by a seagull, even the bar where you two got piss drunk and had a very interesting conversation with a cab driver

and at the end he takes you home, makes you wait in the living room for the last surprise, and he comes back holding a picture

it’s of you and the rest of the Basterds, and there you two are in the middle, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head tilted towards his

“Aldo, where’d you get-“

at this time you realize he’s on one knee

and you drop the picture and you almost cry

of course you nod yes and he gets up, puts the ring on your finger, and holds you while you try to stop crying even though he doesn’t mind

knowing that he’s gonna be the man who gets to marry you? he’d be more than willing to let you cry on him for as long as you need to

Donny Donowitz

for all intents and purposes, let’s pretend that the Sox won the World Series in 1946 alright?

you two went to the last game. it was right after you two got back from Europe and it was super intense — it was tied all the way up until the last inning where Teddy Williams knocked it out the park

there’s screaming everywhere, and you two are so excited and happy that he picks you up, spins you, and the holds you there for a second with your legs wrapped around his waist

and you looked so beautiful and happy in that moment, over the screaming, he knows he has to ask

“Do you want to get married?”

“Do I — yes, you crazy bitch, yes!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Yes! Two fuckin’ home runs in one day!”

you guys got casual shut the fuck up looks from everyone around you but you didn’t care

cause now you’re getting married

you ended up getting a ring after the game, and it was very simple. the more intricate thing was Donny getting a baseball from Fenway Park with the date on it

he wrote your names in sharpie underneath because he’s not the classiest of guys but it’s still incredibly heart felt

Hugo Stiglitz

so you and Stiglitz were together for about a year before you got engaged

this is because it took your parents a little while to get used to Stiglitz being...Stiglitz

they were eventually comfortable around him and started to like him when he asked about the prospects of marriage

because you two had been thinking about it

instead of doing the traditional thing and asking the father for your hand, he asked your mother because she knows you the best

instead of a ring, she gave Stiglitz her necklace that had been given to her by your father on their first anniversary

her entire thing was you better treat my daughter right or i’ll fuck you up

ANYWAY

he ends up getting down on one knee while you’re on a walk the next day

and you were a little surprised by the necklace until you recognized it

“Hugo, is that—“

“Your mother’s? Yes.”

“Oh my god. Oh my g o d. Yes, yes, of course.”

Wilhelm Wicki

so you guys weren’t initially planning on getting married married lmao

like you were going to spend your lives together and you both knew that, so a legal marriage wasn’t really what you were worried about

until you got pregnant

you two had been together for almost seven years at this point so you weren’t surprised

but your parents were PISSED because you weren’t married and that was a whole issue

so one day while you were asleep he got up very early in the morning and went and got you a ring

but when he tried to get back in bed without waking you up, he woke you up

“Wicki? What are you doing up?”

“Go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

Instead of doing that, you role over and look at him

“You’ve been out for an hour. What’s wrong?”

He looks at you, thinks for a moment, and then pulls out the ring. “Everything except you. Since everyone is already thinking about it, let’s do it on our own accord. Will you marry me?”

“Wicki, I love you. I love you so much. Holy shit.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, Wicki, that’s a yes.”

Smithson Utivich

you and Utivich were together for two years when he proposed

he did it right after Operation Kino

well not right after but as soon as you two were over American lines and riding in the douche and a half

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

��How the hell did we make it out of this?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad we did.”

you two are holding hands the whole time

and Aldo is driving and he sees how nervous Uti is and this guy says, “Jesus, Utivich, just ask her.”

so he does

“Do you want to get married?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“To me?”

“That’s implied, Utivich.”

he doesn’t have a ring on him, but of course Aldo had a brilliant idea. he had a bottle cap and (WHILE DRIVING) and cut out a hole to serve as a makeshift ring until you two got back to England

and why is Aldo a part of this, you may ask? well, Aldo has been rooting for the two you since the day you guys met. those are just the facts.

Gerold Hirschberg

you two got engaged about six months after the end of the war

Hirschberg sent you on a scavenger hunt type deal with sticky notes around your house and in your work

it started in the kitchen with a note on the coffee pot to your car to the typewriter in your office to the inside of your lunch box, each with notes about how much he really loves you

and then the last one was on the front door and it told you to go to the back porch for your final sticky

and low and behold Hirschberg is there with a fancy dinner all set up

so you two eat and you ask about the final sticky note cause you’re curious damnit

and he hands it over, and it’s a little crumpled, but it reads, ‘Will you marry me?’

and you look up and you see that he’s not in his seat anymore but he’s on his knee, with a ring

“Well?”

“Gerry, you — yes, I’ll marry you.”

and after he puts the ring on you tell him, “You could’ve asked me without the whole note thing, you know.”

“But it got you curious, and now we’re engaged.”

“That we are.”

Omar Ulmer

okay so you and Omar didn’t really have a proper proposal?

you had been together for four years after his confession of love right before Operation Kino and you were already planning a future together

and one day you two are cuddling on the couch in the morning and he just asks about it nonchalantly

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna get married?”

“Sure. When?”

“Hmm. What dates work for you?”

“June 6th is free.”

“I think my schedule fits with that.”

“Great. What time works for you?”

“Anytime you want.”

very casual but very loving and i think that’s the kind of guy Omar is

#inglorious basterds headcanons #inglorious basterds #aldo raine #aldo raine x reader #donny donnowitz x reader #donny donowitz #hugo stiglitz #hugo stiglitz x reader #wilhelm wicki x reader #wilhelm wicki #smithson utivich x reader #smithson utivich #gerold hirschberg #gerold hirschberg x reader #omar ulmer x reader #omar ulmer

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rpgmgames · 4 years

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February’s Featured Game: Ressurflection

DEVELOPER(S): charlottezxz ENGINE: RPG Maker MV GENRE: Fantasy, Cartoon, RPG WARNINGS: Paranoia, fear and tension, mild swearing and blood. SUMMARY: Ressurflection is a Fantasy/cartoon RPG set in the fictional universe of the Arbvar and taking center stage primarily at the coastal city of ‘Horizon Bluff’. Its story and game play are heavily character driven, with its narrative divided into two parallels told both within and outside the mirror itself. Ressurflection’s core themes draw from our inevitability of fearing death, and that at some point or another, we all must accept it, and to treasure what’s really important in the time that we have.

