#I already play so fast and loose with the designs I think they still read just fine haha

[diadraws]

Can you make your own season 6 design of ladybug cat noir rena rouge and carapace for the spoilers we got

I’ll probably do more fanart and designs for MLB once season 6 or a new special comes out! :-] but as an aside I try to avoid leaks or spoilers as best I can, so please don’t send me any!

That being said I did *accidentally* have a small peek at them. I don’t know if I’ll change my current way of drawing any of them since the differences in the new looks seem to mainly be revamps to the show’s overall style, which is already not very applicable to my own drawings haha X)

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[togglessymposium]

Reminded, distantly, of a reading program my (public) school had in 5th grade. The deal was this- you'd read a book from the school library, then answer a short quiz about it. In retrospect this was a fairly amazing feat, I have no idea how they wrote a quiz for most of the books in their library, but they almost always had one. If you could demonstrate reading comprehension with the quiz, you got a certain number of points, and the points could be spent on concessions and prizes.

At the low end this was the sort of eraser/pencil/sticker stuff you'd expect, but at the high end they offered days off from school. It took around 10-15 books' worth of points, but every six week period they'd load up a small bus with whichever kids bought the prize, take them to the mall, buy them pizza, and set them loose in the arcade all day.

(This is at least a third of the reason why I'm still so fond of the Redwall book series.)

Anyway, the point is that I think many challenges faced by schools these days follow not from the multiplicity of functions they serve or the tension between those functions, but from the fact that everyone is devoted to the polite fiction that they're purely educational, and that all this other stuff is secondary. Most of the times I was happiest in school- and, indeed, the times I felt most seen and respected in school- were when the teachers and powers that be acknowledged that they didn't really have much to teach me, and offered a safe, comfortable space to hang out, explore my interests, and make friends. A universal program of education means that some kids are simply going to exhaust the utility of the school's education mission almost immediately, and every kid is going to experience the classroom as basically Procrustean, and it's basically fine to fill 20% of the classroom with a pile of pillows and a bookshelf as an overflow plan to accommodate these differences.

If we decide that prison-for-kids is basically a socially desirable thing, then I suspect we'd be in a much better place if we collectively acknowledged that education is one of the things that this institution does, instead of trying to smuggle in all these other important functions while pretending that everybody needs the same six hours a day to reach competency in writing or mathematics. By all means, set minimums on educational attainment and make sure each cohort is capable of meeting specific milestones- and even provide parallel tracks for students and families that want to fast-track academic and technical careers- but don't treat 'down time' as the enemy either. We bow to this a little bit already, with e.g. recess periods, but those are currently framed as a sort of lunch break from school.

Instead, something very much like recess (though not just outdoor play, with indoor game and toy rooms as well) seems like it should be the default at 'the thing no longer quite called school', with that kind of unstructured play being interrupted by structured learning periods. Instead of torturing the definition of 'classroom' enough to make 'P.E.' a thing, just actively encourage sport, have official teams in a variety of games, and include physical fitness checks as part of the kids' yearly progress assessments. Get comfortable with field trips not just to museums, but also to places like public pools or even movie theaters, for no other reason than that they're fun. You can certainly construct this environment in a way that's slanted towards high achievement and personal growth, without needing to point towards education as the sole source of legitimacy. If you're gonna make a public institution designed to collect and safeguard kids during their parents' working hours, to prevent them from being economically exploited during crucial developmental periods, to provide a check on abusive home environments, to provide them cross-cultural socialization experiences, then by all means- but build that in to the foundation of the thing.

Oh, boy! It's Education Theory o'Clock again!

...I have a lot of thoughts on this topic. At some point, when I'm less busy and tired, I should probably try to write them up. Natively, I'm one of the school-is-a-nightmare-prison people, like so many others in this little discourse-sphere -- but I'm married to a middle school teacher, so I regularly encounter both the good arguments from the other side and the facts on the ground, and those things have altered my perspective somewhat.

But I am, in fact, busy and tired. So for now I'll just content myself with saying:

School is an institution that serves many, many, many purposes at the same time. A lot of those purposes are load-bearingly important. (A couple of years ago, I wrote this about college, and...it's double-plus true for primary and secondary schools.) If you don't try to account for all of that stuff in your theory of What School Is and How School Works, you will generate incoherent garbage thoughts. If you have a New Concept for school entailing top-down design that is optimized for a single function (like "increasing test scores" or "causing kids to love learning" or whatever), you'd better have a plan for how you're going to do all the other important things that schools do. And even if you think that some of those things aren't actually important or necessary, you'd better have a plan for dealing with all the people who disagree. Because...

-----

...school, as it exists today, is an inherently political institution. Both in the "soft" sense that everyone has strong opinions about what it's supposed to do and how it's supposed to work, and in the "hard" sense that it is actually controlled by democratically-accountable governments. (This is double-plus true in the US, where it is controlled by local governments, and therefore doesn't even have the protective insulation of a massive bureaucracy.) Everything about the way schools work is a compromise brokered amongst ideologues and self-dealers. Everything about the way schools work involves a lot of decision-makers trying not to get yelled at by the yelliest people around. If you're looking for elegant purpose-driven top-down design, you won't find it. You could probably make a case that any elegant purpose-driven top-down design would be better than the thing we actually have, but getting there would require finding a way to remove the political element.

-----

Most importantly: public schools are (1) compulsory, (2) universal, and (3) for children. [People who are legally children, anyway, whether or not they are actual children in whatever sense matters to you.]

This means that they cannot let students leave, and they have to keep control of all the students that they aren't allowing to leave.

In the most literal not-a-judgment-but-a-fact sense, they are indeed prisons. They are coercively keeping people inside. They have to do that thing, as per their most fundamental mandate within the current system. The alternatives involve letting kids run around unsupervised, and/or failing to give some kids even the most cursory kind of education, and those things are absolute non-starters under present conditions.

All the normal institutions-for-adults operate on the principle of -- If you really don't want to be here, you can leave, and deal with whatever consequences there may be for leaving. This is not an option for schools, and that fact accounts for...everything.

Classroom structure is built around the necessity of keeping the most-hostile, least-engaged student in the class present and supervised, and then trying to prevent him from disrupting things for everyone else. Because the obvious solution that any other institution would use -- "just cut him loose, he doesn't want to be here and we don't want him here" -- isn't available.

(I once talked to my wife about the rationed bathroom access thing, which is one of the most flagrant nightmare-prison aspects of the school experience. Her response was, "If you let kids use the bathroom whenever they want, as much as they want, then you don't have mandatory universal education anymore. Some of them will never return to the classroom, because they don't want to be there." Which is...obviously true.)

So you have something that replicates many of the features of prison, because it has to accomplish the same basic tasks that prison accomplishes. Yay, Foucault.

[anyoneseenadam]

azriel x reader mates

slow dancing plzz that would be so cute

Pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

Warnings: mentions of scars but asides from that just pure studio ghibli inspired fluff

A/n: I had this idea agessss ago and then forgot abt it but this anon reminded me!! I used Home!Az for this but you don’t need to read the series to understand it I don’t think, it’s just for world building and stuff. I’m also linking the song I imagined for it :)) hope you enjoy!!!! (Also I’m too tired to proof read so sorry if it’s shit)

——————————————————————————

You woke up to Azriel pressing kisses into your neck, his hands softly trailing along your body, so gently as if you were made of glass. You had been with him for almost a year now, the rings glinting on your hands when they caught the light, and the scars on your back no longer a weight. Instead something you showed freely, as a symbol of your strength.

You cracked open an eye and watch as Azriel lifted his head with a soft smile, a scarred hand coming to caress your face.

“Happy birthday flower,” he whispered and you giggled, kissing him deeply, no longer surprised at how easily the smile came onto your face.

“Mmm morning handsome,” you said, pushing up on your forearms as Az arranged the pillows behind you for you to lean against. He settled beside you before passing you a steaming mug of black coffee, picking up his own as he kissed your shoulder, the tip of one of the scars, your neck, cheek, and then finally mouth. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you snuggled into his side, sipping your coffee and sighing in content at the taste.

“Why are you up so early?” You asked, head tilting to look at him, swathed in shadows and with the light stubble you had come to find out grew back pretty much every third day. He ran a hand over his chin before answering.

“Had a couple things to prepare,”

“What are you preparing for?” You asked and he looked at you, horrified.

“Your birthday of course,”

“Oh yeah, whoops,”

“How did you already forget?” He asked frowning slightly, this was the first birthday he got to celebrate with you and he was determined to make it special but you didn’t seem to fully remember it was a celebration.

“It’s like 8am leave me alone,” you elbowed him in the stomach and he laughed.

“Actually it’s half seven but I’m on strict orders to have you at the town house by eight,” you frowned and he kissed you gently, taking your mug from your hands and putting it on the bedside table.

“But that gives me at least twenty minutes to make you fall apart.” He smirked wolfishly as he settled between your legs.

—

It was half eight by the time you arrived at the town house, legs slightly aching and Azriel smug as a thief.

After a slight telling off from Rhys, filled with warm expressions and then a five minute hug from Cassian followed by a ten minute hug from Mor, you were sat around the table. The plates in the middle were filled with pancakes and fruit, mugs of steaming coffee and glasses of fresh juice. There were flowers in the middle of the table and blue and gold balloons designed in an arch. You had cried when you saw it and had another long hug, this one from Feyre, Azriel and Rhys dragging you apart.

After you had eaten, head already slightly lighter from the champagne Mor had lovingly filled your glass with, you sat around the living room as you opened your presents.

You cried much more than you probably should have, overly emotional because of the kind family you had found.

Feyre had gifted you a long, sage green dress that you swore you recognised, she winked at Azriel as you opened it and you furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what they were up too.

You were given books, weapons, expensive jewellery from Amren (who decided you needed more than the crystals you kept around your neck) and enough drink to last you a lifetime, or maybe a week or two from the way Cassian was eyeing it up.

When you were finished opening your presents, none from Azriel who had sparkling eyes as he watched you, his family as in love with you as he was.

“I’m presuming you two are heading off now, what time will you be back do you think?” Rhys asked, waving his hand to dispose of the wrapping paper that was piled around you.

“We are?” You turned to face Azriel and he grinned at you.

“We are, but we’ve to get changed first. You should wear that dress,” he nodded to the green one in your lap and you smiled at Feyre.

“That’s a good idea, am I getting told where we’re going?” You asked and he just shook his head, standing as you laughed and went to hug your friends goodbye.

“We’ll probably be back around 7.” Azriel told Rhys.

“Okay well enjoy!” You finished hugging Nesta as Azriel wrapped an arm around your waist, winnowing you back to your home.

“Go get changed, you won’t need a jacket, I’ll meet you gear in half an hour,” he kissed you lightly before shoving you off in the direction of your room gently, and you giggled, excited to find out what he was planning.

—

Thirty minutes later you were stood in your new dress, your hair down and some simple brown pumps on. You saw Azriel walk towards you, holding a picnic basket in one hand as you gaped at him.

“You look so good, holy fuck!” You exclaimed, he was wearing his usual black trousers but had a loose, white shirt tucked into them, and upon further inspection an earring with a dangling emerald hanging from one ear, his face freshly shaven. “Since when have you had your ears pierced?” You asked and he laughed.

“Since yesterday, never trust Cassian with delicate things,” he joked and you furrowed your eyebrows, still confused what he was doing. “Have you got your phone?” He asked and you nodded, your phone, speaker and Polaroid camera tucked carefully into a bag you had slung over your shoulder.

“Perfect, let’s go,” he grabbed your hand and before you could ask where he was taking you he had winnowed the two of you away.

You took in your surroundings, tears forming in your eyes as you realised what was going on.

You were stood in a green pasture, the sun whinging brightly above you, a stream flowing past you and the ground completely covered in flowers. You turned to Azriel as you took in his outfit.

“I do listen when we watch movies,” he said as you let out a choked sob, “Now (y/n), may I have this dance,” he held out his hand as he took your phone from his bag, playing the theme from howls moving castle as you nodded, taking his hand as it came through the speaker you had brought.

He kept his wings flared behind him as he twirled you around, the dance fast but intimate, you felt like you were flying as he twirled you around, your dress floating in the breeze as he spun you gently. He lifted you above him at one point as you moved together, watching you with so much love before dipping you as the song ended, kissing you deeply.

When the song ended he wrapped his arms around your waist as your linked around his neck, swaying you slowly to the song. You could feel his heart beat against your own chest, interlinking you fingers and allowing the flowers that were surrounding you to grow and bloom.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth as he grinned, kissing you gently.

“Happy birthday baby,”

He stepped back to the picnic basket and lay out the blanket and food, helping you sit down as you leaned against him, taking a Polaroid of the two of you and hiding it in the basket to let it develop while Azriel stared in wonder at the technology.

“Let me give you your presents.” He said in between feeding you chocolate strawberries and you turned to him with wide eyes.

“There’s more?!”

“Of course baby, gotta treat my best girl,” he pulled a selection of neatly wrapped boxes from another bad he had brought and you smiled as you bit into a bit of baklava.

You opened a set of of deep blue lingerie first, gasping at the intricate material and looking up to see him watching you with a devilish smirk. The you found a collection of books from his world he thought you would love, more candles and crystals.

The final box wasn’t wrapped like the rest however, instead it was a plain cardboard box that said ‘from pepper’ in black writing on the top and you gasped.

“You didn’t!” Your eyes were wide as he laughed.

“Open it!” He demanded and you felt your heart pound as you carefully opened the box, pulling out another glass box which contained Tony Starks arc reactor, the words “proof that Tony stark has a heart” engraved in as your eyes watered.

“I had it made after we finished endgame,” he explained as you leapt on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, for everything,” you whispered into his neck and he kissed your head. Holding you tightly for the rest of the afternoon, red wine flavoured kisses on sun kissed skin. The two of you lay in each other’s arms, Azriel taking you apart slowly under the sun, then flying you over the hills as you squealed, gripping close to him as he dipped and twirled.

When it was finally time to retire for the day he held you closely, the picnic basket clutched in one hand as you balanced your gifts in your arms, kissing you deeply and winnowing the two of you home. You placed your gifts down gently on the bed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting gently upon your shoulder as he kissed your neck. You turned in his arms, facing him and kissed him again.

“I love you, more than anything,” you whispered against his mouth.

“I love you more,” you giggled at him as you pulled away, ready to spent the night with your new family, your beloved mate holding you close.

[itsallyscorner]

Ally!! could you write something from that video you reblogged of getting to know Tom before shooting a film with him! ♥️ You would write it so beautifully :) of course take care of yourself first but whenever you are ready!!

Thank you for requesting this love!!🥰 I was going to save it for last and do my requests in order, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about this request, so here I am! I hope you like it!!💜✨

💌.

Getting To Know You

This is long, I probably overdid it, but I hope you all enjoy!🥰

(GIF credits @thollandgifs )

You wander the halls of the studio, walking down long hallways, turning corners, and eyes scanning each sign on the doors of the rooms. You look back down to your phone, skimming through the email the costume department had sent you. Costume Design / Wardrobe — Room 220. Sighing, you glance at the door beside you, Production Design — Room 125. You mentally cursed at yourself for taking so long to get to the studio. You had just arrived in Cleveland, literally just that morning. After a lengthy flight to Cleveland, you were escorted to the house that you would be calling home for the next several months. There waiting for you was a rented car and the belongings that you had packed from home to be delivered to your rented house. Since the house was already decorated and furnished, there was no need in packing all your furniture from home, instead you shipped clothes you couldn’t fit in your luggage and other important belongings that would be difficult to bring onto a flight.

The moment you stepped foot into the house you didn’t bother looking around or going through the boxes that were stacked near the entrance. You made a quick trip to the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a majority of it. The house was spacious but not a hassle to get around, you peaked into a few rooms until you found the bedroom. Removing your shoes, you pulled back the neatly tucked comforter and climbed into the soft bed. Your eyes were already drooping the moment your head hit the pillow. Before sleep can consume you, you turned on an alarm on your phone about an hour and a half prior to the time you were expected to be at the studio.

You were used to traveling to new places due to your job as an actress. Renting out homes and cars for months on end was nothing new to you. Neither was figuring out your way around the new state or country you were currently living in. Though Cleveland was different; you had a GPS to tell you directions to the studio but you were still getting lost, making wrong turns and taking wrong lanes on the highway. Stopping by Starbucks for an iced coffee and croissant to fill you up didn’t help, instead it added on to your reason being late.

You were still roaming the halls with your head tilted down to stare at your phone. The stress from being behind schedule mixed with your sleep deprivation created a headache to pound in your head. Suddenly, your shoulder harshly knocks into something. You yelp, apologies already spilling from your lips as you continue your rush to the costume department—wherever it was.

“(Y/n)?” A familiar voice with an accent asks. Your shoes come to a halt on the carpeted floors of the studio. Your head whips back to see the warm brown eyes you were once staring into during that audition how many months ago.

“Tom!” You exclaim making your way back to him. You were taken aback by his appearance. The last you saw him he was buffer and had a head full of soft dark brown curls. His body was thinner, cheeks a bit more sunken in, and his curls were long gone replaced with a buzzcut. Though you should’ve expected his change in appearance, you guys were playing heroin addicts for crying out loud. You had also been put on a diet in preparation for your role as Emily, loosing a fair amount of weight yourself.

“Hey, you’re here! I didn’t know you were in Cleveland already. How long have you been here?” He asks, arms pulling you in for a friendly hug. You happily accept the gesture, hugging him back.

“Umm, I actually just got here this morning.” You answer once you both pull away. His eyes widen for a second, “And they already called you in? For fittings right?”

“Yeah, I thought I’d have a day to settle in but we’ve got a tight schedule. Filming starts soon—like in a month and a half?” Though filming didn’t start till the next month or so, the Russo brothers wanted both you and Tom to be in Cleveland a month earlier. This was to help with pre production preparations. It was also used to help you and Tom do research for your roles in Cherry and to get to know each other.

Tom looks at the wall with a raised brow, “Uhh, something like that, yeah.” His eyes flicker back to you, “Where are you off to?”

“To wardrobe, but I can’t find the place and I’m already running late.” You sigh.

“Well, lucky for you, I just came from there. I’ll take you.” He offers, raising his elbow out for you. You smile at him, looping your arm around his and quietly thank him. He leads you to the wardrobe department and drops you off; exchanging a quick joke with the ladies and another hug for you before leaving.

You remember the day you met Tom. You were called back from your audition to do a chemistry read with the lead role of Cherry, who at the time you didn’t know was Tom. Your nerves were at a high that day. You’ve made it so far into the audition process that you hoped your anxiousness wouldn’t get the best of you and mess it up. As an actor, you were used to meeting new faces all the time, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have anxiety when it comes to meeting new people. Questions wracked your brain. What if you didn’t have chemistry with the lead role? What if you did have chemistry but the lead role was a dick? Does your breath smell good? Are your clothes too casual? What if you have to kiss the lead role? What kind of scene were you guys doing?

All your questions and feelings of uneasiness were thrown out the window the moment you saw Tom’s friendly face. He greeted you as if you were long time friends. That sweet smile of his made the tension in your body at ease, it was kind and warm, like it was his silent way of comforting you after picking up on your nerves. Tom was a force in the room, his cheerful and optimistic energy radiating off of him and onto the other people in the room. Maybe that’s why you felt so comfortable to be around him during the chemistry read.