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! *charlottezxz: Hiya this is Charlotte, lead game developer for Ressurflection! I’m some silly, overactive drawing monkey who works a lot with Narrow on Ressurflection! I’m always sketching and conceptualizing monster bois, taking a lot of inspiration from various games, primarily monster hunter! I’ve had avid interest in the Indie scene for a while now and a lot of the great friends I've made have been due to it and a lot of my recent favorite games have come from it! I would have had Narrow say a few things here but he’s hiding in a corner somewhere!

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *charlottezxz: Ressurflection started out as what can be described as two separate stories. Myself and Narrow wrote our own stories and every so often we swapped over ideas or combined them together with each other. One day I said to ourselves ‘You know what? This could work quite well as a game rather than just a story’ so eventually Ressurflection was conceived, around the idea of a mythical mirror capable ‘Ressurflection’ the title of the game. We’ve gone through quite a few iterations of the story before it came to its current form and to be honest if we even showed or compared them side by side they’d be pretty unrecognizable as the same thing except for certain characters, locations and the mirror itself to identify its primordial form having any kind of ancestral relevance to how it is today. As for what Ressurflection is about, I think our synopsis can get that across quite nicely! ‘Horizon Bluff has always annually held its ‘Legend of the Wyvern Glass’ festivities. The Wyvern glass was a long lost mythical mirror, once fabled for its power of ‘Ressurflection’ and coveted by a kingdom now all but gone. That is quick to change however with the arrival of the Roulette Runner’s circus to the coastal city of Horizon Bluff. Trouble is soon to set in motion not just the kingdom’s sudden reappearance but the entrapment of one of their own acrobats within the mirror silver. Yet things are soon to worsen...with the spread of a purple ‘corruption’ across the city and the fact that our most unfortunate trouper is far from alone within the mirror, finding himself at the mercy of its ‘Mirror Maiden’. > The apparent all powerful manipulator of its realm…’

How long have you been working on your project? *charlottezxz: Conceptually we have been working on it for 4 years which is hard to even fathom, however that’s more tinkering around the idea for the story and conceiving it as we learnt the engine. The blog itself is hitting its 4th birthday in February! Ressuflection’s development went on as i attended university, so its always been a side lined hobby of ours.Steam says 108 days worth of hours in the engine and most of the game progress other than concepts has been done in 2019. So I could say 4 years for the ideas/stories and concepts and a year of that for actual game making!

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *charlottezxz: We each have our own inspirations, Lost Odyssey, Final Fantasy 9, Xenoblade Chronicles, Monster hunter and many older PSX titles such as Medievil, Tomba and Heart of darkness are great influences and inspirations to me personally. The dark, dangerous environments of Heart of darkness contrasted by some innocent characters, the monster designs in capcom’s franchise and the storytelling and themes with a cinematic approach to cut scenes found in some of FF9, Xenoblade and Lost odyssey, a lost game stuck in the recess of the xbox 360. There are many more but these spring to mind first and foremost. Narrow himself draws inspiration from games such as Earthbound, the Persona series and FF10!

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *charlottezxz: We started the project in VX ace to begin with, until MV released. It was in Ace that I experimented learning RPG maker and in the early days of MV too. Although before Ressurflection’s time i also dabbled a bit in XP. MV seemed more in line for what we wanted, as i really wanted to try animating beyond SV sheets and do more, with Java being a bit more flexible and the scope of it being able to allow dragon bones later. However it hasn’t been without its hiccups! Part of that is the sheer amount of time you underestimate games and certain elements to take in their development. That and everything that comes with it, streamlining, trimming the fat...in the past week alone i spent days optimizing pictures, sounds and music in the game to cut down the staggering file sizes they were. So far they have retained their form without being as costly on the MB! Since I do the vast majority of the game development myself, everything takes a lot longer to develop. You underestimate all the little things to consider and that you may need later. By the end of development, I hope to have the vast majority of the game consist of custom assets and be able to truly call it something that is ours. Though that path is long ahead we won’t stray too far from it.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *charlottezxz: The game itself has always been a story-driven RPG at its heart, although certain game mechanics have been scaled down or developed further from puzzles to battle flow. As mentioned previously, the story has changed considerably which changed the direction of the overall narrative and gameplay as a whole. Certain characters and scenarios have been culled completely too. At its start the story wasn’t as heartfelt nor was the scope of the story all that big - Oh and the game had a time limit, a bit like Majora’s Mask! But it is a lot more meaningful now and we hope that you will enjoy it when the time comes.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *charlottezxz: It has been just myself and Narrow for the majority of the development but we reached a point where we wanted to reach out to find a musician for our game. We eventually came across Geoff who has done the majority of our music up until recently. However we have had friends help and contribute along the way such as Harry helping sprite some NPCs for me, Bart helping formulate and do some math balancing, Vaijack has also contributed to music making him our second musical boi and more on the way, our preliminary demo testers( it would take a little to list them all) and more peeps i’ll be sure to credit!

What is the best part of developing a game? *charlottezxz: For me it has to be conceptualising all the little ideas we have and bringing them all into being. This is especially so for any monster and character bois! I spend a lot of time visualizing and planning the design of areas, locales and creatures. Would this thing live here? Why would it be this way? If this is a historical town wouldn’t it have x and x? Then when we ultimately put it together, and all the pieces of the puzzle line into place and then you can just...experience, the final thing, that for me is the best part in developing our game for me.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *charlottezxz: I learn best by doing, so more often than not I just dive into things, including the engine blind and tussle around with it. It’s a silly way of doing it, but I've often found myself learning more that way than following tutorials. Although in any game I've played, RPG maker or not, i do like to ponder and deconstruct scenes within them. The Witch's house, Pocket Mirror, Dreaming Mary, Mad fathers and Ib are all wonderful games that are great to learn from, dissect and understand what makes and made them tick. This applies across any game I've played or intend to play! I look at game making as one giant puzzle with lots of intricate little details that need to be solved, it’s more fun and engaging that way!

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *charlottezxz: There’s some characters I like a great deal, but i can’t talk about as it would be spoilers to the plot, that and it’s hard to pick any overall favorites. Charm comes across as a fun character to write for as she’s quite witty and sarcastic, the kind of dialogue that comes a bit too naturally to me. She’s a budding magical prodigy of the circus under the tutelage of Jerine. She bigs herself up a lot but isn’t quite ready to deal with the problems of the adult world just yet, as much as she strives to get into it. Then there’s the likes of Ashley as well, she’s the loudest circus member and a close friend to Zakai, its ringmaster. She’s a super hard working down to earth country girl who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and jump into the thick of things. Honestly I love all the cast, but there’s those two for now!