He was very welcoming, taking it upon himself to spark a conversation with you while the casting directors and producers prepared themselves for your chemistry read. You remembered the way he naturally leaned closer to you, bending down a few times to hear you, his eyes remaining on yours while you conversed, the both of you aware of each other’s presence. You weren’t going to lie to yourself; Tom was attractive. He had gorgeous brown eyes that you could never get tired of looking into, a charming smile, and a beautiful personality. He was easy to get along with. The chemistry read ended with smiles from everyone in the room. You remember thinking to yourself, if you were going to be casted, you wouldn’t mind being casted alongside him. Weeks of sitting around and patiently waiting, you get a call from the Russos saying you were casted as Emily.

Fittings only took an hour tops, most of the clothes were bought since there was no need in designing fancy or sparkly costumes. Before leaving the studio building, you had a quick meeting with the Russos. It was mostly about the basic stuff, the run down of the schedule, the filming process, preparations, etc. By the time you were done at the studio, the sun had set and the night sky took over Cleveland. You stopped by a fast food chain for dinner and took it to go. You drive home, eat your food, and your night ends there.

The next time you saw Tom wasn’t that long from when you saw him at the studio. He called you days later, asking if you would like to join him at the VA. As someone who had no experience with drugs or were surrounded by people who faced addictions; drugs was a new territory for you. Of course, you’ve heard about it and learned the basics of it at school, but you’ve never had to act like a heroin addict. Until now.

You drive to the VA on an early Thursday morning, this time not getting lost on your way to your destination. The air was chilly, the sky dark and cloudy after braving a storm. You park your car and send a text off to Tom saying you’ve arrived. You meet up at the entrance of the VA. He was dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. His attire similar to yours, which made you chuckle to yourself. He greets you with a hug, his arms brining you warmth from the cool air.

“Hey, love.” His voice was deep, still fresh from sleep. You smile fondly at him. Though you first met him a few months back, reuniting a few days ago, the boy’s been growing on you.

“Hey, thanks for inviting me.” The two of you remain outside, hesitant to enter the VA. It daunted both you and Tom to face the veterans inside. The VA was a sacred place for them, you didn’t want to overstep boundaries or offend anyone with questions for research. They’ve suffered from PTSD or were recovering from substance abuse, some of them just starting out their recovery. You did not know what to expect or hear once you step foot into the building.

Tom’s feet shift against the pavement, his hands shoved into his pockets, “Yeah, it’s no problem. I just thought that—you know, since we’re the only two playing heroin addicts in the movie, I thought we could do this together.”

You smile reassuringly at him, “No, I get it. I honestly appreciate it, Tom, thank you.” You look around the area. It was a quiet place, not too many cars parked in the parking lot, a few trees scattered, and the building had a tan almost bland colored exterior. Your eyes drift back to Tom’s, which were already on you.

You gesture to the building with your head, “You ready to go in?” Tom nervously breaths in eyeing the building. You catch on to his hesitancy and place your hand on his arm.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous to talk to them, you know? I don’t want them to think I’m using their suffering as some kind of inspiration for this role.” He explains. You nod understanding, “Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same way, I don’t want to trespass on their privacy either. Wanna take a minute out here?”

“I think I’m good. How about you?” Tom composes himself. You flash him a tight smile nodding. Together, the two of you enter the VA, greeted by a receptionist who leads you both to a room.

You and Tom spend most of the day at the VA listening to the different stories of veterans who’ve suffered from PTSD and or substance/drug abuse. Some of them were very open and willing to share, telling you the hardships of their experience. Then there were those who were at the start of their recovery journey, a bit closed off, but were still willing to share nonetheless.

Tom watched as you listened to each veteran intently. Your eyes remained on them, your head nodding along, as you asked them questions or added some input to their stories. Unlike Tom, you seemed more composed and calmer than him. This was something he wasn’t used to, he wasn’t used to talking about drugs or military veterans and addiction. All of this talk was uncharted territory for him, it was dark and terrifying, something he never associated himself with. He was glad you agreed to come along because without you he wasn’t sure if he could do this all alone.

Tom would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some kind of attraction towards you. There was just some sense of comfort or tranquility that drew him to you. You had the brightest smile that lit up the room, sometimes he even found himself smiling because of it. He admired the way you greeted each veteran or former drug addict with a comforting smile and talked to them as if they were just a person, and not as someone who’s been suffering. You made the room feel like a safe space for them to share their experiences without feeling like they were being judged.

Tom was quiet for the most part, asking questions when he felt they were necessary or when something peaked his interest. He added a few comments here and there but for most of the time he listened. He listened to the horrifying and heartbreaking experiences of each veteran. There was a point in the interviews where it dawned on Tom that he was going to have to portray what these veterans went through. From the traumas of war, through the struggles of PTSD, to the excessive use of drugs and alcohol—Tom became reluctant in becoming Cherry. Was he really ready to become a heroin addict? Was he mentally prepared to shred himself and be in the mindset of something so ruinous?

From time to time you glanced over at Tom, checking if he was alright. At the start he was a bit fidgety, his leg bouncing and fingers fumbling with each other. His questions came out stuttered but by the middle of the interviews he grew comfortable in the room. Once in a while you would ask him how he was and he would answer with a small nod and an assuring smile. He then would reciprocate the question with a whisper leaning closer for only you to hear.

By the time the last veteran walked out, Tom felt a responsibility to give these people justice. To not only tell their stories and of other veterans around the world, but to bring awareness to the things that they’ve faced. Not only Tom felt that but so did you. These people have opened up to you guys about the darkest and lowest points in their lives, the best way you can both thank them would have to be by portraying your roles as accurate and realistic as possible.

There was a stillness in the room; it was quiet. The only sounds being heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall beside you and the distant sound of cars driving by. Tom was the first to speak, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Your brows knitted together, put off by his random comment. “Why’s that?”

Tom shrugs, taking a breath in and turning in his seat to face you, “I couldn’t have done these interviews alone. From trying to make them feel comfortable and asking all these questions, I would’ve felt so overwhelmed. So, thank you.”

Your mouth curves into a small smile, “Give yourself some credit. I couldn’t have done this without you either. I can’t imagine doing these interviews alone, I wouldn’t be able to handle the intensity of all those stories by myself.”

Moments later the two of you finish your time at the VA. You walk towards your car, which was nearest to the building. “This is me.” You gesture to your car.

Tom nods in response. After all the stories he’s heard, he didn’t want to be alone. Sure, he has Harry back at his place, but it just wouldn’t be the same. He wouldn’t understand what was going through Tom’s head. Tom hesitates to ask you if you want to hang out, but after a quick mental argument against himself, he pushes himself to ask, “Um, what are you doing after this?”

You unlock your car and toss your bag into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll probably stop by Whole Foods or something. I need to fill up my fridge and pick up some stuff at Target that I might need.” You lean against the frame of your car. “Why?”

“Oh, I was gonna ask if you wanted to do something—it’s totally fine, since you’re busy and all.” Tom stutters out as he waved his hand at you. He was a bit disappointed that you were busy, besides not wanting to be by himself, he really wanted to spend time with you. You guys were friendly, but he wanted to get to know you more.

“Hey! If you want, you could come along? I could use the company.” You suggest, lips curving to a half smile. You gesture to his arms and jokingly say, “I could also use a pair of strong arms to help me.”

Tom bashfully chuckles, “I’d like that.” He turns to where his car was parked and motions to it over his shoulder. “I brought my car, so I guess I’ll just follow you there?”

“Yeah, I’ll just, I’ll text you the location.” You hold your phone up.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Tom confirms and pulls you into a hug. You giggle at how affectionate he can be. You were gonna see him again in just a few minutes; the drive to Whole Foods wasn’t that long.

Tom parks his car besides yours in the Whole Foods parking lot. You both lock up your vehicles and make your way into the market. On the way, Tom grabs a shopping cart for you. You try to steal it away from him, but he insists on pushing the cart the entire time. You take out your list on your phone and navigate your way through the aisles of Whole Foods. While you throw things into the cart, you and Tom converse. The both of you share some basic information, like things about your hometowns, your families and friends, just the general stuff. You guys were talking about pets when you reached cereal aisle.

“I had a Yorkie when I was growing up, he was the sweetest little thing. He sadly passed because of a heart attack.” You reminisced as you scanned the shelves for your preferred cereal brand. Your hand held onto the cart that Tom pushed with his elbows, as he leaned his entire weight onto the cart.

Tom frowned at the mention of your dog, “I’m sorry.” You give him a look, wordlessly telling him that you were ok and have moved on. “So, did you get to bring Tessa to Cleveland?”

“Nope, she’s not too fond of flights, so I don’t put her through the struggle of getting on a plane.” You find your cereal and try to reach for it, “Aww, I would’ve wanted to meet her. From what you told me, she sounds like a sweetheart.”

Tom chuckles at you before coming from behind the cart and helping you get the cereal down. You look at him with a sheepish grin, “I had that, but thank you.”

Tom squints his eyes playfully at you, “Did you really? Because you looked like you were struggling a bit?”

“No, I was stretching.” You quip back eyes twinkling with amusement. You place the box in the cart and drag the cart. Tom chuckles returning to the front of the cart and pushes it. You look back at him, “You wanna have dinner at my place? I could make a pretty good pizza.”

“Is that so? I guess I might have to try it for myself, I’m in.” He agrees. The two of you finish up at Whole Foods. The cart was overflowing with brown bags when you and Tom walked back to your cars. Always the gentleman, Tom helps you put all your bags into your car’s trunk and even takes back the cart to the designated area that stored them. You split off into your separate cars and stop by Target before you go home. Going to Target with Tom was probably one of the most chaotic and hilarious things you’ve ever done. It took you about two hours in Target just to get what you were looking for. Most of the time in the store was you and Tom looking at children’s toys, making fun of weird costumes you found, and finding meaningless shit to buy because why not? You never thought Tom could be a dumbass until you saw him try to bounce a ball onto the floor and make it land onto his head.

“Tom, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You warn him, looking around to see if anyone were looking at you guys. You spot a camera a few feet away but it was nowhere close to you both.

“Don’t worry darling, we won’t. I got you, trust me.” He assures you as he gets himself into position. You shake your head at him while you sip on the coffee you got from Starbucks.

“Wait, so what are you doing again?” You ask.

“I’m going to try and get the ball on my head.” He answers clearly distracted. He digs his sneakers into the floor and prepares himself to bounce the ball. “You ready, darling?”

“No, but go ahead.”

It all happened so quick. Tom being the dumbass he was, underestimated the amount of force he put onto the ball. Instead of the ball bouncing a few feet into the air, it bounces into the next aisle and the next thing you both know you hear a *boing* and a baby crying. You and Tom look at each other with wide eyes. He rushes over to you and helps you maneuver the cart away from the sports section. You’re caged in by his arms, in between the cart and his chest as you both quietly giggle to yourselves.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.” You tell him through more fits of giggles.

The two of you are now in your rented house. You work together in the kitchen, working as a team to figure out the recipe for the pizza dough. Tom is beside you, looking over your shoulder while you both read through the Food Network recipe on your phone.

“Ok, we did all of that. So now we knead the dough, toss it into a bowl and let it rise. Then we could roll it in a little bit.” You read turning your phone off and looking at Tom. He nods and takes the dough out. You sprinkle flour onto your counter and onto the dough as Tom volunteers to knead the pizza dough.

Tom’s Spotify playlist plays lowly in the background. You were both quiet, basking in the comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Weirdly enough, there was never an awkward moment with Tom. He could say the same thing for you.

You try to avoid the way his arms flex and how his veins pop out as he massages the dough. You glance at his buzzcut hair and ask, “Do you think your hair will grow back by the time you shoot Spider-Man three? Or are we going to have a bald Peter Parker?”

He stops his motions and looks at you shocked, “You’ve watched my Spider-Man movies?”

“Of course I have! I’m a big Marvel fan, my whole family actually is, especially my nephew. We love your version of Spidey—well except my dad and his brother, but besides them we love your version.” You explain. You see a smile twitch onto his lips as he continues his task.

“Wow, thanks. I never thought you’d watch my movies.” Through the warm lights of your kitchen, you see a blush spread onto his cheeks.

“What do you mean?”

Tom stops massaging the pizza dough and looks at you, “Well I’ve—wow this is embarrassing—but I’ve always kinda been a fan of your work. My brothers and I always watch your movies, and they never disappoint us. You’re just amazing! And now I get to work with you, and I’m not going to lie I’m still a bit starstruck, but it’s literally an honor to work with you.”

You look at him taken aback by his confession. You shake yourself out of your shock, “Well I guess that makes the two of us because you still make me a bit starstruck whenever I see you too.”

From that night on, you and Tom always hung out. Whether it be at your house or his, you both managed to spend the entire day together. Sometimes you’d both stay way too late at each other’s house, that you ended up having sleepovers. You guys would still have weekly visits to the VA, doing more research and meeting more veterans. To lighten the mood after, you and Tom would go to Target, get a bunch of junk food and knickknacks, then go to one of your places to watch a movie. The two of you have even explored Cleveland on your own with Harry tagging along once in a while. When Tom found out you were going to be living alone during the duration of filming, he offered that you could stay with him and Harry. Though you didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, both Holland brothers insisted that you live with them. You were still debating on their offer, but you were still spending most of your nights with them anyway.

It was one of those nights again but it was different. Today was the last free day you both had before filming began. It was different because you haven’t portrayed the deeply flawed characters you were both casted as. You and Tom spent the morning at the studio along with the Russos and the rest of the cast doing a table read of the entire movie. Reading and listening to the entire movie out loud made you anxious for the day to come. You were scared that not only you, but Tom, might go down a spiral of darkness throughout the process of this film. Cherry was something new for both of you. Neither of you have worked on a project as cataclysmic or dreadful as Cherry.

You were quitely sat on Tom’s couch staring at the sun setting through his windows. Tom was in the kitchen making the both of you cups of tea to warm you up from the harsh cool air of Cleveland. Harry was in his room, telling you and Tom that he was going to take a nap and to not worry about him. Tom watched you from the kitchen. The sun’s golden rays reflected on your skin, giving it a glow. Your brows were furrowed as you seemed to be deep in thought.

“Wanna sit on the patio and see the sunset from outside?” Tom comes up behind you with a half smile on his lips. You happily nod and take his hand to get off the couch. He slings his arm around you and hands you your jacket. He tells you to go out first and that he’ll meet you outside with the tea.

You sit on the steps of his patio, watching the sky change from shades of blue to a mix of orange, pink, and purple. You hear the door open and footsteps against the wood of the floors. You look up to see Tom holding two cups of tea with a fluffy blanket over his shoulder. A beanie was now on his head and a jumper was pulled over his shirt.

You thank him as he hands you your cup. Tom settles beside you, placing his cup on the steps and began to open up the blanket.

“Why do you have a blanket?” You ask him. He untangles the blanket and puts it over his shoulders, his arm wraps around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“To keep us warm.” He answers while he reaches for his cup. “I tried to find another blanket, but I think Harry took it.”

You brush his comment off, “It’s fine, I like this better.”

A peaceful silence lays upon the two of you as your eyes stare at the sky and your lips sip onto the cup. Tom’s arm remains around you as his fingers draw random patterns onto your arm. Tom was the first to break the silence.

“How do you feel about filming starting tomorrow?” He asks you quietly. Your eyes shift to the tea in your cup.

“Honestly? I’m a bit nervous, especially since we’re starting off with the heroin addiction parts. I don’t know how to feel about it.” You answer.

Tom hums, “I know what you mean. I’m pretty scared too.” Your eyes remove themselves from your cup to look up at Tom.

“Why are you scared?”

“I just—it scares me that all the acting and trying to be in the mindset of Nico might actually affect me. Like maybe by the end of this film, he’ll be a part of me.” He admits, his teeth gritting against each other. You look at him sympathetically. He was truly going through a war in his mind; just by the way he was glaring at the sky and how his fingers stopped drawing on your arm and instead gripped it. It was like he was looking for leverage to stop himself from falling down a loophole of possible outcomes of the end of this movie.

Your hand grasps his hand on your shoulder, catching his attention. His deep brown eyes connect with yours, “You’re not going to turn into Nico, Tom.”

“How do you know that? What if the more I act like him the more I turn into him? (Y/n), what if I get so lost into the character that I eventually loose myself in the process? What do I do when that happens?” He began to ramble, questions spilling from his tongue as he looked at you pleadingly.

You shake your head and squeeze his hand, “It’s not going to happen Tom. You wanna know how I know why?” Tom shakes his head.

“Because we’ll have each other’s backs. I’ll be there right beside you. If you ever feel like you’re spiraling down too deep as Nico, I’ll be there to get you out. You don’t have to go through all of that alone, Tom. I’ll be here for you, you could trust me.” You promise him. Tom’s mind seems to stop racing as his eyes gaze into yours. He finds nothing but honesty in them. You feel his hand fumble with yours before he interlocks them together.

“What if it gets really ugly?”

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable honey, especially around me, I won’t judge. I’ll still be there for you. ” You reassure him. You try to lighten up the mood by bumping your shoulder against his. “Plus, we’re actors, vulnerable is our middle name. How do you think Leo finally got an Oscar?” You joke. The frown on Tom’s face breaks as he stifles a laugh. You smile at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, he was happy.

Your laughter dies down and you’re staring at him again, “But seriously, Tom. I’ll be here for you whether you like it or not, nobody should have to go through the mental capacity of a heroin addict by themselves.”

Tom nods, “Thank you. I can’t imagine anyone else in my corner but you while we film this. You’ve honestly been such a godsend and we haven’t even started filming yet. Thank you for being so understanding and patient with me.” He smiles fondly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple and pulling you into a hug. You hum in response and place your head in the crook of his neck, “You don’t have to thank me.”

Silence once again consumes the both of you. The birds chirp in the distance and the sky has now turned a dark purple. “You can count on me too. I’ll be there for you.” Tom whispers against your hair. You silently thank him, snuggling closer to his warm embrace. The fears of tomorrow slowly fade from your bodies as you watch the darkness consume the light in the sky.

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

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[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[pappydaddy]

Deal? (j.m.)

A/N: I recently added Outer Banks to the list of shows I write for because I am actually in love with the show. So, if you want to request for Outer Banks, send me a request but please look at the rules before doing so! 

Anyway, I am also writing a OB imagine because I want to see if people are actually seeing my posts or not. In the past, my little Outer Banks posts about JJ have gotten lots of interaction. Therefore, I am writing a JJ fic. 

Paring: JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Show: Outer Banks

Warnings: Jealously, protectiveness, some creepy dude, some punches but nothing horrible. Some blood. 

This takes place in an alternate universe where John B Sarah don’t capsize or even get on the boat in general. Just for the sake of this imagine.

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- not my gif -

  Boneyard parties were fun, there was no doubt about that fact, but sometimes an extravagant Kook party thrown by some rich snob wanting to rebel against their perfect little shoe box life was just as fun. The Pogues especially liked them since their presence at the party always ticked the Kooks off, but they couldn’t do anything about it unless they wanted the cops to bust their party full of minors drinking and doing drugs. Since the Pogues befriending Sarah Cameron, they had an excuse to make more appearances at Kook parties. Of course, JJ couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rile up some Kooks. Especially not when he’s dating the most attractive girl on the island: Y/n L/n. Rich enough to live comfortably, but not rich enough to be in Figure Eight. 

  “Come on, Jay! It’s a pool party,” Y/n whined to her boyfriend, her hands gripping his large bicep as she shook his arm lightly. “Put the swim trunks I gave you on!” She pleaded with him. Her blonde and stubborn boyfriend simply sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at his phone as she shook his arm more violently. Many people were surprised when JJ had entered the serious, long-term relationship with the youngest (and only daughter) of the L/n family for many reasons. The main one being that he settled down in the first place. JJ Maybank didn’t seem like the type for commitment, but with their second year anniversary fast approaching - they were left with their heads spinning. The other reason was the fact that Y/n had two older and very protective brothers. Everybody was almost positive that JJ wouldn’t even get past her brothers, either they would have crushed him to a pulp or he would have thought it to be too much work for a girl. 