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *charlottezxz: I would say ideally we should have had all our ducks in a row before we dove into development. My development style is very messy, especially since when we started development we had a lot of learning ahead of us. That combined with focusing on a lot of coursework and real life things meant I often forgot how we made things for consistency. This has improved considerably since i started getting more organised now, keeping lists and things tabbed for reference. My desk has bits of paper kept with it with information I need to retain. I forget far too many things for my own good, but now I'm taking better count measures! I would advise anyone to keep tabs of important information about your game such as consistent sprite style sizes, resolution size, x and y positions of certain things and important variables and switches.

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *charlottezxz: There’s a few ideas bounced about to do side stories for some of the cast of characters in the circus, such as before they became one and the origins of how certain members joined the circus essentially the ‘First Stringers’ and ‘Second stringers’, these being those that joined afterwards. These would be great to do as small little episodes added onto the game post development, but currently they are just ideas and won’t be given too much thought until the game is either done or close to fruition.

What do you most look forward to upon finishing the game? *charlottezxz: My most hopeful thought is for people to enjoy the game and have as much fun and interest in it as myself and Narrow have had in creating it. It’s the kind of game we want to make and hope that the characters and story chime with people enough for people to see the journey through to its end! It’s a big scope of a project but i have endless enthusiasm for it, no matter how long it takes it will get out there at some point!

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *charlottezxz: That the games story and overall feel doesn’t quite hit the right notes, it's always a little back concern. From a technical perspective I would say that the game might have some oversighted bugs or critical crashes that slip under the radar or not run as smoothly on other PCs on release. We will do our best to optimise the game as much as possible for MV and squash those pesky bugs during testing, but it is on our minds often as a niggling fear.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *charlottezxz: Gut everything from the base project that you know you most definitely will not be needing and give all your files smart tags and naming conventions. It would be great if MV allowed for sub folders, but it does not so naming your files smartly is key to finding what you need. Any of these files you know you will use often in certain ways, make them common events and call for those in events and cut scenes. This saves you mass editing them later. With naming conventions this could be Actor_1_Hurt or Chapter_1_NPC. Anything you want at the top of the list name it with _ to begin with. The bigger our project gets, the more important this has become for us and we hope it serves other inspiring devs well all the same.

Question from last month's featured dev @rojisroomrpg: How do you keep yourself happy and healthy when making your game? *charlottezxz: I’m normally a happy-go-lucky person, so I'm rarely not happy when working on Ressurflection. It's the happy little hobby I devote most of my spare time to. However, recently i would say my hands, wrists and neck have been hurting from spending a little too much time drawing assets and pieces for the game. Taking more breaks and spreading that time with other activities in between has helped to ease that pain and i would like to advise any dev to do so for their own health, including always having one or two bottles of juice, water or whatever beverage always at hand to sip at as you dev away!

We mods would like to thank charlottezxz for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Ressurflection if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#ressurflection #gotm #game of the month #rpgmaker #rpg maker #rpg maker games #ressurflection game #gotm 2020 #2020 #february 2020 #february #indie games #games

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eeemarvel · 4 years

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A rant for Hermione Granger

Alright. I know I’m a grown ass adult and the road I'm about to take you down has been travelled a thousand times over, but I have some things to say about Hermione Jean Granger and her lovely best friends. I’ll say that the passion I have for this subject was reignited when I reread the series (for the upteenth time) a few months ago. As I was reading, I began climbing a hill, and now that I’m on the top of this hill, I have decided that this is where I will die.

Hill: It made absolutely zero sense that Harry and Ron were Hermione’s best friends and she deserved far better.

I’m about to take you down a long, rambling, ranting, tea-induced journey, so buckle up.

Now, I am by no means saying that it made no sense that the trio were friends, because I’m a firm believer that people can have, relate to, and cherish all kinds of friends. But best friends??? Best friends are a bit different than “just friends” in my opinion. Best friends don’t just love and cherish you. They support your passions and never belittle them. They have many common interests with you and love spending time alone with you. They speak up for you when someone is disrespecting you/crossing a boundary, even if the person disrespecting you is a mutual friend. Harry and Ron constantly fell short on all accounts.

So obviously Harry and Ron care about Hermione. In the very first book, they risked their lives to make sure that a troll didn’t kill her in the bathrooms, which solidified their friendship. To me, the thing that kept them together through the years was pretty much plot armor. Besides that, I’d say it was their love of mysteries, figuring things out, getting to the bottom of things gone wrong at Hogwarts (more specifically, things gone wrong with Harry which is a friendship red flag, imo. If your friendship is held together by the events of one person’s life, that’s unhealthy. Yeah, he had a lot goin on and he was the boy who lived blah blah blah, but tell me about 3 times out of the whole series when Harry went out of his way to help Hermione with a problem that wasn’t related to him. We could make a flimsy case in which he does this for Ron, but the case is still flimsy.). Hermione usually fought against shenanigans but always ended up coming along for the adventure. She was just as much of a troublemaker as Ron and Harry. I don’t think she’d find too many people at Hogwarts besides Harry and Ron who were willing to illegally enter the restricted section with her to look at Tomes Moste Nasty (she did that alone, but I’m sure they’d be down to come with if she asked). So they do have a connection. I just think that it wasn’t a best friend connection.

Best friends support your passions and never belittle them. Y’all. I don’t care how silly the S.P.E.W. name was. I don’t care that house elves loved servitude. S.P.E.W. was for a good cause. Hermione’s heart was in the right place. It was definitely weird that wizards talked down on house elves and casually treated them like slaves. Hermione wanted to change that. She was clearly extremely passionate about it. And Harry and Ron never. Once. Supported her. They only joined so that they didn’t have to listen to her anymore. That’s not real support. They never even tried to have a respectful and open minded discussion about it because I do actually think that Hermione didn’t fully understand the relationship between house elves and wizards. I think the elves liked service. But cruelty should not be something that they accept from the people they serve. If Ron, who knew more about the wizarding world than his other friends, explained the relationship in a respectful way to Hermione instead of trying to make her feel like an idiot, it’s possible that she could’ve changed her organization’s goal. It was also kind of upsetting that they couldn’t have enough empathy to understand why this issue might be so important to her. I think that it’s possible that as a muggle-born, she felt sympathy for the elves who were being treated the way some wizards would want to treat muggle-born witches and wizards.They couldn’t think outside of themselves for a minute to consider why she was so passionate about this cause.

Side bar: It’s no secret that Hermione Granger is smart as a whip. Brightest witch of her age, she is. That’s why it baffled me that she took such an annoying and aggressive approach to recruiting S.P.E.W. members. From the way her efforts were written, it seemed as if she only shook a collection plate in people’s faces and shamed them for being ok with the treatment of house elves. She never explained how the money would be used. She never explained a plan of action. She didn’t explain the goals of her organization or how people could help. Nothing. That’s very un-Hermioneish if you ask me. This is the same girl who organized Dumbledore’s Army. She would’ve known exactly how to run that organization and exactly what their aims were. She would be able to explain it in a way that is appealing to people, in a way that makes people just as passionate about it as she is. Instead, she was written like an unholy hybrid of the one of the Salvation Army Santas and one of those “YOU’RE GOING TO HELL!” protestors that stand outside of universities. That’s not Granger. She was only written that way to make Ron and Harry look better, to give them an excuse for not being a good friend. And even then, it’s a piss poor excuse. You should be able to give your best friend constructive criticism. “You know, Hermione, you can catch more flies with honey. Why don’t you try…. Instead of….” Rational, fact minded Hermione would’ve welcomed this. Instead, Ron mocked her and the organization and Harry stayed quiet while he did it. They sucked for doing that. Fight me about it.

It didn’t sit right with me how much they ignored her whenever she talked about S.P.E.W. How openly exasperated they got with her. She rarely asked them for much. On the other hand, she was always checking their homework (I have my suspicions that she sometimes did it for them???? Ron made it seem that way. I could be remembering it wrong), always helping them with schemes, always coming to their rescue, and they couldn’t just. Listen to her. Mind you, her concern is that the elves are being subjected to slavery. Slavery is a pretty big deal. Even if that wasn’t exactly the case with the house elves, it wasn’t far off, and it was a cause worth being upset about, worth fighting for, especially since in the muggle world, slavery is a huge ass YIKES. They made her feel like her feelings weren’t at all justified. If my best friend made me feel like I was stupid for taking up a social justice cause and was constantly upset whenever I brought it up in conversation, she wouldn’t be my best friend anymore. Because that would tell me I couldn’t trust her with things that are close to my heart. It would tell me that there’s a possibility that she would belittle me for something I feel passionate about which is a bad, bad feeling. She’d most likely still be my friend… but not my best friend.

Best friends share common interests. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all like… magic???? Yep. That checks out. But Ron and Harry’s thing was quidditch. They related on another level too. They had the same sense of humor, they complained about the same things, and just got along pretty easily. They more or less had the same attitude towards school and reacted to things almost the same way. They don’t have much in common with Hermione though. They rarely joke about things together as a group without one person feeling weird/left out/exasperated. That aside, Hermione was passionate about knowledge. She loved school. She loved books. She loved intricate puzzles like arithmancy and runes. Those are very specific interests that I don’t doubt she would want to talk about. She was positively bursting at the seams in every class to answer a question because she loved the topic so much. And because, let’s face it, our girl’s competitive. She loved being smart. She loved being the smartest. That aside, her desire to be the smartest wasn’t the only reason why she always raised her hand in class. If that was the case, she could take literally any other class at Hogwarts, but she chose arithmancy and runes specifically. She likes the material. She could never talk about school with Harry and Ron without them complaining about how difficult and tedious their homework was. Again, that’s not their fault, because school isn’t fun for everyone. But school was a huge part of Hermione’s heart and she was written as a girl who’s best friends were two boys who didn’t really like working all that much. These are the people she hung out with the most yet the thing she loved the most was information and puzzles and knowledge and figuring things out and she COULD NEVER GEEK OUT ABOUT IT WITH THEM!

There’s a whoooooooooooole house dedicated to clever, precocious minds, but J.K. Rowling wants me to believe that Hermione didn’t have a single close Ravenclaw friend. Not a single Ravenclaw classmate that shared her passions, someone she could run to the lawn to talk in depth about their morning lecture with, to have debates with, to compare notes with, to joke about the way the textbook was written. Not a single one????? For someone as bright and perceptive as her, that must’ve been suffocating. Bright people like to talk to other bright people. They like competing with them. They like hearing their ideas. Even though Hermione was the brightest witch of her age, she wasn’t the only bright witch at Hogwarts. I’m sure there were plenty of students who would love to hang out with her and vise versa, but instead she’s written to always be around Harry and Ron who rarely ever talk about their classes unless it was to complain about them. Even Harry, who’s favorite subject was DADA, rarely geeked out about the subject the way she obviously does about so many other things. It’s the same way the other way around. Imagine if Harry was just as bright as Hermione and they always had in depth discussions about their classes and related to each other on a pretty deep level because of that shared passion. And then there was Ron. Ron who wasn’t that good at school and didn’t really care. Ron who loved quidditch and food but rarely got to talk about it with those two. Don’t you think he’d find someone to talk to about quidditch with???