  “But I don’t want to get in an overcrowded pool with a bunch of Kooks.” JJ grunted, trying to type a text to John B to see if the group was almost to Y/n’s house to pick them up. Though JJ was the designated driver for the party (he drew the short straw), he still needed the van in order to cart all The Pogues home at the end of the night. Y/n groaned, plunking herself down on the bed beside him, her hands still gripping his arm. 

  “You don’t have to get in the pool! I don’t want to get in the pool either, but I am still wearing a bathing suit!” JJ looked up from his phone and gave his pouting girlfriend a look. That was the thing about their relationship, it even surprised JJ. It downright scared him when he started to have feelings for Y/n. At first, he didn’t know what had happen to make him want a relationship, but then he realized that there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend every waking second with her, want to protect her. 

  “Why does it matter if I wear the swim trunks you bought me or not?” He asked, locking his phone and setting it on the bed beside him. She shrugged, one hand sliding down to pick play with his fingers, her eyes locked on them. They had been friends for a good year before they started dating, their feelings having come to light when the great treasure hunt ensued. That meant they could read each other decently well. Having gone through that together while their relationship was blooming into a romantic one made them more perceptive to each other. As he sat there, watching her play with his fingers, he could tell that she was bashful about the reason. 

  “Because I think you’d look really hot in them.” She mumbled, her cheeks heating up. She tucked her chin closer to her chest, wanting to make sure JJ didn’t see her red cheeks, but even without seeing her face, he knew she had the adorable redness flooding her cheeks and nose. He didn’t even try to fight the smile as he watched her try to avoid his gaze while playing it cool. 

  “Alright, if that’s what you really want, I’ll wear the trunks.” He agreed. He knew that he would have ended up putting them on before they left, not matter how much he ‘fought’ against it. She snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide and happy. 

  “Yay,” She celebrated with a little bounce. “Now, can I bother you for one teeny tiny favour?” She asked sweetly, taking her hand from his to pinch her pointer finger and thumb together so that they were just barely touching. JJ hummed, reaching his hand up to grab her hand back, entangling their fingers together. 

  “Any thing for you, Pretty Girl.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb across her soft skin gently. The action felt nice on her hand but also sent tingles shooting up her arm, giving her a fuzzy feeling. 

  “I need advice on my bathing suit, I put it on earlier, but now I don’t know about it,” She paused, standing up, trying to free her hand reluctantly. JJ’s hand held firm, not wanting to let her hand go until it was completely necessary. Giving up, she settled with standing between his legs as he stayed sitting. “Is it too much?” She asked nervously, popping the buttons on her high-waisted jean shorts before letting them slide down her legs. Next came the shirt, leaving her in her rather racy bathing suit. 

  “Too much of what?” JJ asked, confused since there wasn’t too much of anything. It was a bathing suit. A normal bathing suit like all of her others. 

  “Too skimpy,” She clarified, turning her head to glance at the full body mirror by the foot of her bed. “This is by far the most scandalous bathing suit I own, but Kie and Sarah convinced me to buy it last week and I don’t want to not wear it, ya know?” She rambled, inspecting it. The stringy bikini was gorgeous and totally for relaxing poolside, not for swimming. The colour of it complemented her skin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was showing too much. 

  “Why would you even think that? You look gorgeous in it,” JJ’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t get where you think it’s too ‘skimpy’? I mean, it covers everything,” He questioned, his eyes scanning over his girlfriend. She looked absolutely stunning. He grabbed her other hand as it picked at the strings tying her top up. She looked down at him, her eyes meeting his captivating blue eyes. “You look amazing in it. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

  “No, I actually really like it. I feel amazing in it,” She answered quickly. “But I don’t want guys staring at me and coming up to me all night. I just want to go and have fun with you and the others, not fend guys off with a stick.” She grunted, bending her knees to sit on one of JJ’s legs, her knees poking into the other one. He let go of her hands, wrapping his arms around her waist to make sure she didn’t fall off. 

  “I get that, but you don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll be right by your side the entire night,” He reassured. “And if I’m not right by you, I won’t be anymore than ten feet away. If some asshole comes up to you, I’ll take care of him. Anything as long as you get to wear what you want to the party, deal?” His eyebrows bounced as he calmed her down. 

  “Deal, but I get to wear your shirt.” She bargained, her hands gripping his open button up. It was a nice black one, though it was ratty, it was still her favourite button up of his. He glanced down at it. She was always taking it, leaving him to snatch it back by stuffing it in his overnight bag when he left. He had just gotten it back two weeks ago when he had to wash it. He knew that her attempts of stealing it were coming, but he would have thought she’d be a little bit more subtle about it. 

  “Whatever you want, Princess.” He pressed a kiss to her lips before sliding her off his lap to stand up, grabbing the swim trunks from the bed. 

 _____________________________________________________________________

  The party certainly was in full swing. Coke was on the tables, people handing off wads of cash towards the smug guy who brought it. John B and Sarah were already sloshed and they had only been there for an hour and a half. Kie had only one beer, but was currently sharing a blunt with John B and Sarah while Pope nursed his second beer. Y/n and JJ were standing off to the side, Y/n’s back pressed against the living room wall, JJ’s hand pressed into the wall by her head. He sipped at his water bottle while she finally had her first beer of the night. She didn’t like getting intoxicated, especially not when JJ was sober. She wanted to talk to her boyfriend, not make a complete fool out of herself. 

  “Can you believe that Pope is actually drinking more than one beer tonight? I think I even saw him try a hit of the blunt.” Y/n asked JJ, proud of her uptight friend for finally letting loose. Dating Kie has been such a good thing for him, he’s gotten so much more relaxed. JJ glanced over his shoulder, still hovering over his girlfriend. 

  “’Atta boy, Pope,” He hollered over the thumping music, tossing his empty water bottle to the floor and rising his now free fist in the air to fist pump. Pope sending him a ‘Whoop’ and a fist pump back from where he sat on the fancy leather couch. “Princess, I need to go get another water bottle. You want to come with me or sit with the others?” He asked, holding her hand gently while his other one slid off the wall. 

  “You go, I’ll sit with the inebriated and keep them company.” She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The two of them glanced over at their friend group as they laughed loudly about something. Their intoxicated minds finding the smallest things funny. 

  “If you’re sure,” JJ looked back at Y/n wanting to make sure she was completely okay with him grabbing another drink. She nodded, a wide smile on her face at his protectiveness. “Okay, I’ll be there in like five seconds, ten tops. Love you.” He rushed, bouncing out of her sight in an effort to rush back to her. She laughed, shaking her head before taking a sip of her beer. Making her way towards the group falling all over each other with laughter, she suddenly felt the weight of eyes burning into her back. 

  Glancing behind her, she didn’t see anyone staring at her. Shrugging it off, she continued her short walk, sitting down next to John B who didn’t even notice her presence yet. “Hey, Y/n, where’s JJ?” Pope asked, noticing only one half of the duo joining them. John B looked beside him, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend’s girlfriend. 

  “Getting another water bottle, he’ll be here in a sec.” She told him, downing the rest of her beer, not wanting to set it down anywhere. John B slung his arm around Y/n’s shoulders, using the hand holding his own solo cup to point at her. 

  “She sleeps with my best friend, but not only does she do that, but she also makes him happy,” John B slurred, nearly poking Y/n in the face by accident. “Like, really happy - happier than I’ve ever seen him,” John B took his arm off Y/n creating big gestures with his hands as he talked. Dodging his flailing arms, Y/n smiled at his drunken sweetness. “I think that JJ might marry her someday, then everyone will know that they have sex!” John B carried on, making Y/n’s cheeks flare up. 

  “Hey, John B, Imma go get you a water, actually-” Pope paused, glancing at the group. Through he was slightly tipsy, he still knew that he needed to be more responsible for the ones who were way passed tipsy. “I’m gonna get you all a water, want one, Y/n?” He asked, knowing that she was probably in much better shape than him, but he also knew that she shouldn’t be venturing off into the crowd alone, let alone her being comfortable to do so. 

  “Sure! Thanks Pope!” She smiled, Pope returning the gesture before heading off the same direction JJ went off in. John B started to talk loudly to Sarah, the two in their conversation while Kie rattled off about Microplastics in the ocean, nobody really listening to her. A hand landing on her shoulder was odd, since JJ never walked up behind her at a party and touched her from behind, always wanting her to know that it was him and not some creep. That’s why her blood seemed to still in her body at the hand. 

  “Looks like you could use some better company.” Someone spoke, sliding into the spot next to her, his arm resting around her shoulders much like John B’s had seconds before. She glanced at him, everything about him screaming Touron, especially since he thought hitting on her would get him anywhere. Thought their relationship surprised every local, that still meant that they all knew about it. 

  “No, I’m really okay. These are my friends, also, by boyfriend and my other friend will be back in a couple of seconds, but if you’re looking for someone to talk to, there is a lot of Lacrosse players over there playing Beer Pong.” She pointed towards the herd of boys playing Beer Pong on the grand mahogany dinning table. The Touron glanced over there, his slicked back hair catching the light with the amount of gel he had in it. He pulled a face, shrugging and tightening his arm around her shoulders. 

  “I don’t know, I think you’d be better company,” He denied, obviously not taking the hint. Instead, he just stomped on the hint and punted it into the world’s farthest dumpster. “Besides, I don’t really think you have a boyfriend, you’re probably just telling me that so I leave you alone.” 

  “I can assure you, I am telling the whole truth when I tell you my boyfriend is going to be right back. And I do want you to leave me alone, that’s why I said ‘no’ earlier.” She remarked, her voice biting. He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he dramatically looked around. 

  “I certainly don’t see anyone coming ‘right back’,” He mocked, air-quoting her words. She huffed, rolling her eyes. “So I really don’t think you were telling me the truth about you boyfriend, Sweetheart-” 

  “Well, prepare to be proven wrong,” A new voice joined the conversation, the two of them looking to the side where there was a space at the corner of the two couches. There stood JJ, he dumped the two water bottles he held into Pope’s hands. Pope stood slightly behind JJ, looking rather nervous about what was going to happen as he dropped the bottles to the couch kie was laid out on. “Meet the boyfriend who’s now back and wanting you to leave before you leave with a limp.” He threatened the posh boy. 

  “So what? She wasn’t lying about the boyfriend, but can she really except not to be hit on when wearing that kind of a bikini,” He asked, speaking as if he was the victim being harassed. JJ’s knuckles cracked as he clenched them into a fist, his nostrils flaring, his eyes lighting up with anger. Even in their drunken and high daze, John B, Kie, and Sarah looked up with nervous eyes, watching the events unfolding. “And how can you be mad when you’re the one who left her alone after you let her leave the house wearing it?” He asked, Pope cringed, know what that comment ignited in JJ. Y/n watched, her mouth hanging open when he implied that she was JJ’s property. 

  “I see you’ve made your choice,” JJ spoke with a voice so calm that it scared the group. They had never heard his voice so calm in a situation like this. It was normally aggressive and raspy, strained from him trying to suppress his anger. It was as if he didn’t have anger issues and he was going to deal with this rationally. Just as the group was questioned what the blonde’s next moves were going to be, he lunged forward, gripping the collar of the guys polo, his fist connecting to his nose with a loud crack. “Did you really expect me not to break your nose being that much of a dick? You can’t be mad that your buddies aren’t here to protect you if they left you alone!” JJ’s normal aggressive voice returned, his fist painted with the guy’s blood as he sent blow after blow to the guy’s face. 

  “JJ! JJ! He’s had enough! This isn’t worth getting arrested again! JJ,” Y/n pleaded with her angry boyfriend, seeing him slamming the preppy boy against the wall, scarlet blood dropping to the dark hardwood floors of the house. “JJ,” She tried again, her voice scratchy from yelling so loud. “Pope! Help me grab his arm!” She called, a crowd forming to watch the fight. She knew John B was still too drunk to be able to help. Pope rushed towards JJ, the pair grabbing his arm when he went to power up another punch. 

  “Come on, man! We gotta go!” Pope called, but JJ stomped his foot into the Prep’s foot, a strangled scream leaving the Prep’s mouth as the tiny bones in his foot cracked. 

  “JJ! Stop!” Y/n yelled, tugging on the arm she clutched to her. JJ, having just sent a harsh kick to the shin of the opposite leg that he had just stepped on, glanced at her. Her eyes pleaded with him to stop as she tugged on his arm once again. He couldn’t help but compare her to earlier that night. Her arms were wrapped around his like they were right them, she shook it, just like she was doing right then, but her eyes were different. Earlier, they were light and big, resembling a puppy dog. Now, her eyes were wide and nervous, scared that he’d get in trouble over her - knowing that the Prep was no match for him. 

  “Let’s get out of here,” JJ nodded. his heart was still thumping with pure fury, but he knew he needed to walk away for her. She nodded, letting go of his arm, thinking he was completely done. “You get the others, I’ll be right there-” He didn’t even wait a second before he sent his knee into the Prep’s groin, hitting him square on. A loud ‘humph’ left the guy as he tried to double over, but JJ held him up by his polo collar. “You touch my girl, I break you. You try to press charges, I finish the job without her here to stop me, deal?” He hissed in a low voice. 

  “JJ! Stop and come,” Y/n ordered, realizing what her boyfriend was still fighting. JJ’s eyes hardened at the lack of response from the scared Prep, making him nod frantically. Once JJ’s hands left his collar, the boy crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. “Let’s go, someone probably called the cops - the drug dealers took off.” She alerted JJ, Pope already trying to get the other three to follow him towards the van. Y/n grabbed JJ’s hand, pulling him through the watchful crowd. 

  The run to the van was all Pope, Y/n, and JJ trying to get the other three to run, basically pulling them along behind them. Once they were in the van though, that was another story. Tires squealing as JJ pulled off, speeding down the road, Y/n sitting in the passenger seat as she gripped on for dear life, and the other four being tossed around. “I’m sorry for leaving you for so long, someone decided to take an ice bath in the cooler, it took three of us to pull him out because his ass got stuck.” JJ spoke up, his voice soft. The van was quiet as eyelids became heavy in the back. Y/n looked over at him, his speed slowing once they got into Pogue territory. 

  “It’s okay, JJ. You protected me, though you went a little over and beyond, but none-the-less, you still protected me. Just like you promised,” Her voice was just as soft, the couple sharing a sweet moment. Cruising down the street, JJ couldn’t help but look over at her. “But, next time, please take yourself into account, Jay. It’s really not worth getting arrested again.” She pleaded. 

  “What are you talking about? Your safety is totally worth getting arrested for. I’d rather get arrested protecting you than you getting hurt. I would lose my mind if you got hurt.” He argued. She perked an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t see it since he turned his head to glance in front of them before looking back at her. 

  “And what happened back there wasn’t you losing your mind,” She asked. He shook his head, a light smile on his face as the air became lighter. “No matter that, how about we make a deal? You learn when to walk away and, to help you learn, every time you walk away from a fight - you get a little treat. How does that sound? We got a deal?” She proposed with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. JJ chuckled, taking one hand off the wheel to attach to her thigh, squeezing it affectionately. 

  “We got a deal.” He agreed, his blue eyes pouring all his love and affection into hers. It was like they were the only ones in the van. JJ’s heart swelled with love so much that it throbbed painfully, feeling like it was ready to burst with all the love being confined within it. Their moment was quickly interrupted by Pope sticking his head between the seats, breaking their eye contact. 

  “Yeah, as cute and sickening this moment between you two is, I would still like to get to John B’s in one piece. So, eyes on the road, Maybank!” He exclaimed, pointing to the empty road. JJ huffed, setting his eyes on the dark road ahead, leaving his hand on Y/n’s thigh. 

  “Fine, but Y/n and I call the spare room!” JJ announced to Pope who settled in the back once again. Pope groaned, kicking himself that he hadn’t called dibs on it sooner. 

  “You two always get the spare! Kie and I get it next time.” Pope bargained, his tone low. 

  “Deal.” JJ smirked, shooting Y/n a wink, flashing his crossed fingers while still keeping them from Pope’s sight. 

  “I saw that, Maybank!”               

[sapphiics]

Didn’t we almost have it

a/n: I heavily suggest listening to Dammit by Jana Kramer while reading this, it is where I got the entire plot from.

dt: to my dear @morcias because who else just loves morcia so much. plus I asked her a million questions to help me figure out details for this.

word count: 3k

content warning: it’s angsty(?) and quite sad but with a very happy ending.

-----

God did Penelope hate driving through Illinois.

The only reason she was coming back was for the bridal shower of a girlfriend from college, otherwise she would’ve stayed in California, where she was at least a good thousand miles away from this place.

All it did was make her nostalgic, almost painfully so. The entire state serving as a physical reminder of her old life. One she had not a chance in hell of getting back.

The urge to race her car to the nearest ‘Leaving Illinois’ sign coming over her yet again, Penelope makes a right turn onto Commonwealth avenue. Christina’s house was only five minutes from where she was.

It was the walkway that first drew her eye. A stone path, small flowers lining it. She could almost hear his heavy footsteps getting louder as he jogs to greet her, meeting Penelope in the middle with a chaste kiss as she hauls grocery bags under her arms, enough food for four. 

As she nears closer, her eyes travel up the length of the two-story building, it’s utter perfectness painfully pressing into her like a stab to the gut. It took every ounce of restraint that she possessed not to slam the brakes and just gawk at the vision in front of her.

That was the house.

The dream house. The one the two of them fantasized about back in college. Penelope can practically see the late nights they spent in her dorm, cramped together on her twin bed, their fingers intertwined. His free hand running over her head, pushing her hair back behind her ear and tilting her into his shoulder. Hushed planning of their happily ever after. She can hear his voice whispering in her ear, about how they would have two perfect daughters. He would be a FBI agent, and she would work for a nonprofit organization. He’d cook, she’d clean, he would take care of the lawn, she’d do the laundry.

That was the plan. Their own special, simple, linear plan.

Until real life happened, essentially taking those plans and throwing it off a cliff. That’s all it was now, a pretty daydream to keep Penelope from having to accept the fact that nothing in her life is going like she hoped, and she’s probably going to end up alone.

None of that stopped her from turning into the lot of the house, the door slightly cracked open. A large ‘For Sale’ sign hung on it. 

Giving her the perfect opportunity to see what she could’ve had. To spend a few fleeting moments dreaming of the life she would’ve had with him.

Finally found that dream house, and yet the dream guy was long gone.

Her hands shakier than she would’ve liked, Penelope slowly steps out of her car, the two story home everything she ever envisioned.

The path up to the house was lined with daffodils, she could see as she passed them. The front door was a smooth dark brown. Solid wood, contrasting with the otherwise creme exterior of the house.

That would’ve been his touch. He always liked that building and renovating stuff, she could almost hear him begging her to let him remodel the place. To really ‘make it their home.’

The entrance didn’t nothing to deter her, the arching ceilings and oak floors straight out of her most vivid dreams. The arches reminded her of college. Charles Deering Memorial Library, to be specific. She had always liked the gothic architecture, and even he could admit that the towering building’s medieval influence was well executed. And that chill day in March, the ninth, to be exact, when they first met. She was working there part-time, and he needed something from the football archives.

It was his smile that drew her in, his eyes drawn up real small as he flashed her two rows of perfect teeth. 

What she would give for one of those smiles right about now.