When Ron was mad at Harry, he started hanging out with Dean and Seamus. When Harry was feeling weird and alone after Voldemort came back, he had Luna Lovegood. When Hermione was feeling alienated by her two best friends she…….. Went to the library???? And even when it seemed like she was making a new friend, Krum, the book made that new relationship about Ron and Ron’s feelings. Ron attacked her for getting close to Krum, saying that she was betraying Harry, and he only did that because he was feeling insecure. How. Is. That. Fair. People? I’m sure she liked Krum well enough to continue to be friends with him, and even if she didn’t, she didn’t deserve to be shamed for simply talking to him. Christ. The boy wrote long, heart-felt letters to her, and even if he wasn’t as bright as her, I’m sure the academic in her loved the gesture of putting feelings to paper, of choosing his thoughts carefully to craft them into a message that was special for her. Even if their relationship didn’t turn into something romantic, they STILL COULD’VE BEEN GOOD GOOD FRIENDS. It’s possible Krum had a passion for literature, something I’m sure Hermione could appreciate. I may be reaching, but that’s still one thing they have in common that she doesn’t have with Harry and Ron. It’s also important to note that Krum, though a bit aloof and moody around other people, opened up to people he became close with, like Hermione. He talked very enthusiastically with Hermione, and Hermione even described him as being kind. Thing is, what is it that Krum would talk about enthusiastically with Hermione? Quidditch? Most certainly not. Hermione couldn’t care less about the sport. Harry’s problems? I doubt Hermione is the type of friend to talk about her friend’s sensitive information to other people. So it must be something that Hermione likes or is equally enthusiastic about. Liiiiiike books and learning!! She had something in common with Krum and Ron made her feel bad about that. I think she turned down Krum’s invitation to visit him during the summer partly because she didn’t feel the same way about him and didn’t want to lead him on, and partly because her “best” friends didn’t really support her. When Harry kissed Cho and was confused about Cho crying during the kiss, who did he tell? Ron and Hermione. Hermione even gave him sound insight into what Cho was feeling so Harry would feel less lost. Hermione would never be able to do that with Krum. If she felt confused about something Krum did, who would she be able to tell about that with Ron being King DickaZoid about her having a relationship and Harry being a weird mute? She could scarcely tell them about her relationship with Krum because those boys were so damn WEIRD about it. Ron immediately got pissy when he suspected that Krum and Hermione were dating, and that sucks. She can’t talk to her best friend about her first real relationship. And because Ron was pissy, Harry shut down and was suddenly unable to talk to Hermione because he felt he would be betraying Ron. It’s not Hermione’s fault that Ron never confessed his feelings to her. ALSO, how tf is she supposed to know that he has a crush on her when his default is to be confused by her very existence? He was constantly baffled by the priorities she had. Constantly baffled by her love for school. Constantly baffled by the expectations she had for Harry and Ron, and that was at his best. Because when he wasn’t just downright confused by the things she did, he was belittling her. That’s why whenever he paid her a genuine compliment, usually for things she did for his sake, it was a huge deal. We were supposed to think that they had a thing going on just because Ron complimented her but. No. You should just compliment your friends when they do good things. Hype your friends up. Respect them on the regular. Instead, the norm was that it was rare for Hermione to openly explore a part of her life without specifically Ron taking issue with it and Harry feebly cosigning Ron’s bullshit. I digress, but the point was that Krum shared more common interests with Hermione than Harry and Ron did and Krum was just a minor character.

This is fine for normal friends. Normal friends don’t usually have a lot of common interests. But it’s rare for best friends. If Harry and Ron were just good friends that Hermione hung out with from time to time, things would be different. It would make sense that they didn’t like the same things. It would make sense if they only hung out because they just kind of got along and shared a traumatic experience that one time in their first year. It would make sense if she often got lunch with her “troll-in-the-dungeon” buddies in Hogsmeade to catch up and joke about their professors. It would make sense if after that lunch, Hermione went back to her best friend, probably some really smart Ravenclaw chick, and told her about her lunch with her troll buddies before diving into a long drawn out rant about a contradictory paragraph in her Ancient Runes textbook. Ravenclaw chick would be like “MERLIN’S BEARD, I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE!” and she’d rant too, and then they’d laugh, and talk about some other stuff, like their families or maybe Ravenclaw chick’s equivalent of “troll-in-the-dungeon” buddies. That would be Hermione’s best friend. She wouldn’t feel the need to keep her relationship with Krum a secret from this Ravenclaw chick. She’d be able to talk openly about her insecurities or her troubles to her best friend. For example, in the seventh book, Hermione had a pretty nasty bout of jealousy when Harry started doing better than her in potions. She really wanted Harry to come clean and get rid of the Prince’s textbook. I imagined that she was struggling with jealousy and guilt for feeling jealous and lashing out at her friend like that. She would want to talk to someone about it. Just imagine her trying to open up to Ron about that. “You’ve been a right foul, git, I’ll tell you that.” That’s about the picture of it, I’d say. A true best friend would hear her out, and offer sound, non judgemental advice so that Hermione could not only improve herself but also feel good about coming to that friend about negative feelings in the future. That friend could’ve been hypothetical super smart Ravenclaw chick who totally thought S.P.E.W. was a great idea.

And, I wouldn't be mad if over the course of the series, Hermione grew closer to Ron and Harry because she was concerned about them and wanted to help. But they still wouldn’t be her best friends. They would be friends that she cared about. And she would be helping them because they were fighting for a worthwhile cause, the defeat of Voldemort. It’s possible that this hypothetical Ravenclaw chick wouldn’t join them in the 7th book on their extended camping trip, but that’s to be expected. Hermione is a Gryffindor after all, and not many people would be willing to make the sacrifice that she made to be with Harry and Ron (she wiped her parents’ memories and set them up in Australia for Merlin’s sake. That’s bold. And scary.)

Best friends love spending time with you. I think Ron and Harry enjoyed Hermione’s company. The reason why I think that is because they are written to enjoy her company. But it is never actually explained why they enjoy her company. It’s just plot armor that’s backing this up. I think they were impressed by her intellect and drive, but those traits aren’t things that they all had in common. If you ask me, if these 3 existed outside of the context of the books, I’d say that the boys tolerated Hermione’s company because it’s not like they all shared common interests, the same humor, etc. She was also pretty useful to them for school. So yikes. Nonetheless, within the context of the books, they enjoyed Hermione. But Hermione was never really enough for them alone. You never really got scenes where Ron and Hermione met up with Harry after just hanging out and they were smiling and laughing together. The same is true with Harry and Hermione. When Harry and Ron were fighting and not talking to each other, Harry was always in a visibly bad mood, and lamented the fact that he had to hang out in the library with Hermione. He was always more emotionally affected by Ron’s absence in his life than he was when Hermione was absent in his life the year before when Hermione reported his new broomstick to Professor McGonagall (again, a friend trying to keep her friend alive, but whatever. Harry and Ron were constantly gas lighting Hermione which makes me feel like Hermione needed to have someone in her life to vent to about it. Someone who would understand her intentions or give her some kind of advice.) Harry and Hermione, who I feel like were more similar than Hermione and Ron, rarely spent time together and thoroughly enjoyed it, content with each other’s company and not yearning for someone else to be there. That’s not what it feels like to hang out with a best friend.

Later on in the series, we get the sense that Hermione and Ginny started to hang out, but it was implied that they only got close because Ginny had a crush on Harry and Hermione was giving her advice. I think this is kind of sad because Ginny is clearly bright. She’s fierce too. She’s not as book wormy as Hermione, and she’s kind of pranky like the twins, but she could’ve been best friend material for Hermione. But they were only just kind of friends because they spent summers together, they’re both girls, and Ginny has a crush on Hermione’s best friend. Hermione needs a healthy friendship that doesn’t revolve around the boys or her gender.

A best friend speaks up for you if someone is mistreating you, even if that someone is a mutual friend. Now, we all remember how Ron immediately whipped out his wand to curse Malfoy into next week for calling Hermione a mudblood. That plan backfired, but I’m glad he did it, and I’m glad he stopped puking up slugs. But, friends shouldn’t just defend you when you’re subjected to extreme offenses like slurs. Friends should defend you when you’re being mistreated or belittled. Ron often mistreated Hermione by mocking her, and Harry never once corrected Ron. He never once sat Ron down and was like “Hey, mate… I think you should lay off Hermione. You’re being kind of mean…” From the fourth book onwards, it was like Harry took a sacred vow of silence whenever Ron and Hermione argued, whenever Ron took it too far. And you know what? I kind of get it.

These are Harry’s first real friends and the only relationships he had in his life before Hogwarts were toxic and abusive. Even Ms. Figg made sure that he didn’t enjoy his visits with her because she thought that the Dursleys wouldn’t allow him to go back to her if they thought he enjoyed it. An ass excuse, if you ask me, but again. Whatever. Harry likely has zero idea how to handle conflict healthily. He definitely has 0 idea how to be a good friend. What bothered me is that he never tried to defend Hermione. Even if he blustered through it or felt awkward, he could’ve made it known that he didn’t approve of Ron’s treatment of Hermione. But he didn’t. And even though trauma likely made it difficult for Harry to resolve conflict, he handled it pretty gracefully in other situations. Snape, Malfoy, Dumbledore, Umbridge, literally anyone he had an issue with, he found a way to make his feelings known (See “There’s no need to call me sir, Professor,” and “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Lord Voldemort,” for more details). But when it came to speaking up on Hermione’s behalf? Crickets. If someone made fun of my best friend’s ideas, was constantly gaslighting them, or making them feel weird for their interests, I don’t care who they are, I would tell them to pump the brakes and apologize.

I actually think the trio could’ve treated each other much better, but Hermione constantly got the short end of the friendship stick. I think this is because their “best” friend relationship was forced and was therefore constantly under strain. They had this idea that they were “best” friends so obviously, they had to be interested in the same things (the boys’ sheer disbelief and outrage at Hermione’s indifference to quidditch and Hermione occasionally outwardly expressing interest in a school thing only to be met with blank, unenthusiastic stares). But they just weren’t best friends. I think they’re arguments are a result of them trying to force each other back into an ideal, a picture of what they thought their friendship to be, when they probably should’ve just accepted the fact that they were way too different to trust each other with things that went beyond the superficial stuff. I think you can be the polar opposite of your best friend, but you still have to love spending time with them, respect them, defend them when they’re being mistreated, and support their interests. Harry and Ron didn’t really do that.

They knew Hermione liked to stay in the library. They could’ve gone to find her to make sure she remembered to eat for the day because they know how easily she gets lost in books. I’m sure Hermione had a favorite book. Even if the boys couldn’t stomach reading the whole thing, they could’ve humored her and let her rant about it. They could’ve opened it to a random page, saw a person’s name, and say “This bloke. This bloke here. I don’t like him. Thoughts?” Even if they’re just being playful, they’re showing an interest in things she lovessssssss. They knew that Pansy Parkinson was constantly bullying her. Why didn’t we get scenes where they bashed Pansy and hyped Hermione up in turn? Hermione reassured Harry in the fourth year, telling him he was attractive and it was a no-brainer that girls fancied him. She also reassured Harry that it was likely his kissing skills were fine. She broke her own morals so that Ron could get on the quidditch team. What did Harry and Ron do to make sure that Hermione felt loved and validated????? I think that teenage boys often show affection and appreciation differently from teenage girls, but they still show affection and appreciation. They are still more than capable of it. Harry and Ron just didn’t do it unless Hermione had done something for them first.

Hermione deserved better. She deserved a real best friend. Harry and Ron were best friends. They were the peanut to the other’s jelly, the Merlin to their beard, the dung to their bomb. I still think that their friendship could’ve been improved, but hey. They were still undeniably best friends. Those 2 didn’t have that same connection with Hermione. I just think that considering everything Hermione has been through in the course of the series, she deserves someone that she could relate to without fear of being attacked or belittled.

Now please. Lay me to rest on this hill. I would like my tombstone to read, “Honestly, don’t you two read?”

#hermione granger #hermione #harry potter #harry #ron weasley #ron #hp #rant #not hero reform #not hr #i've been sitting on this rant for ages #idk why i'm like this

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mommydragon-of-all · 4 years

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A touch of warmth

Second piece of the “Longing” series.

He found himself staring at the main tower again. To his defense, a crow flew by him in that direction, and his eyes just remained lingering on the empty terrace.

The Inquisitor was busy. Has been for a long while now, or so it felt. Three days have passed since he got barricaded in his quarters, dealing with piled up “very important business”. Two and half days since Soren got banned from there by Josephine - which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but her stern tone was. By the guards’ apologetic looks he didn’t need to question them how serious she was still.

So here he was now, at the top of the closest tower, working on a special arrow. No, it was not a steel arrow with a long rope… not this time.

~Keep reading~

Soren decided it was everyone’s best interest not to sneak in. The guards’, Josie’s, the other ends of those businesses, and his Vhenan’s, judging by the resigned sigh he gave when his ambassador demanded Soren out. He could probably do without the distraction of having his lover around, to get progress with something so boring, even if Soren usually could offer great help with certain things. And His best interest was Soren's best interest too. It was that simple.

It didn’t mean that a little boost wouldn’t be beneficial though, like a small pouch of chocolate. He just had to get the composition of this arrow head right. Yes, he supposed he could just simply attach it to a normal arrow and break it on the wall above the terrace, landing the little package on the floor, but that lacked class so dearly.