An embarrassingly loud gasp left her mouth as she walked in further. Ahead of her were a pair of large black couches, perpendicular to each other. A grand fireplace in front of them, an open space perfect for a nice big flat screen.

Hockey. That’s what would be playing. He was huge on the sport, and her mind drifted to an image of the two of them sitting on the couch. Him in a worn out jersey and his lucky socks, her in his beat leather jacket, feet propped up in his lap. She has headphones and her knitting, he has a beer she steals sips of and has a loose grip on her ankle, his fingers pressing against the small tattoo she got the day she turned eighteen. Just like old times.

Without even glimpsing at the side door that led to the kitchen, Penelope could already visualize him sitting on the counter. A soft white tee and some sweatpants, strumming on her ukulele and singing some old 90s ballad off key while she chopped vegetables. Later that night, after their girls went to bed, the two of them dancing together to her parents’ old record player. An old Bee Gees song softly in the background as they sway.

Her mind racing, she’s already thinking of summer barbecues. Her and JJ drinking margaritas in the shade, their children’s laughter bringing a grin to her face. Him talking it up with Rossi about god knows what as he mans the grill. The sun setting as he takes a seat next to her, tugging her into his side and placing a small kiss on the side of her head.

The overwhelming realization that Penelope is never going to get that future, never going to have the future she so desperately wanted with him, hit her harder than ever in that moment.

And next thing she knows she can feel tears running down her cheeks. Alone, in the middle of an open house in the one state, the one city she vowed to never return to, and she’s sobbing like a baby.

“Well Hello Miss!” ,a kind old woman steps out, shocking Penelope back to reality, “You here for the house?”

 “Yes,“ she says softly, hastily wiping at her face,  “Yes I am. Just a quick look around.” Her hands swipe at her dress, trying to regain even a semblance of composure, “You have a beautiful home.”

The woman casts her a sympathetic smile,

“Thank you. Me and Sarah have lived here for over forty years. We raised our five children in these very walls,” the lady beams, a smile coming over her face as she looks around the room, 

“We figured that with them all gone and us not getting any younger, we could downsize just a bit.”

Penelope let out a polite laugh, but stayed silent otherwise.

“You stay for as long as you like! My name’s Carolyn by the way. Let me know if you need anything!”

“Penelope, and thank you,” she smiles at her, Carolyn returning to the back of the house.

Penelope’s eyes catch onto the grand staircase, passing over the perfect crème walls and carpet flooring.

Her feet moved towards it, the view before her so accurate to her vision that it was like somebody reached into her brain and pulled out the design themselves. She needed to have this place.

Right before she can take a step on the stairs, she sees Carolyn return, a dimmed smile on her face.

“I’d like to buy the house,” Penelope states confidently. She couldn’t possibly leave here without having it.

It didn’t matter that she lived across the country, with decent enough friends and a steady job. This was the house, and if she had the chance to get at least one part of the dream, she damn sure was going to take the opportunity.

Carolyn winces, a regretful look on her face. “I’m so sorry Penelope, we just had somebody place an offer for it.”

“Oh,” Penelope’s eyes widen slightly, and she can feel the tears pushing their way to the surface. For just a second, she let herself get entranced by the home, and it hurt more than she was willing to admit that she couldn’t have it.

“Are you looking for a similar house ? There’s one just in Fullerton Road, and I believe it is on sale.”

“No I… I just got caught up,” Penelope waves her hand around the side of her head, her cheeks turning red, “It’s okay, an amazing family deserves this home.”

“Actually, the young man who purchased the place is with Sarah in the back right now. He’s already thinking of renovating the place.”

“Sounds great,” Penelope mused, wanting to be anywhere but here. At least a loving family is getting this house. She just hoped they were as happy as she once imagined she would be.

“Here they are,“  Carolyn announces, adding to Penelope’s discomfort. She had to leave, and fast. The last thing she wanted to see was the happy husband who bought this place to catch her, essentially a random stranger, crying in his kitchen.

“Is your family nearby? Why didn’t they come?” A woman, Penelope could only assume was Sarah, Carolyn’s wife, was talking to the new owner of the house. Penelope stiffened, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

A deep laugh comes from the other person, and she could hear the two people approaching. “Nope, I’m a single man.”

“What the hell did you need such a big house for then?” Sarah quips.

“Just,” the guy takes a resigned breath, “Just wishful thinking I guess.“

Penelope could hear her heartbeats, the sound thrumming loudly in her ears. She shut her eyes, squeezing them to the point of something akin to pain. This couldn’t be happening. This could just be a terrible dream, and when she opened them, she would be waking up in her apartment. Back home, where she was away from her old life here. Safely away from the love of her life, whose voice she just heard for the first time in five years.

“Sarah, this is Penelope. She just stopped by to look at the house.”

Penelope reluctantly turns, peeling her eyes open. To her disappointment, she was still standing in the swept sold house. Still back in her college town.

Still right in front of her ex-fiancé, one she’s just as irrevocably in love with as she was the day he proposed.

“Derek,” she lets out quietly, drinking in everything about him. He’s only gotten better-looking, and Penelope has always been attracted to him.

It was his face, his eyes to be specific, that captured her in this moment.

Because instead of the resentment and anger she had expected, she had deserved, all that was there was a small shimmer of hope. A sliver of hope that she almost cried tears of relief at seeing. Hope she had given up on ever having until she saw it in his face. The same look reflected in her own eyes.

“Penelope.” 

His voice usually stern, she can hear the small waver in his tone. Like he’s just as affected by her as she is him.

Even after all these years, she can’t help but melt when it comes to Derek. It was like her innermost self just knew him, recognized that he, no matter how far apart they were, was always going to have a part of her heart. A power over her that she would never give to any other person.

Yet looking into Derek’s eyes, the only man to ever capture her heart, Penelope could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way she did.

“So, um, we’ll just leave you two for now,”  Carolyn’s eyes clearly wide as she drags her wife outside of the kitchen, leaving the pair alone together.

Derek walks a couple steps closer to her, the smell of nice cologne wafting to her nose as he moves near.

He opened his mouth, almost as if he were about to start speaking, but Penelope catches his small sigh and the twitch of his hands.

They were so close, closer than they had been in years, yet that short distance felt wider than the thousands of miles she had made sure to have between them for the past half a decade.

The lack of touch. That’s what was halting them.

They were always touching one another. It was an unspoken language, just for the two of them to understand. 

To be so close yet not touching, it felt so inorganic to Penelope, so abnormal.

Penelope looks just a little off to the right of him, his presence too overwhelming. He was examining her, and the quiet was anxious.

“Why didn’t you take the ring?” Derek spits out, his low voice subdued by the hurt she could just hear in his voice. “ I could handle how you left, no note or calls. But you left me your ring Penelope.”

She thought she was prepared for this, the anger he would have for her. But hearing the words in real time, from Derek himself, made her stomach turn. A ball of nausea tossed in her stomach, Derek’s pain something that never failed to physically wound Penelope.

“Derek...,” her heart breaking at how much she affected him.

“Did I,” he pauses, sucking in a shallow breath, “Did we mean that little to you?”

“No.” She locks onto his eyes at that, holding his stare. “You- us, that was everything to me.” A fierceness was in her voice that shocked her, and at the look of his slightly widened stare, she wasn’t the only one. The idea that Derek for a second could fathom the idea that he wasn’t the love of her life, her soulmate, was a stake to the heart.

“Was it marriage? Was it not wanting to be married? Because you could’ve told me.”

Surprising her own self, she moves in a half-step, her hands enclosing one of Derek’s clenched ones. Her fingers act on instinct, sliding through his, rubbing her thumb on the back of his index finger. Five years and his fingers still naturally close around hers .

Her teeth firmly sunk into the flesh on the back of her lip, she peers up at Derek, his expression unreadable. He was always better at the reading people thing, it was like second nature to him.

“I promise you, Derek Morgan, there is nothing I have ever wanted more than to marry you.”

Feeling his hand tighten around hers, glancing up to see his brows pulling together, she pushes on, needing to express to him her every feeling. “ You didn’t deserve what I did, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by when I didn’t feel like the luckiest person in the world to have such an amazing guy.”

“ I am so,” words that she’s been practicing for years suddenly getting clogged in her throat, making every word come out like a croak, “ so sorry for ever hurting you.”

Tears burning behind her eyes, nothing stuns her more than when Derek cups her face, his large palm enclosing her cheek as he runs his fingers lightly through her hair. 

“Is it the house?”

Taken aback, Penelope jolts her head upward. “What?”

His hand now on her shoulder, he turns her to the right, giving her a wider view of the home.

“Is it the right house?”

“It’s the perfect house.” Her voice trailing off at the end.

She faces Derek, his lips pressed together like he’s trying not to say something.

“We could- we could still have it.” His eyes looking at their hands, in a way that was so unlike him, Penelope didn’t dare try to assume anything about what his words meant.

“Have what?” her attempt to keep her voice even failing miserably. Averting his stare, her eyes land on his neck, where a thin gold chain rests.

A chain that had something that looked dangerously similar to a ring hidden under his shirt.

He looks to where she’s staring, a bald-faced look on her face, and his fingers pull out the necklace to reveal a gold wedding band. The one she bought for him, with the special engraving on the inside.

Through the tears rapidly coming to her eyes, she could see Derek’s face. And the vulnerability and love that shined from him to her 

Because he kept it. Even in his clear anger and hurt, the heartbreak she put him in, he kept her ring. 

“The plan.” Derek reaches behind his neck, his fingers reaching to the clasp of the necklace. “The big wedding, the two girls,” He slides the ring off of the chain, twirling it round in his hand. “Our dream.” He finally places the ring in her hands, gently closing her fingers around it.

Her mouth falling slightly open, Penelope slowly blinks three times. The words that just came out of his mouth so unbelievable that her brain was taking some time to catch up. She pulls her lip sideways into her mouth, too nervous to say anything.

His hands come up on each side of her face, a tender clasp that lets him turn her head up towards him.

“I never gave up on you, on us.” He lets out a sad laugh, “ Hell, I’m here about to buy a house just to try and get a piece of that dream.”

Penelope bobs her head slightly back, the shock of what’s happening still getting to her. “You really still want it?”

And Derek, bless his sweet soul, just looks at her with a small smile resting on his lips. “There is nothing, absolutely nothing babygirl,” the sound of his old nickname for her better than anything she’s heard the last few years, “that I want more than to be with you for the rest of my life.”

A matching smile coming to her mouth, she brings Derek’s left hand down to her own, and slides the wedding band on to his ring finger.

A soft cry breaks from her lips, and she feels nothing other than pure joy when he leans down, taking her lips in a sweet kiss.

Maybe, just maybe, they can have it after all.

————

taglist: @alexandrablake @lavenderbau @suburban--gothic @altsvu @rem-ariiana @vhsrights @spelleaway @willlemonheadsupremacy @ssaevie @literatekayla @criminalswifts @hotchshoney @moreidsdaughter @reidtheprettyboy

[thekitschdiet]

the kitsch diet part II

part one alr posted!! this chunk is about 3,000~ words long... let me know what u think :-) thank u all for all the luv already!!! looks like I really will hit 31 followers by easter!!!!!!!!

  Who is the Kitsch Girl? 

 I think this is more loosely defined, but The Chic Diet did a truly admirable way of reducing a girl to her YSL bag and her really skinny legs. Now, that implies an archetype, or a population in a specific location. I think kitschness is kind of the niche you fill when you’re not really much of anything else, sort of your own conglomerate of mainstream-specific. One major requirement, though, is being a little too into something somewhat uncool. And the whole illusion falls apart if you have any sort of outward insecurity. See, the Kitsch Girl is somewhat undefinable because she is so much of everything. She exists in multitudes, in a way that is also quite simple to understand; think of a list of axioms, or principles to live by. And now add a section to each one that says “but…” to make a collection of verified exceptions. Say, the kitsch girl will never wear jeans. But she thrifted this pair of vintage flares she just loves. She doesn’t reply to texts efficiently, but sometimes she will within a couple seconds. No mascara, no dinner forks, candles are to be collected not burned; but that was a gift, or something. It’s not personal, of course, those are just the contradictions she exists in. Don’t try to understand it, the enigma is essential to the facade. Or maybe she just lives like this, and her character is so homogenous with her inner world there’s no sense in trying to separate it. You have to have a little bit of an individuality complex about the whole ordeal, which is normally so eugh, but if you’re kitschy enough it works on you. Trust!The Kitsch girl is not someone unlikeable, but amiable and well heeled. I double checked that last one, assuming it meant liked by most, but apparently means affluent. I suppose that is an aspect of the kitsch girl too, having seemingly endless frivolous expenses with no real strain, but that’s not important right now. People that don’t like her think so out of jealousy, or something. Envious that her clothes are all kind of shake-it-up-esque and her highlights desperately need touching up, but she still seems so enthralled with the whole of life… How does she enjoy her own company so much when other people want to know her better? Doesn’t she feel weird about blowing people off to make a joke about reading Kafka in the bath? Why would she document her cluttered, unexciting life on Instagram so delicately, so vibrantly? Of course, no one would say this to her face because they are really baseless claims. She’s nice, generous, and valuable to have as a friend. Trade-offs exist, as they do with anyone. But I like thinking it’s easier to overlook a forgotten birthday when your kitschy best friend gave you a multi strand pearl necklace to celebrate the welcome breeze of June. Or some other made-up holiday. She is so unassuming if you’re not really looking. Girls want in on her inner circle. Or they just don’t care. Nothing wrong with being liked or thought of naught, for the most part. Boys are either enthralled or repulsed by her. Her doctor knows her as something of a hypochondriac, but only minorly. It’s just carpal tunnel, don’t worry… The sales staff at CVS turn a blind eye when she slips an eyeliner pencil into her tote bag. She shoplifts on occasion, just to see if she still knows how. But she is not a shoplifter. $9 here and $6.45 there doesn’t really add up to much. Everywhere she goes, she makes a tertiary friend or two. The term of friend is loosely used here, of course. But it is nice to tell a stranger you like her earrings. Or her phone case is so fun, is it Wildflower? The kitsch girl has an eye for this kind of detail. Simply put, she is sort of unspectacular. But in a way that makes you sort of wish you knew her better.

Phone cases

The phone case is, like, religious for the kitsch girl. Sorry, but there’s just no other accessory as flippant and expensive and single-purpose as a trendy little iPhone case with some semitacky stickers plastered over the design. I used to have an iPhone XS- extrasmall-  with like, 18 phone cases. It was kind of a sordid affair. I jest, but really… owning that many phone cases was kind of sick. We get it, you are frivolous and spontaneous and sooo stylish! Stop posting mirror selfies on your Instagram story, your crush isn’t going to see it. Kidding again. Having an extensive collection of phone cases is just so fun because while attainable, most people just simply do not partake in it. That makes you kitschy and unique. I really thought I had more to say about the IDEA of the phone case, but I guess in practice it is all very, very simple. You can slide your driver’s license in the back of a clear case. At what point does it stop being cool to have legal operational control of a vehicle? I don’t display mine because I don’t really like the photo. I look round. In the eyes but also just in general, swollen, unglamorous. Whatever. Not like I drive a Nissan or anything. I drive my *Mom’s* Nissan. Playing Bladee in the car seems sacrilegious. She would hate it.Back to phone cases. Sonix ones are cute but kind of overpriced retail- unless you have like, an iPhone 12 Pro Max or whatever the fuck is new this year, just go to Winner’s. They always have Xs and 11 cases. I had a cherry one for my previous phone, like the exact one Lana Del Rey had? Thank god I sold it before she got outed as a copfucker or whatever. Casetify is for an inadvertent flex. Flexing your lame, lame taste. Sorry, I know you bought it because you liked it, but what you failed to consider is just how un-Kitsch they are. SO common, and they advertise on Instagram. Sorry, I just can’t get into it! Kind of how I just never liked the Brandy Amara tanks. Or lowtop converse. Otterbox is just distressing. Like, if my boyfriend gave me an otterbox phone case I would probably break up with him because somebody clearly isn’t paying attention- one of my favorite, potentially overused joke is how Otterbox cases are the equivalent of orthopedic insoles. Sorry but if you have poor arch support or whatever, but no pain is worth giving up a good pair of Margiela slingback tabi heels. Obviously I couldn’t afford that right now because all loose income goes directly to Wildflower and my cig boy. But like, one day. I hope you want to punch me in the face a little bit after reading that.  If Wildflower isn’t your thing, at least have the decency to get a beaded phone strap. But not from String Ting. Pray tell you aren’t keeping score, but they are one of my several parasocial enemies. That should have been ME collaborating with Wildflower! Should have been ME mailing shit to Caroline Calloway (more on her later, but she is the only blue check I follow. I adore her! I was on her patreon for a bit I thinkl!!) …. Side note. Phone cases are cute but there is no way to properly protect your laptop without looking just absurd or colossally lame. The foam sleeves… ick.

Having the shittiest music taste ever

So like, here’s the thing. I’m an Apple Music user, which sort of reinstates my status as an unironic My Bloody Valentine Hyperpop Death Grips kinda gal. Read; volcel. My most recent conquest ended up being a huge L on my part, but also… I totally dodged a bullet. The guy had an iPhone 11 (female trait) and didn’t know who Rei Brown was, which just seemed suspicious given his Niche. I just know he had a “making out playlist” comprising entirely of like, Joji. Which isn’t a bad thing I guess but so unembarrassing it horseshoes back to being humiliating.Like I said. Having the worst music taste. It’s nice how subjective and deeply personal your music taste can be; no one really Needs to know you’re a die hard drainer. But there’s also no point in being a die-hard drainer and Not capitalizing off it somehow. I added it up and I have well over 150 hours of just Bladee and Yung Lean. Which is so yass? The more I write, using myself as a case study, I realize just how desperately jobless I am. And Yogenfruz isn’t even hiring! UGH!I think there is something very kitschy about liking hyperpop in the least ironic, least obnoxious way. Sort of feeds into a “I’m not like other girls” thing, but I mean… That’s kind of the idea of kitsch, isn’t it? Be a little different but also the very same as your lipgloss brethren?!Side note. If you make monthly playlists I am genuinely kind of afraid of you. That is just so organized!! I just make playlists with esoteric titles and then make a new one when I’m sick of the stuff on the last. I have exhausted most genres but I think my favorite is the “I’m wearing f****ng air forces and my teeth are SO white”. Guess what genre it is. Or don’t, but it’s probably what you think is. Okay, moving on….

Curating a scent

I like thinking I smell like mango and peach, Glossier you, whatever citrus is in that Lush shower jelly and mint 5Gum. But of course it is probably less distinct and just kind of generally fruit-floral-mint. Anyway. I think Glossier You is the perfect scent for anyone with a rather elementary understanding of the whole.. Perfume business. Every bottle of intentional fragrance I own was made via aesthetic choices… it really helps that Glossier You is so cute And so universal. Now, Glossier is kind of interesting to me because it really is at the intersection of cheugy and kitsch. Kind of basic, overplayed, unspectacular. But also…. Often popular things are popular because they are good. Glossier has excellent customer suurv, they ship SO fast (and no import duties! W!) and their stuff is just so sweet and nice if not unoriginal, in kind of the same way strawberry ice cream is. Which is still my favorite, of course, especially if there’s a vegan option. I was talking about Glossier. What the hell! It’s really worth trying out. A huge principle of kitsch is just… having as many possible layers and appendages to your composure as possible. And adding a signature scent just really completes that! When curating your own, I say this as a complete amateur, know-nothing; make it something that comes kind of naturally to Your Character. Like, I’m just not a Chanel No 5 kind of girl. Odds are you aren’t either. My bottle (before she asked for it back when I told her I didn’t use it, in exchange for a Nordstrom’s gift card) was from my grandmother. Ummm.. Yeah, I really have no expertise in curating a scent. But it is nice to have a signature. And having a bottle displayed on your dresser next to your aughties McDonald milkshake themed beanie baby and a handful of lip products is just way too fun! This is the kind of girl I am, everyone! Cluttered, but prioritizing pretty-delicate things!

Cheugyism

Cheugy is a relatively new word that has unfortunately wormed into my vocabulary to replace “uncouth”. Which I use to mean graceless or tacky, but if that isn’t what it means…. Don’t tell me. That would hurt more than weighing myself after a “feast” slash pastry binge at my dear Grandmothe’s house. Like I was saying. Cheugy. It’s sort of a fucked up concept to me because it is a critique on consumption, but not the pace or volume or magnitude of it. But rather… the idea of not being “good” enough at engaging in microtrends, or involvement in the fast paced fashion cycle. Don’t get me started on TikTok, or do, but… yeah,. No. That will require a cigarette because I’m so sorry, but writing a thinkpiece on social media is so lowbrow I would need to find about six ways to aesthetically counteract it…. Moving on.  I think the idea of cheugy is good, we really do need a word to simply and efficiently define “out of date/uninspired/lame”. But the way it is used to shame others for not liking the same trends or whatever is kind of gross. If you use cheugyism to put other people down and not as a neutral identifier umm… you will become what you fear. Sorry, that’s what happens. Some things that I think are cheugy or embarrassing, or just not part of my stylistic lexicon are… 1. Hooded or zip up clothing, or things with a large graphic on the back. Bingo if it's all three! I just can’t get behind it. Side note, my summer home outfit is brandy sweats and a tube top (Urban Outfitters tank I ripped the straps off) and a large cardigan that should have belonged to a stoner, but probably didn’t. I can dunk on bulky, uninspired clothes because I would honest to God NEVER be caught DEAD out of the house wearing any of it. I’m so serious. Next segment should be about the kitsch girl’s inadvertent affinity for diuretics. Remind me….. One of the ports of my laptop is dead. Not really sure what to do about that.

Eye makeup and what it means to me….

Personally, I am one of those people who never wears foundation and kind of has a complex about it. The kitsch girl wears fluffy eyelashes and owns a plethora of sparkly eyeliner. Or maybe she doesn’t, but she has something distinct and a little ritzy, if not haphazard. We all saw Euphoria and it like, totally imprinted on us. The way glitter sits on your face after a long day is so resplendent. When it’s shining and a little bit melted off from your long, semi-productive day… ugh! Just made for film. Pictures on film. But not the Prequel app. I keep getting fucking ads for it. But it’s so embarrassing. Like, isn’t the whole point of film the authenticity of the moment? The texture of the afternoon? Why would you fabricate that? Prequel is just so cheugy. More on that later. But anyhow. Wearing a ton of eye makeup kind of fits with the idea of film too I think. Like, look at you, in the moment. With your strip lash falling off! It’s all so tres-chic. Plus, for whatever reason, it’s kind of unique or notably dedicated to ~Pull up to the function~ with more eye makeup on than everyone else. Sorry, but it really doesn’t take that long! But yes I will gracefully accept your praise… it’s kind of like the dropshipping of complements if you think about it. Easy to source with little to no effort in the curating. Side note, lashes are like $20 for 40 weeks if you cut them in half and use each pair about 5 times. You could probably do more but I lose track. How the fuck is it almost June? I was trudging through the snow to check the mail for my Online Ceramics shirt just last week, I swear. The trick to cutting your lashes (the way I do it anyway) is pretty simple. Get out two lashes that are symmetrical. Find the middle and cut one slightly to the left and one slightly to the right. This means you have two sets (one set is a little more dramatic than the other but at least they are symmetrical) with longer outer edges. Glue this to the outer corner of your eye and you will look so Composed… obsessed with how this layers with three eyeliner tails (one traditional one pointing up and one pointing down directly below it, sort of like the tail light on a 2019 Lexus UX) and one below your eye, like a clown. Fun, irrelevant fact, is the first time I added this third tail to my eye makeup, my dad had just gotten home from the hospital because he was sure he had like appendicitis or something and it was actually.. Not that. Typical indie hypochondriac. He made me bring him cottage cheese on a plate with a teaspoon that evening. I put black pepper on it for flair, which he hated. Walking up and down stairs with a plate of cottage cheese is much more imprinting than most of the multiplication tables. Don’t forget to use a bright shimmer eyeshadow in your inner corner. It really opens up your eyes. I recommend Too Faced.  One time I got a little bit too high and tried to film an “editorial” makeup tutorial. You will never, ever, ever see that video. But I essentially covered my whole eyelid in the ABH shadow “palermo” and smudged out the edges with a tan Tartelette Toasted shade, coupled with my long-expired Milk Makeup holographic stick. Lopsided lashes and near-blinding eyeliner experience aside, it was kind of cool. My point is, you really cannot go wrong with an arsenal of shimmers, taupey mattes and a good eyeliner pen.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

A sequel to "A Forgotten Memory"

Alex is once again tasked to continue his mission in pursuing the threat that had caused hundreds of missing persons turn up dazed the next day. But now he isn't alone, join him along with the elite Task Force 141 as they hunt down Nero, discover the secrets behind his plans and put an end to this memory erasing nightmare.

Chapter 1 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Resurgence"

"Alex"

CIA Warcom

Boracay Island, Philippines

Alex basked himself on the warm sandy beaches of the Philippines. He wasn't able to enjoy his vacation after the Nero mission, because he was sent immediately to Urzikstan and Verdansk immediately followed. And now that all of those were over, he now laid down on a beach chair and let the ocean breeze blow on his relaxed state.

Philippines was a nice country, the people were hospitable, the food was delicious and unique and the scenery was beyond amazing. Despite his metal leg, people still looked up at him the way they look at tourists and he was all of the hospitality and attention from his fellow Americans who are also on vacation to locals who were just amazed on how the leg works.

It's been a lot of months ever since Samantha forgot him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'll meet again, that's why no matter many women try to show interest in him, he shrugs them off politely by pretending he has a girlfriend. A simple lie that he built for himself in hopes of a miracle of meeting her again.

He always brought her letter with him, some edges of it got burnt from the time he manually detonated a C4 explosive to destroy a gas factory, It was almost torn and faded, but he couldn't leave it somewhere safe. He wanted it to be with him wherever he goes. 

'Don't you dare forget about me'

His phone rang. He quickly fished it from a small pouch he bought that the locals made and immediately answered.

"This is Alex speaking." he chimed.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of day Alex, but I have a feeling you'd want to jump in on this." a British accent so familiar informed him over the other side of the line, It was none other than Captain John Price or Bravo Six, a comrade he once fought with back in Urzikstan.

"I'm all ears." he said, sitting up straight and letting his metal leg sink in the sand.

"Looks like your boy Nero is back on the grid. That Sneaky bastard kidnapped the Daughter of the Head of Defense, again." Price relayed.

Alex's heart thumped faster, his breathing became quick. He wished to meet her again but not like this. Not her being in harm's way all over again.

"Shit. Count me in. But.." he hesitated. He wanted to help but remembered he disobeyed CIA orders back in Urzikstan, making him unable to provide support.

"I've talked to Laswell. She's creating a special assignment for you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means welcome to the 141, Alex." Price said as he cut off the call, followed by a message regarding his departure to their base.

~

Alex can't help but worry about Samantha's condition. They've played with her memories multiple times and he thought that it would all be over after she decided to alter everything about them. Guess the enemy didn't know and they're still after her.

The soldier leaned on to the small circular glass pane as he looked at the clouds pass by. His hands were fidgeting each other while his non-metal foot bounced up and down at a fast rate. His seatmate, who happens to be a teenager, noticed his distracting leg movement but ignored it as rock music blasted from his ears. He was a completely different Alex right now and he believed that he'll be back to normal as soon as he sees Samantha safe and within his grasp.

When you have a heavy metal stick as a leg, customs is going to be the most annoying place in the world. Everyone looked at Alex as soon as he passes the metal detector and everyone else's eyes were on him. Of course with a few more safety checks and a whole lot of explaining, Alex was good to go. 

"So, you're the one they call Alex" the heavily British accented driver mused, breaking the silence of their ride to the 141 base. He was looking at him via the rearview mirror, chewing on what Alex hoped to be gum.

"Yep. That's me." he replied, turning to the view of the British streets which confused him a lot as it was the opposite of American or even Global streets.

"Heard they thought you were dead back there. In Georgia." he added. He was quite the chatterbox but CIA Agents are all about the information.

"Yeah. Tried to manually detonate the C4. After that… I just ran for my life." Alex answered, his head was realizing why he did it. What pushed him to think that he could make it out alive. Was it because it's for the greater good? The idea of freeing Farah's country from the harm of the gas? The idea of a chance to meet Samantha all over again? Or something he couldn't explain.

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Alex. But it's a shame it's no longer in the CIA." the driver waved as Alex opened the door and unloaded his stuff.

"As long as it's still about saving the world." he replied, making the driver smile. 

"That's what we do, right?" he agreed as he entered in his car leaving Alex in front a quiet gray building, the Task Force 141 Base, his new home.

Alex pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large hall, multiple round sofas were embedded to the ground and a huge staircase that split left and right greeted him. Multiple heads turned as he opened the said door and slowly walked his way to the nearest person who happened to be panting from exhaustion by the sofa. His metal leg clanked on his every step as the soldiers begin to recognize him. They smiled as soon as Alex's eyes met theirs and some even waved, Alex met them from several missions from the past, some were from the Demon Dogs and his previous designations, Delta Force.

"Where's the briefing room in this huge building?" he asked the soldier in a black t shirt drenched in sweat as he spun his towel trying to keep up with his breathing. He didn't speak but he nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the hallway on the left. Alex left him a thanks and he walked his way to the direction where he pointed.

Just a few steps after the beginning of the hallway, the people from the main hall cheered and laughed, this made Alex turn around and he saw a young blonde man with spiky hair dash across him, he looked like he's on his way to your destination as well.

"Excuse me! Sir!" he yelled and Alex immediately halted. The young man panted in front of him and took a few seconds to breathe before he countinued his words.

"I'm Gary Sanderson, and I was supposed to guide you to the briefing room. You must be Alex." he reached out a hand and Alex shook it, quietly making your way to the room.

The huge door slid open and they found themselves in a dimly lit room, a huge screen loomed just by the wall and chairs were placed around a long circular table. Alex could spot a few familiar faces, faces he once saw and fought alongside with in Verdansk. There was the balaclava boy, Ghost, the Mohawk Man, Soap, their Captain, John Price and a few big heads from the United States. There were also new faces like Gary, who was now discussing something with another new soldier, a female soldier who sat by Price and a few new more who were already sitting on the chairs. There's also someone missing, Kyle Garrick, he pondered where he was.

The former CIA quickly saw Gary rush to Price's seat and whispered something causing him to lean on his chair, stand up and walk to his side. 

"Glad to see you back in the fight, Alex." he muttered, patting Alex's shoulder.

"I won't skip out on this mission, this one's close to home." he replied, patting his back in return.

"Yeah, heard this was your last mission before the Russian Gas." 

"Yeah. It's a loose end on my side." Alex nodded, crossing his arms.

"Good thing Shepherd had some sense in him. Not unlike your CIA heads, huh?" 

Alex nodded. He remembered he did an illegal thing against the CIA, and that was siding with Farah's forces, who were reclassified as global terror groups at that time. He silently thanked he could still step back in the fight along with the good guys even after that event.

"Yeah. I might have to thank him soon enough." Alex murmured and Price guided him to the briefing which was about to start in a few minutes.

~

"Before we start our mission briefing, I'd like to welcome each and everyone of you to the 141. A group of the most elite warriors from around the world tasked to eliminate terrorist threats lurking in the shadows. One of which, goes by the name Nero…" General Shepherd's voice was deep and serious, while the screen showed a photo of the guy they're after. His face looked punchable, as manifested by the way Alex clenched his fists while he stared at his soulless eyes.

"… whose goal is still unknown. He poses a threat as he has been out in American soil, which we believe is the one behind the multiple missing and reappearing person cases across the country." he continued, eyeing Alex. He knew a little bit about the case, maybe because he read his report.

"Since he poses no evidence of terrorist activity as of now, we are assigned to rescue and locate the daughter of Richard Coleman, America's Head of National Defense. We don't know why she was kidnapped but we believed it is or ransom or threatening purposes." The general explained, pacing back and forth, his shadow covered the screen.

Alex wanted to say something. Something about the details surrounding the case. It was written on his report. But then again, maybe the general already knew about the alteration, and since Samantha doesn't remember any IP Address, it was no longer worth noting.

Samantha's face was projected on the screen. Alex's heart began to beat faster, she looked different now, a little chubbier, longer hair and her smile felt happier. It was heartbreaking that she got caught in the crossfire again. After all those efforts of making her life normal.

'If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever. '

'Don't you dare forget about me.'

Her words echoed in his mind, using the same voice she had when they were together. 

"I will save you again if I had to.." he promised to her mentally, as he tightened the clench he was already doing.

"Our intel reports that twelve hours ago, local informants spotted an unknown flying vehicle just by the Georgian Border, local authorities confirmed that this wasn't one of their aircraft and we believe it could be the getaway vehicle of Samantha Coleman and her captors… We are still looking on to this so for the meantime I want each and one of you to be fully alert and ready for deployment."

Everyone else fell silent. It meant they agreed at what the high ranking official said. A few more words were exchanged such as new additions to the team, aside from Alex. He didn't seem to focus much on the second part of the brief as his mind worried a lot about Samantha. If his instincts were right, she's probably sedated once again, taking a trip down her own memory lane.

Chapter 2 : F.N.G.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Divide”

Hello, everyone, and welcome back! It feels good to be doing some normal RWBY-ing in this strange world of ours. First, some supplementary materials.

Number One: In response to any (valid) questions along the lines of, “Hey Clyde, it’s now been a full year since Volume 7 was airing and you still haven’t answered my ask about it. Or the ones about Volume 6… what’s up with that?” I’ve created what I hope is an informative video detailing the problem:

(I assure you, the Earth, Wind & Fire was a happy accident during the screen recording.)

Needless to say, there’s a lot and I’ve known for some time now that I will LITERALLY never get through all my asks. Which doesn’t mean I don’t want you to send future thoughts in! Just know that as we head into Volume 8 territory I’ll most likely prioritize those, as well as any Volume 7 asks that aren’t woefully out of date. But I do want everyone to know that I read all the asks I receive, appreciate them immensely, and think too much about hypothetical answers, even if I don’t have time to actually write them out 💜

Number Two: There’s a bingo board this year!

Jury’s out on whether I’ll remember to update it, but at the very least this serves as a decent glimpse into my — and others’ — expectations going into this volume.

Number Three: I’ve collected a list of things I’ve heard about Volume 8 from what seem to be reputable sources. I did this because RT is developing a tendency to talk up certain points and then fail to deliver, either because something was taken out of a volume/moved to another, or because RT apparently has radically different ideas about what including something means. So this might be handy to keep on file and ask ourselves two months from now, “Did RT actually deliver on what they promised?”

Emphasis on Ruby’s leadership and how Summer’s death has impacted her

Insight into Ren and Nora’s flaws

May Merigold will supposedly have a larger part

More information about The Long Memory (Ozpin’s cane)

Theme of the volume is that you can respect someone but that doesn’t necessarily mean you agree with them

Very short timeline (supposedly just two days)

Yang in particular is very suspicious and distrustful

I was also going to include a list of all the threads that need to be continued/wrapped up, but honestly that would have taken too large a chunk off my life. Let’s just throw out the highlights:

Are we really going to have Qrow gunning for Ironwood?

Clover is dead regardless. Press ‘F’ to pay respects

Oscar bb you got shot please acknowledge this

Ozpin bb you got done dirty please acknowledge this

Penny is a Maiden now. I feel like the fandom has been sleeping on this (myself included)

Queer baiting, queer baiting… you’re on thin ice at this point, RWBY. Just skate on over to the queer snack bar before you fall straight into the lake.  

Ren spill your deep dark secret already and it had better be something more than just ‘Oh no Nora might someday die :( ’

Salem is here so how the actual fuck is the cast surviving this?

Will Ironwood likewise survive his descent into antagonism? Yes or please yes no?

I think that’s all the biggies. I strive to keep lists like this in mind while analyzing, but honestly RWBY has a hundred moving parts that are abandoned or changed or simply retconned at the drop of a hat. So an attempt will be made.

Number Four (last one I promise!): Normal disclaimers and reminders for Recaps apply:

Please don’t fill up the already full inbox with flames. It’s still 2020. No one has time for that nonsense.

There will absolutely be typos and wonky parts because I try to get these out the same day an episode premieres. I have now been working on this for ten hours, nearly straight, and have no more energy for edits. Apologies in advance and RIP to my Saturdays.

I reserve the right to use stupid GIFs and memes at my discretion.

I strive to keep my focus on recapping/analyzing but salt tends to worm its way in… If you’re a die-hard RWBY fan with little patience for criticism, let alone (at times) snarky criticism, please proceed with caution.

No wait I lied, this is the last thing:

Okay, got that out of my system LET’S DO THIS!

We start not with the episode itself but rather Rooster Teeth’s (RT’s) strange non-promotion of it. If you follow my blog you may have caught the post where I pointed out that there was nothing on RT’s website to suggest that one of their most popular shows—if not the most popular show—was premiering today. Nothing on the main page. Nothing on the RWBY page either, not unless you count the Volume 8 poster background (easily mistaken for the Volume 7 poster) and the trailer buried all the way down past Episodes, past Merch, in the Bonus Features section along with videos like Live From Remnant and the volume intros. RT… the promotion of your feature show is not a bonus. This should be front and center! Honest to god, five minutes before the episode dropped I was checking the website for a Volume 8 section, a countdown, anything that would tell me the episode was imminent without relying on fans on tumblr to keep me in the loop. We got nada, zilch. I’m not sure whether that speaks more to RT’s iffy management of the series or simply the website’s horrible design—RIP losing RWBY on Youtube—but I was surprised when I saw the episode a few minutes after 11:00am. At that point I honestly expected to hear about a dely.

So that’s the mood I entered the premiere in, but truly? We start off strong. Things take a pretty severe nosedive later on, we’ll get to that, but I was impressed with our beginning and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that we start with our villains.

We open on a Cinderella character, Cinder, and thus I’m immediately pleased that we’re getting something about her backstory after all this time. Seven years! She appeared in episode one, folks! To say we’re overdue is an understatement. There isn’t a whole lot to go on, just a younger Cinder sadly scrubbing the floor, poised under a spotlight. What we learn, or potentially learn, is based far more in cultural knowledge than this scene. We know Cinderella’s story, which includes the abusive family, the longing for more, the eventual escape, and thus we’re able to read all of that in this image, despite the image itself not telling us any of this overtly. That means we could be wrong in our interpretation, but if we’re not it’s an easy shorthand in an already packed story.

What I’m really impressed with is the sound bridge between the scrubbing and her nails on the back of Neo’s chair. Fantastic way to confirm that this is Cinder as well as showcasing just how far she’s come. The sound of her labor has been replaced with the sound of her power and given that Cinder’s power is stolen, tied to a grimm arm, the property of a genocidal maniac… that’s messed up. It’s a Cinderella story gone wrong.

So yeah, Cinder tells Neo to head straight into the creepy, grimm infested blood cloud to see Salem and Neo is like, ‘Uh… no thank you?’ lol.