He stood up with the latest version in hand and picked up the longbow he borrowed. Nocking the arrow he aimed at the battlements on the other side of his tower top, and released it, noting the weight and the arch. The bulky arrowhead hit the stone with a dull thud and stuck snugly. Soren smirked in triumph, nodding to himself. He was busy patting himself on the back mentally… when it started to slowly give, the material stretching under the weight of the shaft and test pouch, bending down, like the smirk on the elf’s face.

The viscous mass proved to be sticky enough though, he noted when he retrieved the arrow. A good portion of it refused to leave the stone, stretching long before finally snapping in two. “Interesting”, Soren murmured, returning to his little workspace. There were quite a few marks and sticky patches on that wall already. He’s been busy for a while now. He didn’t bother trying to scratch them down, even if he suspected that Aline would have a few choice words when she cleaned here. She always gets some extra coin from Soren for all the mess he makes, and she was used to worse, cleaning the top of the mage tower, or, Soren's watchtower as people called it for some reason… maybe because he spent so much time up here?

Soren decided to give this mixture “another shot”, pun absolutely intended, the silly thought bringing his lopsided smirk back. It seemed to have great potential, given a bit more time to dry before use. He stuck a good chunk of the stuff on two other arrowheads, and put them down to dry a bit. With nothing to do, his eyes wandered back to the main tower.

A sigh escaped his chest, for the umpteenth time today, followed by a small grimace. He shouldn't be this pathetic. He was used to being pushed aside for better or more important things to do, used to being sidelined, neglected even, by people he loved and thus probably hung on too much. He was exhausting to keep up with, he was told often, the excitement of novelty wearing off and leaving fatigue in its place. His devotion resulted in his services and presence upon call being taken for granted, which led to even more neglect. Not to mention that below all the fun and generosity he was quite a work cut out for anyone who cared to get closer, and other things to spend time on soon started to be more appealing to them. Not that Soren could blame anyone but himself for it, yet it still hurt more than he cared to admit.

But this was different, and it painted him even more laughable. He wasn’t neglected or pushed aside by his lover’s free choice even. That would probably justify at least a bit of his dejection. No, his Love was busy and he couldn't help it, he was doing his best to fulfill his duties, making the world a better place, and Soren understood it. He really did. He was proud too, doing his best to support. It wasn’t a big deal and it wasn't going to go on for months or something, without a moment to spare for Them. But Soren’s heart didn't think, it just felt. Stupid, stupid organ.

His hearth burned for the man more than he could have ever imagined possible, and thus it also ached for him impossibly so. Being apart felt like finally having a home but unable to return to it. A restlessness settled into his bones.

It's been only a few days and he was already this miserable! He was being ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. When he stopped moving for just a moment, the distress caught up with him.

Leaning on the battlements he started to rub his hands together, rolling down some stray bits of sticky substances in various stages of drying. The purple stuff looked nice, he mused, a color favored by his dear. Sadly that composition proved to be a complete failure two tries ago.

He rarely went gloveless, for his senses had become too keen, and accidental touches often bothered him. If by chance he cracked a nose or something he didn't want to know how the muckspout's skin felt like, thank you very much. Even worse would be the scraps and bruises he would get from his weapons or moving around bare handed. He preferred reaching his destination as quickly as possible, even if it meant climbing and jumping, and that involved his hands too. But he was alone here, his tinkering always needed his deft fingers unhindered, and dealing with stuff like this was more practical bare handed. Cleaning leather was harder than cleaning hands.

But soon there was no more clinging bits to fiddle with and checking the arrow heads proved that they weren't quite ready yet either. Bracing on the battlement he gazed down, counting in his head how many magical artefacts he had on him that needed more tinkering, and if he could have any part done in the short time the arrowheads still needed to dry for. It was barely worth starting on any, he grimaced. Then he made the mistake of glancing up again.

He saw a shadow move behind the tall windows of the Inquisitor’s quarters. His breath caught, eyes widening a fraction, then… nothing happened. The terrace door remained tightly shut. He felt a pang in his heart, a weird beat, pumping out something cold. ‘No, stay strong, you hopeless idiot!’ he scolded himself, shaking his head, eyes closing tight.

Suddenly, a bright light seeped through his closed eyelids, a warmth engulfing him softly. The sun broke through the looming clouds and bathed the towers of Skyhold in a golden flood, painting brilliant colors on the intricate windows of the main tower and licking the top of the mage tower, warming Soren’s exposed skin gently. He didn't even realize the cold soaking into his hands. How strange. His altered body running on a bit higher temperature than what was considered normal usually ensured his skin newer getting cold, at least not from mildly chilled air. At any rate, the golden blanket felt really nice right now.

It reminded Soren of another golden blanket, a warmth from another source. It brought a smile on his face, sweet and tender. With closed eyes, he could almost see a familiar hand sliding onto his own. It didn't matter that his own skin was ever the warmer, his lover’s touch always felt like molten gold. He could almost feel his lover standing close behind him, embracing him. A light breeze tickling his neck made him shiver.

He huffed, ‘he really was being pathe-….’

Soren’s eyes snapped open, sharp, an ear twitching back, body already turning with it, hands ready. He relaxed in the next second though, snorting at himself. He was so lost in his own head that he got alarmed by movement, in the heart of Skyhold. The person climbing the stairs towards the room below him obviously wasn't even trying to sneak, there was nothing suspicious about their movements. Even if they wore soft shoes, their steps were too carefree. A young man most likely, Soren thought with an inclined head: soft clothes yet decent weight, heavier on the soles, long stride with a bit of spring, big foot… Soren waited curiously, leaning against the stone bricks as the person crossed the room and started to climb the ladder.

The heavy hatch opened slowly, pushed up carefully as if not to startle the rogue up there. Nobody wanted a flying dagger in their face. Soren smirked. The guy seemed to know his way around honed reflexes, but he didn't know the extended reach of Soren’s senses. Not a mage then. They were used to Soren seemingly notice *everything* they did in that tower - and rubbing it in at any chance for fun.

A dark mop of hair poked up from under the hatch, followed by a similarly dark pair of eyes. He jolted when they met Sorens watching gaze. Soren found it kind of amusing. With the obvious care the man took to be quiet and slow he should have expected to be observed. Soren flashed an easy grin at him.

“Hey there. Can I help you... Eladio?”