RT does a good job this episode with her expressions, ensuring we know exactly what she’s thinking despite an unwillingness/inability to speak.

Poor Neo might be in too deep, but I quite like the overall atmosphere of this opening. Say what we will about Salem’s awful characterization, at least she has style. This woman knows how to make an entrance and, piggybacking off of the Apathy, RT knows how to infuse horror elements into their fantasy. The red and purple coloring of the clouds, spiked whale teeth peeking through, bright orange in the background looking like explosions… that’s all 👌 Including the intro card.

The only thing I want to gripe about is this:

I’m sorry, why does the whale grimm have landing pads? Or something like it?? The whale otherwise works because it’s poised between the natural and the fantasy synthetic. It looks like a real grimm whale on the outside, but is sporting a throne room, a control panel, and other unnatural elements on the inside. It’s a visual indicator of Salem’s ability to control and change grimm. Now though, the additions are wrong, infringing on the line between organic and tech, the line between what helps the grimm individually (giving monkeys wings) and what just helps Salem. Every other aspect of the whale straddles that line wonderfully, adding to the creep factor, like a grimm version of the Uncanny Valley: it’s not quite a whale anymore… but landing pads? That looks ridiculous. Why does Salem even have that? How many ships are her people feasibly using? Why are there five?

Take it away, please.

Cinder waltzes in like this is a normal home visit, but Neo has an appropriate ‘What the actual fuck?’ face going on.

They approach Salem on her throne where Cinder immediately kneels, greeting her with, “My queen.” I mentioned during my trailer breakdown that I think Cinder is lying her ass off here, and I still think that based on a line we’ll get in a minute, but now at least we have a sense of how she can pull this off. A woman who started out as a (presumed) servant is going to know how to mimic subservience, even if her heart isn’t in it. Salem is very good at playing the girl who will still kneel and scrub the floor for you. She will scrub the floor, she’ll do everything you want, she’ll just be plotting her own rise to power while she does it.

There’s quite a bit of interesting cinematography in this episode, not all of it good, and I think one of the mistakes is here when we get a closeup on Salem’s mouth as she greets Cinder. A closeup like that should be reserved for more significant dialogue—“Rosebud”—and yet we get this shot again when Cinder tells Emerald to be quiet. It’s awkward and coupled with the numerous eye closeups we got in the trailer, I think RT is playing a little fast and loose with the camera. Each shot should add something to the scene, not distract from it. If you don’t have a reason for including a technique like that then leave it be.

Back to the actual dialogue though. We knew that Salem knew Cinder was alive and now it seems that she just expected her to come back? I’m slightly lost. It feels like we’re missing something here. Cinder goes off to secure the lamp, fails, nearly dies, wanders on her own for months, and then randomly shows back up on Salem’s whale doorstep, yet Salem isn’t angry at all? Did she have faith that Cinder would return when she has something to offer? Did she just not care about Cinder, considering her return an unnecessary but otherwise welcome surprise? That would make the least sense given that she holds the key to accessing Beacon’s relic… but that circles right back around to why Salem is seemingly indifferent to Cinder’s comings and goings. Surely she can’t actually believe that Cinder is loyal?

“So I trust you wouldn’t return to me empty handed,” she says. Yeah, trust means nothing in this show, Salem, didn’t you watch Volumes 6 and 7? Again, I simply don’t know. I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to confidence, that if Cinder did bail Salem knew she could track her down again. Deciphering her motivations and beliefs is a lost cause when the show continually gives us so little.

The important thing now is that Cinder does indeed have an offering and you can see that Salem is somewhat surprised at being handed the relic.

Cinder, of course, takes credit for the victory and we’re given another wonderful shot of Neo. ‘YOU took it?’

Oh, Neo. Best get out while you still can.

Tyrian appears having obviously made his way to Salem’s ship sometime between her arrival and now. The exchange is pretty standard for this group. He insults Cinder for failing and needing this victory to make amends, talks about how any win against Ironwood says more about his lack of intelligence than her skill, and Cinder… doesn’t have a whole lot of comebacks, actually. I’d say Tyrian won that verbal spar, enhanced by a better use of the camera when we get his tail looming menacingly towards Cinder and Neo.

He goes on to say that Watts was a “necessary sacrifice” so, uh… I’m just going to toss out the ask I answered yesterday. Based on our intro I’d say Watts is still significant to the volume—hacking Penny is my guess—but by the end? He could be in trouble.

(As a side note: I plan to analyze the intro next week. It’s just easier when it comes first.)

Tyrian also calls Neo “little one” which I just found absolutely hilarious. In an on brand creepy manner, that is. Not that Neo couldn’t kick his ass, but there’s something wonderfully chilling about having the serial killer use an endearment towards a potential victim, one that comments on her size while he’s looming.

In contrast, Cinder refers to Neo as a “valuable asset” and we get our third mood of the episode.

Who’s going to start a Neo reaction image collection?

It’s true enough on the surface—who wouldn’t want an ally who can turn into anyone else?—but we’re still bumping up against question of why Salem needs this. She’s immortal! She has an endless army! Magic! This scene works well with a villain who needs a skillset like Neo’s to succeed, but Salem doesn’t. RT is doing a great job writing a story thus far, just not the story we’ve previously been given. This isn’t the story they set up.

This will come back up when we reach the RWBYJNOR group. Just wait.

Before that though, the gang’s all here as Emerald, Mercury, and Hazel show up, all in new outfits.

I think I like everything except for the weird Xs on Emerald’s jacket—it’s way too distracting and frankly makes an otherwise good look ugly—and the fact that she’s showing her midriff in Atlas. Hazel doesn’t have any sleeves! Oh my god, why doesn’t anyone dress for the weather in this show?

Frankly, I found their reunion to be kind of lackluster. I mean, there was nothing wrong with it. Emerald does sound briefly excited, she does run, and it’s in character for Cinder to cut her off… it just didn’t resonate with me emotionally. I thought after two volumes of thinking she’s dead, then working through the knowledge that she’s alive, that I would feel Emerald’s shock and relief more, but I didn’t. And I’m not entirely sure why. I don’t want to level any accusations at the voice acting because frankly I know next to nothing about that skill (and from what I’ve seen it’s usually praised in the fandom), but I will say that throughout the premiere I was noticing it more than I ever have before. The lack of emotion here and some awkward deliveries later, like when Yang goes, “Ruby, there is no way Ironwood will cooperate with us” and I immediately thought, “Wow, that came out stilted.” These observations stick with me because, as said, voice acting usually isn’t on my radar. It’s not something I’ve studied or had practice analyzing. If you’d never told me that Ren or Qrow’s VA changed then after a year hiatus I literally wouldn’t notice… but there’s something about this episode that didn’t sit right. Anyone else get that sense, or was it just me?

Regardless, the arrival of our other three villains really doesn’t amount to much, though I’m happy for all the Emerald and Mercury fans who get to see them in new outfits. The focus is still on Cinder as she delivers a line indicative of her true motivations: “That power will be mine.” Yeah, she’s not loyal to Salem, she’s just power hungry. Of course, Salem immediately takes note of this and raises her hand, in another nice use of the foreground, reminding her that she hasn’t given that order.

Cinder is shocked, angry even, but quickly covers it up with her “Without you I am nothing” line. If I caught it right I think she also calls Salem “Ma’am”? Hilarious. Again, skilled at playing the servant.

Also, before I forget, it’s worth noting that almost everything from our trailer appeared in this episode. Yeah, there are a few details like Nora attacking some tech and the group on their bikes, but on the whole we’ve already seen the majority of our promo material and will likely get most of the rest next week. It makes me both interested and nervous for what another twelve episodes are going to hold.

Salem opens her whale, or opens a portal type view in it, something that gives us a long-distance look at Atlas. I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but it’s pretty so I’ll take it.

She also delivers the frankly badass line, “Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn does not make you a player.”

She waves them all away with perfect ‘You mean nothing to me’ attitude and we sadly leave our villains.

Sad not because I don’t love my farm boy, but because things are about to get a whole lot messier.

Oscar has made his way to a camp of civilian survivors… all of whom are just hanging out in the supposedly deadly cold. Yeah, there’s a single fire, but at least four of them aren’t anywhere near it. Three of them also aren’t wearing gloves. What was that survival rate again?

A nice if gruff dude gives Oscar soup—water?—while showing off his… badger claws? I don’t know what kind of faunus he’s supposed to be, but he feels like the sort of two second, minor character who could easily become a meme lol.

Oscar thanks him (my polite son!) and hands the bowl back after a single sip. Which is impressive because I would have assumed the guy was giving me the whole bowl and just taken it. Hell, I’ve done that even when I didn’t assume it’s all for me. A Starbucks barista once approached me with a tray and a plate of samples, I knew I was supposed to take just one, yet for some reason my hand went to take the whole goddamn plate. He had to tell me off, then I was trying to explain that I didn’t actually want or think I should have eight shots of cappuccino all to myself, I don’t even like coffee, he clearly didn’t believe me… it was awkward. So good job, Oscar. You’re less awkward than me (though that’s not saying much).

Now a question, Oscar. Darling. Brilliant boy who has been through too much: why the fuck aren’t you talking to Ozpin? This will be A Thing later when he presents a lack of time to talk as justification for keeping more secrets (we’ll get to that too…) yet here is time! You’re just sitting there for who knows how long, with plenty of privacy to hide a supposedly one-sided conversation so the Mantle citizens don’t get weirded out or suspicious. Talk to Ozpin. Our headmaster gets two lines in this episode, utterly inconsequential lines like his airship scene, lines that feel like they exist to say, “See? He’s still included in the story!” even though he absolutely is not. Two volumes of mostly silence, a perfect setup to start the reconciliation process, but we’re going to put it off again?

Instead Ruby randomly and conveniently appears. I want to know how she found him. Oscar isn’t wearing a tracker. He clearly didn’t call them because he’s surprised when Ruby shows up. He fell alllllllll the way back down to Mantle and then wandered to a random part of the slums. You’re telling me they flew over the entire city—after beginning this search thinking he was in Atlas—and somehow managed to spot him from up in the air? C’mon. I would have rather had a beginning where Oscar makes his way back to the group himself, giving him and Ozpin time to hash things out.

“Need a lift?” Ruby says, eliminating that potential. Sigh.

Oscar immediately starts beating himself up when he gets onboard, saying that he “was stupid to think the General would listen.” Nah, you were stupid to buy into Ruby’s nonsensical confidence and for telling Ironwood he’s as bad as Salem. Sorry, Oscar, but everyone is written badly these days. I will, however, say that I am THRILLED at the group’s reaction to his return. Ruby says that she’s “just glad you’re alright.” Nora has a wonderfully tender moment where she hugs him gently rather than her usual glomp.

That? That added a year to my life. Everyone else seems relieved that he’s okay too, so kudos there. After four years of Oscar being an outsider in the group, this is one of the few moments that feel like he’s 100% accepted. Really glad to see it.

Now let’s see if it sticks after they learn Ozpin is back...

They fly to the Happy Huntresses’ base and I again feel like I’ve missed something crucial. When did they team up? I mean, RWBYJNOR was working directly under Ironwood up until the last hour and Robyn ran off to fight Tyrian/Clover in the last couple episodes. When did she have time to explain her (briefly) changed allegiance and why would the Happy Huntresses trust the group without that? Did Robyn share that Blake and Yang went behind Ironwood’s back for her? Do the Huntresses instinctively trust them because they’re now wanted by the military? How did they even run into each other?

Again, I think we would have been better served to have an episode before all this. Let Oscar make his way back and let the group struggle with the magnitude of their situation on the airship, before they find new allies. Transferring directly to, “They have help and a secret base and a plan in the works!” makes me feel like I missed the real premiere last week. You know, the one where Salem unexpectedly arrived and we left the group like this.

This is where we’ve ended up though. The group is cozy in this hideout, getting info from Joanna, and my only other thought is, “Why is she giving all this exposition?”  

Shouldn’t it be May? I mean, we were told that she was going to play more of a role this volume, a promise that’s pretty important imo given her status as a (so far off screen) trans character, so why not put her in the role of mediator between the Happy Huntresses and RWBYJNR? Giving her that setup as a leader among her people as well as lots of lines would be meaningful. A trans character just existing and being a part of this fight! May could obviously still fill that role—I’m well aware that we’re only one episode in—but it just seems like a missed opportunity to me. Out of all the undeveloped Happy Huntresses, our premiere focuses on the one who has the least importance to the fandom.

As said, Joanna talks a fair bit but what it basically boils down to is trying to get everyone to the crater below Atlas. It’s apparently not safe, but it’s warm, which is what matters right now.

So… let me get this straight. You want to gather everyone into a not safe crater, by leading them through an army of grimm, so that they can wait there in case someone moves the Staff, thus dropping an entire city on top of their heads? That’s the plan? Which admittedly isn’t Joanna’s fault. This is another instance of RWBYJNOR having information that a leader does not and they should really consider speaking up about it. But of course they don’t.

Also, how long does everyone have in regards to the cold? Shouldn’t there be dead civilians by now? The time it would take to find the Happy Huntresses, team up with them, get settled in the base, and find Oscar says that things should be pretty grim right now (pardon the pun), yet every non-aura user in this city seems content to just hang out in the snow. Either the cold is deadly enough to justify moving everyone to the crater, or it’s mild enough to let everyone survive this long, not both.

After hugs are given everyone obviously wants to know what happened to Oscar. His response?

“It’s a… long story. I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.”

That’s a check for the bingo card! We’re halfway through the first episode and we’ve already got another secret. Yes, this is a secret. Oscar actively chooses not to tell anyone that Ozpin is back—something Ozpin himself comments on—and then skillfully draws attention away from himself with “I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.” Indeed, all eyes go to Penny. Oscar’s plight is forgotten, which is what he wanted. His justification?

Ozpin: “You’re not going to tell them?”

Oscar: “You and I aren’t done talking yet.”

Along with this look.

Oscar no. There’s so much wrong with this I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s create a list.

As said, you had plenty of time to talk to Ozpin and chose not to. Miss me with this excuse.

You are now doing to your friends exactly what you and your friends did to Ironwood, which in turn is what Ozpin did to you! I can’t believe we’ve got Oscar critically side-eyeing him when they are still—still—repeating the behavior they drove Ozpin away for.

What is there to even talk about now? Oscar didn’t punch himself/Ozpin (lol) but he did steal Jinn’s name from Ozpin in the first place. You got what you wanted, drove him away, and have been lying and keeping secrets ever since. The only thing they should be talking about involves apologizing. Any further criticism—which is what Oscar’s expression and curt reply suggests—is beyond hypocritical.

Seriously, what needs to be discussed? There’s no reason not to tell the group unless Oscar wants to talk about whether they should tell them. There’s no good ending here...

Don’t you think it would be nice to know that Ozpin is back and you’ve got super magic powers while making plans to save the entire world?

This is all especially stupid given Oscar’s “Salem wants to divide us” reminder to Ruby in a moment. Oscar, you are doing the most to divide the group right now. By not forgiving Ozpin. By refusing to work with him. By keeping him secret from everyone else.

This is bad, friends, I worry for what the rest of the volume will bring…

The story is done with Ozpin for now so I guess I will be too. The group continues filling Oscar in and we get some shots of the base, including a rather prominent poster of what I assume are two Happy Huntresses. Did they die in battle perhaps?

It’s a little strange.

Oscar: “Where’s Qrow?”

Me: “Likely still making bad decisions.”

No one knows so they just drop it. Which I kind of get, only so much you can do to find him if he’s not out on the streets like Oscar, but it still reads as kind of iffy that two nieces look down at the ground for a hot second and then move on with their plans, content to leave Qrow to whatever fate befell him. In a minute we’ll see Yang firmly take Ren’s side regarding helping the people they can in Mantle, which frankly comes out of nowhere for her. I think an easy motivation would have been Qrow. Ruby wants to save the world, Yang wants to find and save their uncle, and that just happens to align with Ren’s desire to save the civilians who need immediate grimm and cold help. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there’s finally some division between the sisters, I just wish it hadn’t come about so abruptly. Ren had setup for standing up to Ruby. Yang did not.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Joanna lists the grimm horde and no heat as the major threats to everyone. The group agrees.

Me: What about Salem?

Joanna says that this is all doubly dangerous because there’s “no more military protection.”

Me: Oh, so now you want the military?

This is all so disjointed. Even more-so when Joanna mentions that Ironwood has stopped all evacuations to Atlas, likely due to the “hard light shields” that are the only thing standing between Salem and the city. Thing is, the show never makes this connection, I just did it myself based on this scene and the one that comes later. The show presents Joanna’s line as a pure condemnation. Ironwood won’t let more evacuees in because… he’s just evil, I guess. Yet there is a justification here, namely that continuing the evacuations even while he’s stuck without Penny leaves him wide open to a Salem attack, the death of everyone currently safe, but that argument is never presented to the viewer. I don’t need people to agree with Ironwood’s perspective, I just wish that perspective was offered as an option. The show is very good about acting like RWBYJNOR’s opinion is the only justified opinion, or simply the only opinion at all.

After everything is laid out Weiss goes, “We’re never going to sleep again, I just know it.”

I could make a crack about the lack of continuity and how the group should be collapsing right now… but that was a funny line. It can stay.

What is far more of a problem is the fact that no one is talking about Salem. Okay, that’s a lie. They do talk about her, but in a roundabout way like her presence isn’t impacting every decision they make. That’s the real issue. They’re acting as if Salem isn’t here right now, like she’s off far away, maybe approaching slowly, and they’re arguing over how best to prep the world for her eventual attack. There’s no emotion here—let alone action—to reflect that the series’ Big Bad has arrived and is poised to murder them all. Literally what is this? Ruby is yelling about warning the world and, ignoring the continued question of why that’s a good thing when the world can do nothing to stop Salem and knowledge of her continually drives people to horrible acts, she has yet to acknowledge that… she’s the world? Ruby is the world in this conflict. She, Mantle, and Atlas. Salem is here for you all. Right now. You are, this instant, in the situation you want to warn others about, so why don’t you try to do something about it? Or at least acknowledge it. Ruby wants to warn the neighborhood about a potential fire while her house is actively ablaze, and the fire could have totally killed her by now but decided not to for… reasons.

“Ruby’s right,” Nora says. They have to tell the world so “they can prepare.” How? How are they supposed to prepare for this? The story cannot continue ignoring Salem’s immortality.

“Ruby’s right,” is all Blake says and I’m starting to thinks that’s why her character exists now, to agree with Ruby. It’s great that she’s getting a little distance from Yang, but man.

As Ruby asks whether Pietro can get Amity up and running despite it not being finished (called it) we start an incredibly odd sequence of flashforwards to their individual missions. I’ve seen a lot of praise for this already and though I agree that, in theory, it’s a good way to save time, I found the actual execution to be jarring. Upon thinking back through our timeline, it became clear they were flashforwards, but while watching I thought they might be flashbacks (especially since that’s more common).

Some of the shots, like Nora’s, just look awkward when you’ve got the exact expression and pose transplanted from one scene to another, like she’s a cardboard cutout behind a green screen. To say nothing of how the flashforwards ruin any suspense (I use that word loosely) in the conversation itself. If the question is, “Will they decide to go to the military compound?” then that question is answered when we see Ruby scoping out the compound, not when the group actually decides on the course of action.

It just made an already muddled scene worse for me, so I hope this trend doesn’t continue.

And of course, Amity can be used despite all the info last volume claiming that it wasn’t finished. Pietro suddenly acts like it is finished and the only thing standing in their way is Ironwood providing access. If that were the case, he would have used Amity weeks or days ago like he wanted to! When was it finished? Not after Watts commented on how incomplete it was. When did they get back the resources they needed from Robyn? It’s as ridiculous and retcon-y as I thought it would be.

Yang points out that Ironwood will never listen to them and Ruby counters that “he doesn’t have to.” They’ll just take the access from him. Because why wouldn’t they in a series where they’ve already stolen two airships? Stealing from the super evil military that Joanna wishes were helping them right now is just the group’s go-to plan nowadays.

Pietro isn’t sold on this plan though. He lists at least three obstacles they’d need to get through “and then… oh boy, I might need to think about this some more.” “And just to clarify,” Oscar says, “This is the easy option?” Um...no it’s not? We also know there’s an access point in Ironwood’s office so… why not go there instead? They really think the Academy is less guarded than the military base? There’s a potential justification here along the lines of, “After Neo and Cinder broke into his office Ironwood will have the place on high alert,” but unless I missed it the group doesn’t assume anything like that. They just listen to Pietro point out all the ways they can’t get into the military base and jump straight to that being the best option. It feels like a transparent way to create conflict for the group. We’ll just have them taking the most dangerous route despite an easy route being offered alongside it. Why bother mentioning his office at all? Just have the access in the military base. Boom, done.

It’s that conflict and the fact that Ruby tends to hear “You can’t” and digs in her heels. You can’t go to Atlas. I’ll just steal a ship then. You can’t defeat Salem. Watch me. You can’t break into this base. Guess what I’m doing! She’s dangerous in her fairy tale, meta-driven insistence that everything will turn out her way because she wants it to.

Speaking of, we finally—FINALLY—get someone challenging Ruby. Sort of. Not actually but it’s the closest we’ve ever gotten:

Yang: “Ruby, when we came here we said we’d follow your lead… but things haven’t exactly worked out.”

Now, there are two things to take away from this moment. The first is how utterly shocked Ruby and the others are. I mean, take a look at these expressions.

Ruby straight up can’t believe what she’s hearing. Weiss put her hand to her mouth like this is the most dramatic thing to ever happen to her. Oscar looks down in a ‘Yeah, I agree but please don’t look at me and make me admit that’ way. And Nora looks indifferent in the screenshot but animated she goes sort of stern, likely pissed that Yang would dare say that given her own agreement with Ruby. This not only reiterates that Yang’s challenge came out of nowhere—seriously, how did we move from following Ruby no matter what to this? Last volume she asked a single question along the lines of, ‘You sure?’ and when Ruby said ‘Yes’ Yang was entirely on board—but also demonstrates that no one has EVER said no to her before. Ruby is amazed that someone would challenge her. The act of challenging Ruby is, in and of itself, shocking. This group has gotten so used to following Ruby blindly that the teensiest little pushback is greeted with this.

Because it is teensy. This is the second takeaway: Yang barely challenges her and that challenge leads nowhere. She doesn’t accuse Ruby of anything, she doesn’t question her continued authority, she just broadly implies that things could be better. We followed you, now things are bad, take from that what you will. It’s incredibly mild as far as criticism goes, making the shock all the more, well, shocking, but it also amounts to—wait for it—nothing! Because Yang didn’t truly challenge Ruby’s leadership. She’s still in charge, she’s still calling the shots, and they’re still listening to her. We might have gotten some change if this division had been allowed to play out, but instead Jaune comes in with a, “Let’s go for both!” solution. It let’s both groups get what they want which, in turn, releases them from the need to grapple with whether they’ll listen to Ruby when she’s advocating for something they don’t agree with. We have now lost the chance to see whether, when push comes to shove, Ren and Yang will cave to Ruby’s will or stick by their own beliefs.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s more conflict than we’ve gotten in years, but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly compelling conflict. It’s good by RWBY’s standards, which doesn’t necessarily make it good. The actual issues at hand—Ruby’s dangerous arrogance, the group’s loyalty, her choices up until now—are just swept under the rug. For all the visuals we get insisting that there’s this great divide in the group… there’s really not. Not in any way that matters.

Also, Ruby is an idiot. Okay, that was mean, but she really is in this scene. She’s actually not an idiot overall because she was written as wonderfully intelligent in the early volumes, but now? Lately? She makes me want to bang my head against a wall.

“But that’s how Salem got this far,” she cries. “By dividing us!”

Ruby… oh my god, Ruby. No one should have to explain to you that dividing people means turning them against each other, not literally dividing your team to complete separate tasks. This girl honestly thought that because there was this teensy disagreement and that half the team would complete Plan A while she and the other half completed Plan B, both of which notably work towards the goal of, “Protect people from Salem,” that this was somehow what Salem wanted. That is was dangerous. Honestly, it’s a scary look at her view of leadership too: If everyone doesn’t 100% agree with me and do what I say, that’s an objectively bad thing that the grimm queen wants, right? Does Ruby think that unification means following a single person (her) without question or variation? That would explain a lot...

The fact that Oscar needs to explain the difference to her is not good. It really doesn’t say great things about this version of Ruby. Though he was comparing Ironwood to Salem last volume, so really they should all be wearing dunce hats.

Penny offers to take the relic directly to Salem in exchange for her leaving the kingdom alone. I honestly didn’t expect that. If anyone took that risk I would have put my money on Ozpin (but of course, during all this talk of the women he knows best, he’s kept quiet). Oscar is again the voice of wisdom, pointing out that they have no reassurance that Salem will keep her word. At least Penny is thinking about Salem as a threat though, so kudos for that. When this plan is shot down she volunteers to get Ruby past the military security instead and, uh, she’s a little intense about it.

I’m not entirely sure what is going on with Penny. She disagreed with Winter but then seemed to come around to her point of view, enough to help anyway. They had another (stupid) disagreement about the value of individual lives, so that helps to explain why she’s teaming up with RWBYJNOR (if you ignore that Ironwood is also trying to save individual lives...). Did watching Fria die shake her up? Is it being the Winter Maiden that’s not sitting right? Does Penny have lingering feelings about the framing that haven’t shown up until now? Her status as a ‘real girl’? We’ve got a lot of reasons that could definitely explain this sudden need to fight, but we’re not told which—if any of these—is the driving force.  

We’re then given a lot of little details. Someone points out that if Salem gets the staff and “create[s] anything else” then Atlas will fall (so yeah, let’s move the people underneath it). We still don’t know what exactly the Staff does because “creation” is kind of broad and “powering a city to float” doesn’t seem to sit within that category at all. Pietro gives Yang the keys to his lab so they can get the bikes. We see the group dividing in the flashforwards, something I do like, especially since the show has gone out of its way to break up most of the usual duos. Nora in particular is pissed at Ren for his choice.

“Oh, I’m saving Mantle because I actually believe we can do this.”

#yikes. Well, I did say I wanted a conflict other than ‘Oh no, one of us might die’ and it looks like I got it. But Nora, the only reason you can do this is because the plot is in your corner: none of you are collapsing from two major fights, you didn’t lose your aura so the cold isn’t a danger, the military is barely a threat all of a sudden, Salem is helpfully hanging out in her whale instead of killing you, and the story decided that Amity can function so long as you all are the ones who get to use it. That’s why you can do this. Ren, who follows in-world logic and doesn’t want to risk a whole kingdom’s worth of lives on a pipe dream, thinks differently, oddly enough.

As they leave though Penny gets a call from Ironwood. I know precisely what the fandom is going to say here: “This evil man is just trying to use Penny to open the vault!” Of course he is. He needs it open to save everyone he can, Penny included. Plus the concept of “using” her is a double-edged sword. What do we think the group is doing right now? Using her to get past the security. Penny’s power is a tool any way you slice it. Granted, Penny volunteers to help the group, but notably here Ruby speaks for her. Penny seems torn and Ruby takes the scroll away with, “She’s not going anywhere until you change your mind about Mantle.”

Sorry, Ruby, but coming from you that sounds less like a reassurance for Penny and more like just an order for Ironwood. Remember Harriet? We’ll stop attacking you provided you do what we want. Ruby has yet to learn about compromises, let alone acknowledge that she might be wrong. How about you let Penny decide where she goes, especially since by all logic she should have a lot of loyalty to Ironwood. She knew him before she ever met you. She’s worked with him since she was rebuild post-Volume 3. Despite what Penny has said, if the story would just let her think about his actions for a hot second—making her the protector of Mantle, sticking up for her after the framing, sending her to the party, teaming her up with Ruby, etc.—she might realize that the ‘He doesn’t want me to have friends’ and ‘He just treats me like a tool’ assumptions are just that, unfounded assumptions. But no, Ruby speaks for them both because Ironwood is evil now.

“If she makes it through our defenses,” Ironwood says, “everything that follows will be on your hands.”

That’s true! Kind of like how it’s own Qrow’s hands that Clover died. When you insist on making a bad situation worse you hold responsibility when the shit hits the fan. You know though that Salem won’t get through their defenses now, somehow, so that there’s no chance RWBYJNOR will be blamed for it. Or, by that point Ironwood will be so crazed that anything coming out of his mouth is dismissed, no matter how accurate it might be.

We then transfer to the Ace Ops who are, despite what the fandom theorized for many months, clearly upset about Clover. Also pissed. Which they have every right to be. Their friend and leader was killed. Imagine for a moment that Ruby had been murdered by Tyrian with an allies’ help. Exactly what do you think the group would do? Swallow it quietly and get over it? Ha.

I’ve already seen some speculation that Clover survived due to details like showing us the bandage and his room being listed as for a “Patient,” but he looks pretty dead to me.

He got gutted through the chest and left out in the snow for who knows how long. We saw him slip away. Qrow screamed over his dead body. He’s not breathing now. If RWBY suddenly claims he survived this, I’m calling BS.

Most of the other visuals we get here were already dropped in the trailer. Winter is pretty injured from her encounter with Cinder, likely permanently based on her new outfit. Ironwood had to replace his arm—and I am calling BS on that “Losing his arm is reflective of him losing his humanity” commentary from RT. Please go read up on a couple decades worth of ableism in media and then get back to me.

We get Ironwood’s line about the light shields and, notably, a whole lot of empathy. Regardless of what he might want Penny for, he still called her with compassion. He’s watching the Ace Ops mourn their friend. He’s talking about protecting his kingdom. The first thing he says to Winter is, “Thank you, Winter. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Ironwood has a heart! It’s always on display, which makes this scene utterly ridiculous.

I literally don’t know how to respond to this. The gunshot made me jump, both because it’s a gunshot and because, again, what the fuck? I know I said that next volume RT might just have Ironwood descend into full villainy, shooting whoever he pleases now that he’s shot Oscar, but I didn’t actually expect them to do it. Because he never should have shot Oscar in the first place! I wanted the story to let Oscar grapple with it a bit and then quietly backtrack, acknowledging it as the mistake it was. The concept that Ironwood, empathetic Ironwood, rational Ironwood, always thinks before he acts Ironwood, let’s kids yell at him Ironwood, tried to team up with Robyn Ironwood, did everything Ruby wanted Ironwood, won’t kill Watts after he destroyed his arm Ironwood would shoot this guy just to shut him up is absurd. It was absurd then, it’s absurd now.

That being said, there’s a possibility he didn’t actually shoot the council member, but rather just (“just”) gave a warning shot down the hallway. I say this because the reactions to this are pretty tame. Everyone looks startled, yeah, but after the initial shot there’s nothing that I would expect if there was now a guy bleeding out on the floor. The council woman doesn’t scream. Winter doesn’t seem overly shocked. No one is running to try and help him. Basically, if Ironwood had just killed a political figure in front of six witnesses, entirely unprovoked, I would expect a bit more of a reaction than this. This feels far more like a, “Damn he’s not joking around, letting off warning shots to get people to leave him alone” not “WOW, our general just killed someone in cold blood!”

What I really hate though—beyond just assassinating his character—is how many fans think my friends and I are delusional for calling it character assassination at all. I hopped onto the RWBY tag for five minutes this morning and was bombarded with posts about how Ironwood needs to be murdered horrifically, anyone who likes him is sick, the Ironwood stans are as bad as Adam stans, you’re an idiot if you want him redeemed… because apparently the concept of a story writing a character badly doesn’t compute. I’m not here to argue that Ironwood didn’t do these awful things (regardless of whether he actually killed the guy or not). I’m not here to argue that they’re not awful. I’m just here to say that we never should have gotten these scenes in the first place, or if we were going to get them, we deserved an actual descent into murder at the drop of a hat territory. I’ve already explained extensively on this blog how early Ironwood was not accurate foreshadowing for this, and Volume 7 certainly wasn’t setup, but it looks like the majority of fans aren’t interested in examining whether any of this adds up. Which makes my job, as someone trying to examine this series somewhat objectively—in as much as that’s possible for any single viewer—as well as simply enjoy it as a show, really hard. It’s bad enough when a story keeps taking the characters you love and villainizing them, and doing that badly, but then when you turn to the community and see them rallying around the idea that you’re awful for being dissatisfied—you’re the bootlicker, you’re the blind stan, you can’t see what’s ‘really’ going on here… that sucks. For those of you happy and satisfied with Ironwood’s arc, that’s great! I’ve also seen a lot of posts hyping up the complexity of his character now. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what we’ve been given and I’d never want to imply that just because it’s not what I wanted it’s somehow wrong. I’m honestly thrilled that after a year of worry so many people have adored our premiere, including this scene. I just wish that I could say RWBY had given me something I didn’t want in a persuasive manner and that the fandom as a whole was a bit more welcoming of differing criticisms.

Not that I didn’t already know the RWBY fandom had its flaws, but still lol.

That’s basically it for our premiere. Nice note to end on, huh? Our final scene is of Salem using the lamp to set her bloodhound grimm on the city. Why doesn’t she just go herself? What was she planning to do here in Atlas in the first place, considering that getting the relic was a surprise? Who knows. Little about this holds together. But we do end with another awesome shot, so small favors.

It’s always strange concluding a recap, but even more-so when it’s a premiere, during a historical moment in the U.S., amidst all the nonsense that is 2020. So for now I’ll just conclude with three quick things:

The updated bingo board will be listed at the end of each recap, provided I don’t forget about it lol. Today I’m checking off tone (not nearly enough freaking out about Salem), the team keeping secrets (Oscar), and major plot point dropped (Amity is suddenly finished). I could also probably check off the cold not killing civilians and getting Amity up and running, but we’ll see if any changes with those.

I’m including my Ko-Fi link at the end of recaps now. Not with any expectations. Not with anything resembling pressure. I thought long and hard over whether to include it at all—let alone mention it here—because I love doing these and never want anyone to feel like it comes with strings attached. But life is a little harder and weirder than it was last year, so I figure it can’t hurt. Feel free to pass on by and I won’t be bringing it up past this note.

Far more importantly: thank you for reading! :D

(Bonus 4. Editing this was an absolute nightmare — damn you, tumblr!  — so I apologize if anything is super wonky when I finally post.)

See you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[akakeiiji]

-`,✎ Meteor Showers and Milk Bread — Oikawa Tooru

→ synopsis: when tooru sneaks out of the palace in secret, wanting to explore and experience the city for himself, he doesn’t expect to spend the entirety of his evening with an odd, brash, and frankly rude mage but he wasn’t complaining

→ pairing: prince!oikawa tooru x fem!reader

→ genre: royalty au, fluff, angst if you squint enough 

→ warnings: none (i think)

→ word count: 6.2k

→ taglist: open (just message/send me an ask!)

[ part two coming soon ]

If you’re wondering what “Planus” is, please go to google translate: Latin to English. I just thought that it was very befitting for our precious little birthday boy. 

I wasn’t planning to make this a two-parter but I wasn’t able to finish this in time before Tooru’s birthday so here we are. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to finish the second part but I’ll try my best to get it out soon. 

Anyway, happy birthday Tooru, I love you so much even if I do bully you a lot ♥︎

Even after all these years, it still never ceases to both amaze and perplex Tooru how unfailingly consistent the royal guards are. When he was younger, he mistook them as a hindrance to his schemes but now he was older, smarter, and eternally grateful to their unnatural punctuality and constancy, that of which turned out to make his life a whole lot easier.

He keeps his eye on the small, practically invisible peephole, peering into the dark—yet still grand—corridors from behind the large oaken doors of his bedroom. His left hand—uncharacteristically bare, devoid of any of his usual rings and other flashy accessories—was held firmly on the golden door handles, his other clenching a small, equally gold, pocket watch.

He stands in silence, the slow, monotonous ticking of his watch being the only sound filling the bedroom.

And then, just like the intricate clockwork of his watch, a pair of armor-clad guards appear from the around the corner of the hallway just as the clock struck twelve. Tooru grins at the sight, “Just on time.” He chuckles as he carelessly stuffs the watch into his cloak.

He waits not-so-patiently as he watches the guards march rigidly through the corridor. Could they be any slower? Tooru thinks to himself, his foot tapping rapidly.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennium, the guards pass by Tooru’s quarters—their eyes trained on the grand entrance to the room—unaware that he was watching them carefully.

Tooru definitely didn’t regret secretly installing the peephole. He worried about it being cursed, the witch who sold it to him seemed odd, but in the end, the trade proved to be worth it. Whether it was cursed or not was still up for discussion though.

Tooru waits for a few more seconds after the guards marched out of sight around the other end of the corridor, ensuring that they were out of earshot before beginning to twist the door handle open in a painstakingly slow pace, wincing slightly at the loud click it emitted. He opened it just enough so that he could barely squeeze through and took one last look into his bedroom.

He hoped the pile of pillows he arranged underneath his covers was enough to trick any unwanted visitors throughout the night. Though Tooru knows only one person would have the gall to suddenly barge into his quarters at such an hour and he doubts this would be enough to deceive his ever so perceptive personal attendant.

Speaking of Iwaizumi—or rather, Iwa-chan—his clothes are frankly much too large on Tooru. It must have been the result of his relentless training with the other swordsmen and guards in the palace.

He didn’t want to have to borrow (read: steal) Iwa’s clothes like this, but nothing in Tooru’s large, ever-expanding wardrobe would be inconspicuous enough to suit his needs for that night. He needed to keep a low-profile, to remain hidden and unnoticable. The complete opposite of his usual self.

After all, the Prince of Seijoh can’t be out and about meandering around the city all on his lonesome. It simply isn’t safe, it isn’t ethical, it just isn’t allowed for His Royal Highness.

Tooru can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. He could clearly imagine all the royal advisors, attendants, and anyone of high position really, telling him all this if he gets caught during one of his many escapades to the city. He could already feel the long, drawling lecture from his parents and the cold stare of his sister who would be upset not over the fact that Tooru snuck out of the palace but because he didn’t take her with him.

No, it was one thing for the prince to sneak out but for the crown princess to so much as step foot outside the palace grounds without her cavalry of guards and mages? It was simply unimaginable.

Tooru reaches the end of the hallway. Careful to only step on the soft velvet carpet lining the marble floors as to not make any sounds, he edges towards the wall and peers around the corner. As usual, guards were stationed at every alcove of the corridor, ready to attack any and all intruders, trained to jump and pounce at any sound they hear. Which was fair, they were protecting the royal family after all. Which of whom would be fast asleep by now if they were the obedient little royal they ought to be, if they weren’t Oikawa Tooru.

It was a good thing Tooru memorized the palace as if it were the back of his hand. There was no need to bother with the guards lining the main entrance of the royal chambers when he could just use the servants' passageways.

He palms the wall blindly until he finds the one brick he had to press to reveal a small entryway on the once bare wall. He slips in before the entryway conceals itself once more.