The young human was even more surprised now, being called by his name. He was a relatively new helping hand of the healers that Soren met briefly two times total, and have newer spoken with. He learned his name from one of the nurses, and that he was originally from Antiva. It was a curious detail, and Soren usually poked his nose in everyone's business within the first week at least, from generals to the last chambermaid. He fully intended to fish Eladio’s story out of him too, but… he was quite distracted lately, keeping his nose in one particular honey jar most of the time. Oh well, no time like the present.

“Master Elan sent me, sir, she told me I would find you here.” the young human started quietly, climbing out on top carefully. Soren waved him off with a laugh.

“Oh come now, don't call me sir, it makes me feel old.”

Eladio reddened and nodded, looking down, visibly not knowing how to carry himself. He was barely younger by a couple years than himself, Soren guessed, around twenty or so, and yet how much difference their life experiences put between them. The other acted quite boyish beside Soren, and it indeed made him feel older than his years.

“So, what does our dear apothecary want me for?” Soren helped him out with a softer tone. “Is this about some missing Dragonthorn, perhaps? Wouldn't know anything about that!"

“I don't believe so, sir…” Eladio started, uncertain how to take that blatant self-incrimination. Soren narrowed his eyes at him. “...um, Soren.” To the answering satisfied smile he continued, a bit braver:

“I assume it is about the Crystal Grace flowers.”

Oh. “What about them?” Soren arched a brow, playing the ignorant, poorly so. “They found their way onto the Inquisitor’s desk, apparently, and master Elan isn’t happy about it. At all.” Eladio tried to hide a smile.

“Did they, now?” Soren asked, not bothering to stop his wide spreading grin. The doorman played the secret delivery boy well, hiding the bouquet under his cape, just as Soren believed he would.

But then a realization hit Soren like a bull. “Wait a minute! What was the apothecary doing up there? Why was she needed?” He strode up to the young human and almost grabbed him by the shirt to shake the urgent information right out of him, forgetting all about not startling the skittish boy with his boisterous ways.

“She - she m-mixed her own blend of e-energy tea I recall” he spluttered with wide eyes, bending backwards. But Soren was out of his face as instantly as he got there.

“You sure nothing else?” the elf threw back above his shoulder as he walked back to the battlements, snatching his long gloves from his belt and pulling them on.

“I think so…” Eladio hesitated.

“Newer mind, I’ll ask her myself.” He picked up the longbow and an arrow, turning back towards the confused human, nocking it. “Just one thing first…”

The errand boy yelped and jumped aside, but he relaxed a bit when the bow didn't follow his movement. The arrow hit the stone wall with a dull thud and it just… stuck there. Soren watched it with narrowed eyes, as if daring it to bulge. It did not. The elf went to check on it closely, and the human tentatively followed, curious about the strange thing. Soren pulled at the arrow, pushed it to a few directions, but it barely gave. That clearly satisfied him. As he turned to go back to his previous position, Eladio gingerly poked at the grey substance sticking the arrow to the stone, wondering what use the assassin had for such an arrow.

He got his answer right away as he turned around in time to see Soren tying a small pouch to the other arrow then filling it with some dark brown bits from a napkin. “Chocolate.” Soren grinned, winking at him. With a final tug at the cord he nocked the weird arrow and turned towards the main tower, pulling the string back all the way with surprising ease, and aimed high, up to the Inquisitors balcony. Eladio suddenly understood why master Elan sent him straight here after she accidentally found the stolen flowers. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a grin, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Soren took a moment to calculate and aim carefully. He wasn’t that good with a bow, much less while compensating for added weight, but his target was big enough, the wall behind the broad balcony allowed a large margin of error. A large margin that he managed to completely miss a few weeks before. Oh, the snickering spread like wildfire in Skyhold, after the flunked release resulted in an arrow with a pretty lewd note attached to it falling gracelessly into the laps of a few soldiers, almost literally. Well, at least they had a good time, and if it was on Soren’s expense, he newer minded that.

While some of his old mentors would bang their heads - or rather, Soren’s head- into this very stone wall for that pathetic shot, the young rogue didn’t spare it much thought. He preferred up close and personal in everything, especially fighting. He had no patience for long ranged weapons or traps, so he only learned the minimum he needed on rare occasions, and let it rust. Lately he found reason to oil his ranged skills a bit though, as like with many other knowledge and skill developed for assassination, like knowing many secrets of the body, he found a way to use it for bringing pleasure too. For such things, he had all the patience in the world. He found it was also much worth it, to boot.

The arrow flew in a wide arc across the distance, hitting the wall behind the balcony and sticking there, nice and firm. Perhaps a bit higher than Soren intended, but it was well within reach. A fairy decent shot, Soren nodded to himself, satisfied with his work.

“Ok, let’s go. I have questions for Elan.” he announced, putting the bow on his back. He had to return that thing, and he might as well drop by on the way to the gardens.

As he waited for the other to climb down carefully, he looked back to the terrace and his enhanced vision picked up on that shadow appearing again, but this time it got closer, the colorful glass tilting… and there he was, poking his head out the door, looking around. Searching for the source of the thud, no doubt. He found it shortly, staying still for a long moment. Soren’s grin hurt his face. There was something adorable about it, that he couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was the apparent momentary confusion upon seeing yet another of Soren’s inventive presents. It was exhilarating, seeing his surprise … impact. Pun absolutely intended, as per usual.

The Inquisitor opened the door wider, stepping out, but instead of trying to reach up to the small package, he got closer to the railing, looking down, searching. It didn't take long to Spot Soren’s bright red head under the golden sunlight, as he stood upon the mage tower, his usual spot. Soren gave a playful fancy bow, throwing a kiss with a grand gesture at the end, grin shining brighter than the sun.

Then he oh so casually stepped into the open hatch and dropped down, exiting his impromptu stage with roguish class. He only wished he could see his lover's face in reaction to that, but he supposed he was somewhat used to Soren’s stunts by now. Unlike Eladio, who yelped and jumped back when Soren suddenly dropped down the ladder, boots on either side of it pressed just enough to turn the fall into a slide.

“So…” Soren started, patting the boy’s shoulder, completely disregarding his bewilderment. “... how did you end up in our merry little horde?”

Soren listened to the life story he was coaxing out bit by bit on the way down a little distractedly, thinking back at the figure on the terrace. He was going to see him soon, talk with him, embrace him... Until then, the ghost of a lingering touch stayed with him.

#can read as stand alone #longing series #longing #soren lavellan #dragon age oc #soren romance #lavellan x inquisitor #my art #my writing #evakaname art

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