It was admittedly an oversight made by the countless architects and engineers that designed the palace. Or maybe they just didn’t think that a royal such as Tooru would know that such passageways existed. Regardless, he didn’t care, what mattered was that he could now maneuver freely around the castle without worrying about the myriad of guards stationed all over the main hallways.

Palace surveillance was light in the servants’ quarters and areas. As Tooru nears the foot of the stairs from the maze of passageways in the castle, he could already hear the rowdy laughs and rambunctious voices of the numerous other inhabitants of the castle. It was at this hour where chambermaids, cooks, out of duty guards, and the like would be able to rest and relax, free from their usual day to day responsibilities in the castle. Tooru loved it here.

He wished he could stay but he pulls the hood of his cloak over his head and steps out from the stairwell, trying to seem as casual as he could.

Of course, nobody pays him any mind. There are hundreds of people coming and going in this area of the castle every day, Tooru was only one of very, very many. He snatches an apple from a farmer’s basket as he skips out through the back gates of the castle, one exclusively for the castles many servants and workers, a triumphant smile on his face.

When one thinks of Prince Tooru, they think grandeur, they think regalia, and such. The people of Seijoh know about his brains, his charms, and his wicked good looks, but not many have actually had the pleasure of seeing the prince with their own eyes. At least, not without knowing it was him.

No one would have expected that the boy wandering around the streets—the one with a look of pure, childlike wonder in his eyes—clad in an oversized tunic, loose pants, and a ratty cloak would be the infamous prince. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite the late hour, the city was still bright and bustling, shops were still open, lanterns were still lit and the streets were still lined with people, for it was the night the Planus meteor showers would grace the skies.

Tooru had been waiting for this day for years, the minute he read about them from his absurd collection of astronomy books, he knew he just had to see them for himself, only to find out that they occurred once every fifteen years. He was barely three years old the last time they appeared. Just his luck.

He had absolutely no clue why the castle wasn’t hosting a grand ball or banquet of sorts right now. There should be a celebration of some kind for such an event but no, they’d rather celebrate the birthday of some old, long deceased great-great-uncle of theirs—which was hands down, one of the dullest balls Tooru had ever attended in his life—than celebrate this.

At least the people of the city had their priorities in order; there was a three-day festival all for the meteor showers. Tooru made a mental note to tell his sister to create that day a kingdom-wide holiday when she becomes queen.

A part of Tooru is glad that there wasn’t any form of an event held that night though. It would have been virtually impossible to slip away unnoticed if that were the case and he’d never be able to witness the city in such a state.

Large golden lanterns were strung across the roads, tied to the street lights, basking the city in a warm, orange glow. Food stalls were set up in every corner selling snacks ranging from traditional sweets of the kingdom to eccentric fruits and drinks from far away countries. Jesters and wizards were performing acts and magic tricks in front of starstruck children. Crowds were gathered in the city square, where loud music was playing and people were dancing around the statue of Tooru’s great-great-grandparents, the crowd clapping along with the beat of the music—which Tooru noticed was coming from a group of instruments playing themselves, obviously the work of a skilled mage.

Tooru was clapping along with the crowd, watching the dancing couples flit gracefully around the square when a familiar scent meets his nose. His eyes tear away from the scene in front of him and finds himself staring at a small bakery, more specifically at the familiar pastries set on display by the open windows.

He bought three milk bread buns that night. Two more than he probably needed but he didn’t care. They weren’t like the ones served at the palace; the buns were smaller, denser, and not uniform in size or shape. The ones usually served at breakfast were always unnaturally consistent and identical to one another. Each one was the same size, the same shape. They were all meticulously scored giving the buns intricate designs yet even those were uniform as well.

The commoner buns were better.

Perhaps the choice of analogy could be better but Tooru thinks about how the two milk bread buns perfectly described the way he felt about the members of nobility and commoners.

Though plain, though unrefined and rudimentary, in the end, the simple milk bread buns from that little bakery down the street could beat the seemingly perfect ones at the royal palace, the ones prepared by the cavalry of specially trained cooks and staff.

Unlike the ones served at the palace, the ones he had in his hands right now were more filled with life and personality—if that even made any sense. He could tell that they were made with love, with care from the elderly couple that ran the bakery. It didn’t matter that it was flawed, not as intricately designed or made with expensive ingredients, these were loads better than any other bread the palace could have served him.

This was probably why Tooru loved being out in the city so much, devoid of his usual riches and regalia. This was also the reason why his best friend was his personal attendant instead of some other prince or noble. They were far more real than any other royal he’s met before.

Tooru is suddenly pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of yelling from afar. He follows the crowd of people who too were drawn towards the person, trying to get close enough to understand what he was trying to announce to everyone.

“—Make way! It’s starting! Everyone make way!—”

Tooru only manages to catch these words because suddenly, like a deafening canon, everyone around him starts cheering and whooping excitedly. He barely has time to react when people start clearing the middle of the roads, pushing themselves onto the sides of the brick sidewalks in a matter of a few seconds, squishing Tooru between a wall and the backs of the still cheering crowd.

Everyone was facing the cleared out road in front of them, their eyes trained at the end of the street evidently waiting for something to appear.

Tooru struggles out from in between the wall of people and the actual wall he was stuck in and walks along the streets, behind the lines of people.

“Erm—excuse me?” Tooru starts, tapping the shoulder of the nicest looking person he could spot. “What’s happening?”

The man shoots him an incredulous look, one that asked are you serious? “What’s happening? How could you not know what’s happening?”

Once it was evident that Tooru really was serious, the man chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “Not from around here, huh?”

Tooru laughs sheepishly, subconsciously tugging his hood down even more. “You could say that.”  

The man goes to explain but his and Tooru’s attention were torn away when loud music began playing from the end of the street. Tooru was glad he was tall because he was able to see even from behind the crowds of people.

It was a parade. Of course, it was, how had Tooru not realized? He internally smacked himself for his momentary stupidity.

He stands on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view of the gargantuan floats coming nearer and nearer. The first one was the size of two carriages stacked on top of one another and it was designed to look like meteors were on top of them. It obviously had some sort of magic imbued in them since they were glowing brightly, basking the street with blues and purples.

Tooru has never seen anything like this before. His brown eyes are wide with amazement as he follows the floats with them, his mouth agape. He could imagine his teachers scolding him for doing so, saying it was unsightly to hang his mouth open like that.

Commoners never fail to amaze him.

The other floats were similar to the first one, though they featured different things such as jesters, mages, centaurs, and pegasi. His personal favorite was the one of a giant griffin, its wings were charmed to flap and spread out as it rolled by, blowing wind into the faces of the crowd. Tooru’s hood was blown back but he didn’t notice nor care. He could barely hear the music from the band of players marching by the floats over the screaming and oohing of the crowd but Tooru was able to catch a few words from a pair of girls in front of him.

“—Mina look! It’s the royal float!” She points her finger out to a white float from afar. Her friend giggles, trying to get a better view. “I know! The man playing Prince Tooru is so handsome.”

The what playing the what now?

Tooru follows the girl’s finger and finds himself staring at a float of the royal palace. It showed the facade of the castle, it even had the same flags perched on the rooftops, but what caught Tooru’s attention however were the four figures standing on the turrets of the float, waving at the crowd.

There were people playing as the royal family. They were dressed in luxurious robes: fur-lined cloaks, epaulettes, and gowns—though Tooru suspected that they weren’t actually made of the same material as the real ones back at home.

He saw a couple playing as his mother and father, waving politely to the crowd. They didn’t look exactly like his parents of course but they were able to find actors that looked sort of like them, which makes sense, the king and queen have made frequent public appearances in the city.

However, what really caught Tooru’s eye were the ones playing him and his sister, who unlike their parents, have never been seen by the public.

His sister was played by a woman in her twenties, dressed in a lavish pink gown his actual sister would never have even looked at, waving enthusiastically at the crowd, sending flying kisses and throwing petals towards them.

He would have laughed if he had not seen the man playing himself.

He was probably around fifteen, years younger than he was. He was smiling devilishly at everyone, winking and shooting looks at all the girls in the crowd. He had an air of pompousness around him, especially with the way he ran his hands through his curly blonde hair.

Yes, blonde. They hadn’t even gotten his hair right.

Asides from that he was waving a sword around at the sky, yelling about how he’s vanquished dozens of dragons—which Tooru has never and, frankly, will never do.

Tooru scrunches his face in disgust as he listened to this child make a fool of himself—which in turn made a fool of Tooru. He could admit, it was childish to feel so offended by this but he couldn’t help it.

He starts walking in the direction the floats were headed at, his eyes still trained at the “royal” float, wanting to hear more despite knowing how it would just irk him even more.

Tooru was even more horrified when the boy pulled out a rose and started announcing his love to a princess from Niiyama. Tooru would rather eat a toad than marry the frankly terrifying princesses of Niiyama who intimidate him to no end.

“HEY WATCH IT!”

Tooru really should have been paying attention to where he was going because before he knows it, he’s laying on the sidewalk. His hands were flat on the ground, bleeding slightly after the impact of the fall.

“Ow—ow—ow.” Tooru hisses as he stares at them. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Iwa tomorrow. He suddenly sees a sight much worse than his scraped hands.

“My milk bread!” Tooru cries out, staring at the two remaining buns which were tucked safely in his bag, now trampled and squashed on the street. Tooru could feel a piece of his heart breaking off at the sight.

His attention is torn away though by you, the person he ever so gracefully crashed into.

You, however, paid no mind to Tooru or the tragic loss of his milk bread. You were too busy examining a large telescope you seemed to be carrying earlier, not even caring that you were laying in the middle of the dirty street as you searched for any sign of damage on the instrument in your hands.  

“Oh thank god.” You sigh in relief, realizing that it was fine and only sustained a few scratches.

“Are you alright?” Tooru asks, holding his hand out to place it on your shoulder.

You whip your head towards Tooru, the relieved expression on your face turning to one of annoyance as you glared at him. Tooru freezes.

“Yeah and no thanks to you.” You huff as you clutch the telescope protectively to your chest, veering away from his hand. Your eyes then fall on your papers and books which were now littered all over the brick sidewalk and you gasp. “My notes! Great, thanks a lot pretty boy.”

Pretty boy? Tooru retracts his hand, his bottom lip jutting out slightly, and instead goes to help you pick up the rest of your papers. He couldn’t help but stop and stare at one of the papers he grabbed. It was a star chart, not unlike the ones he sees in his astronomy books, but this one was covered in scribbles and writings. Tooru realizes that these are runes, the same one he sees the mages employed at the palace read and write.

“Hey, here are your—” Tooru says as he heaves himself up only to find you gone, the space where you were just laying on empty. He twirls around to find you running around a corner, your cloak billowing behind you.

“—notes.” He trails off, staring at the thick leatherback book and pieces of parchment in his hands. As much as Tooru wanted to just leave them on the side of the road and go buy more milk bread to replace the ones he just lost, he knew he had to return the important looking papers back to you.

Curse him and his morals.

He runs after you, turning the same corner you did to find himself staring at a small street that had stone stairs leading up along it. You only had a few seconds headstart but somehow you already made your way to the top of the stairs, turning another corner towards another street, paying no notice to Tooru’s calls.

“Good god.” Tooru sighs as he runs up the stone steps after you, beginning to question his life choices.

He continues to follow you through the winding, labyrinth-like streets of the city. The farther you two went from the city square, the fewer people there were, and the darker it became. Tooru was beginning to think he’d lose you when he suddenly turns the corner and finds himself staring at a massive, open field.

You two were at the edge of the city, on top of a large hill. Trees surrounded the field which was covered in flowers filling the area with a sweet scent.

You rush over to a patch of grass that didn’t have flowers growing all over, gingerly placing the telescope beside you and then throwing everything else to the ground with no disregard. Tooru watches from behind you, bent down, and clutching his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

You two essentially ran up dozens of flights of stairs and roads that were all uphill but you didn’t seem affected at all whilst Tooru was basically dying from exertion.

Again, curse him and his morals.

“Where is it?” You cry out as you sort through the pile of papers and books on the ground. You take out your bag and begin sifting through it, praying that you’d find that specific volume of astronomy 101 you needed for your study, but alas, it had vanished.

Your mind flashes back to the time you fell in the streets, dropping all your things and you slap your forehead in frustration. “Pretty boy!” You wailed in realization.

Perhaps you still had time, maybe you could run back and find it back at the square. Hopefully, no one had taken it and it was still there.

“Looking for something?” You whip your head back to find none other than Pretty Boy and, more importantly, your textbook in his hands.

“Did you follow me?” You gasp, getting up from your spot and walking over to Tooru, who was still heaving. You grab the book and papers from his hand and flip it open; It really was your missing textbook. You sighed in relief, placing the book against your chest.

“I’m pretty sure a thank you is in order.” Tooru quips, shooting you a look as he straightens himself. He was much taller than he seemed at first glance.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you were actually paying attention to your surroundings.” You state as you lightly poke his chest and you turn to march back to your little spot in the field. Just like earlier, Tooru’s bottom lip juts out, one eyebrow raised.

“But thank you—I guess.” You say stiffly, looking over your shoulder a bit. Tooru’s expression immediately lights up at these words.

Much to your surprise—and annoyance—he follows after you, matching your pace so he was walking by your side, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?” He declares this more than asks really, a knowing smile resting on his lips. “No—a mage’s apprentice.” He adds quickly, correcting himself.

You glare at him, ignoring his question, as you flop back on your spot beside your books and papers. “And why are you still here, exactly?”

Tooru looks back at the city behind you two sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Multiple reasons.”

“Do tell.” You voice, setting up your telescope in front of you. “I’m ever so interested.”

Tooru ignores your blatant sarcasm and takes a seat beside you, also ignoring your groans at this action. “First things first, I have no idea how to get back to the square, I’d probably just get lost and spend the rest of the evening wandering around aimlessly.”

“Secondly,” Tooru stretches his arm up over his head and leans back onto the soft grass, his forearms cushioning his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“We didn’t even go that far.” You comment, raising an eyebrow at the male who was staring up at the sky. He gasps dramatically and turns his head towards you. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never ran so much in my entire life, I feel like I just scaled a mountain.” He lifts a hand, his pointer finger thumb just barely touching. “My legs are this close from snapping off.”

You snort, turning your attention back to your telescope. Tooru beams, pride swelling at his chest at the fact that he made you laugh—well, sort of laugh. He turns his entire body towards you so that he’s laying on his side, his right arm extended over his head, his cheek resting on his palm.

“You never answered my question.” He starts, staring at your pile of papers and books. “You are a mage, right?”

“Well you aren’t wrong but you also aren’t right.” You respond, purposefully cryptic. Tooru rolls his eyes, deciding to just drop the subject. “Fine, don’t tell me, whatever.”

His attention is turned towards your telescope when you let out a satisfied hum as you finally finished setting it up, his eyes brightening at the instrument. He’s never used a telescope, the royal mages at the palace had them but they never allowed Tooru to use them before.

“Can I try?” You smack his hand away from the instrument, Tooru huffs rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Absolutely not, you’ll just break it.”

Tooru’s pout returns as he groans. “No, I won’t, come on I’ll be careful, just this once, please.”

“After what happened just earlier, you don’t exactly have the best track record for being careful.” You chide, pointing at the base of the telescope. “Look, it’s scratched now.”

Tooru puffs his cheeks as he stares back at you and back at the telescope again, mulling over what to say.

“Well, you aren’t the only one that was affected by the fall earlier.” Tooru begins, sighing dolefully. “I lost my precious milk bread.”

You let out the same snort from earlier. “Yeah, because milk bread is just of equal worth as a telescope.”

An indignant gasp escapes from Tooru’s lips, “Don’t belittle my milk bread.” A hand rests on his chest as he speaks. “I don’t know how I’ll ever recover.”

A silence falls between you two before you both start chuckling at the absurdity of his words. This was rare for Tooru, letting out an actually genuine laugh with a person that wasn’t Iwa or his sister.

He surprisingly feels way more at ease than he thought he would. He’s always been guarded towards strangers, always polite to them as to not offend and inflict the wrath of his advisors and personal attendant but never nice enough to blossom new friendships. He was perfectly satisfied with the people he had in his life now, he didn’t need any more than necessary.

But somehow, he found himself drawn to you and your brash attitude and sarcasm. He knew you didn’t have the slightest clue that he was the prince of the kingdom but it was still odd to be treated in such a way. The vast majority of the people at the castle would freeze and stiffen when he was near, their eyes always trained at the ground as if eye contact with him was forbidden, which it certainly was not. They’d avoid having to speak to him if they could, and if they couldn't they’d always regard him as “Your royal highness” or “Prince Tooru”.

They’d probably faint at the mere idea of calling him Pretty Boy.

This was another reason why Tooru was so close to Iwaizumi. He wasn’t afraid of him. Yes, he was the prince but he was first and foremost a person, and Iwa knew this and never walked around eggshells with him. He wished more people were like him. More like you.

Tooru watches as you peer into your telescope, scribbling rapidly on a spare piece of parchment, taking note of something Tooru couldn’t see. He whines loudly.

“Just let me try. I’ll be careful, I swear!” He pouts at you once more as he inches closer to you, shooting you his infamous puppy dog eyes but you were unperturbed. You flick his forehead causing him to fall back to his previous position, groaning in defeat.

“You’re just like the mages at the palace, they never let me—”

“Palace?”

Tooru freezes, you freeze too, shooting him a quizzical look, your quill now lax in your hand.

“As in the palace? That royal palace?” You ask, pointing at the aforementioned building which was visible even from where you two were. Tooru’s really done it now this time.

“No! I mean, yeah—I, erm—work there.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact, his thumbs fiddling around each other nervously but you pay no notice to this as you stare in awe at the glowing building. “Woah, that’s cool.”

“Not really, it’s not as great as it seems.”

“Are the royal family snobs?” You tilt your head to the side. “I don't know, I just assume they are. Most of them are.”

“All royals are snobs.” Tooru says wistfully.

You bite the inside of your cheek, you may not know him but you could tell that this was a sensitive subject for him. You decide to just drop the subject.

You instead throw yourself to your work, continuing on writing down the names of stars and movements of certain planets and such. Tooru continues on pestering you, asking you questions about what you were doing and commenting on certain things he saw in your textbooks—you gave up on telling him off for touching your stuff. He surprisingly knew a lot more than you expected for someone who wasn’t a mage.

“—which is why I believe that there is life outside of Earth. Perhaps in some other planet or something.” Tooru finishes off, he had been rambling about extraterrestrial lifeforms for the past ten minutes. “Don’t you think so too?”

You shoot him a look, ignoring his question. “Do you ever shut up, Pretty Boy?” You jeer halfheartedly, he chuckles. “Only when I want to.”

You roll your eyes as you close your book. Finally done with your assignment. All you had to do now was wait for the meteor shower. You lift your arms up, stretching after staying in one position for such a long time. Your eyes fall on the man beside you, who was staring longingly at your telescope as he bit his lip apprehensively.

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to beg once more but you cut him off before he could. “Fine, but if you break it, I will curse you into oblivion.”

Tooru’s face lights up instantaneously, jumping up from his position in the grass and crawling to the telescope, he gingerly takes the instruments in his hands before he gives you a look which asked are you sure?

“I said it’s fine, go on before I change my mind.” You urge, waving a hand. Tooru lets out a wide grin, his eyes brimming with excitement before he peers into the telescope.

Every so often, he’d let out a small gasp or “Woah!” as he observed the night sky. Just like earlier, he’d ask you a few questions about unfamiliar stars of constellations. He reminded you of a child being in a toy store for the first time.

After some time, Tooru straightens and turns to you, a satisfied smile gracing his features. “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” You lightly punch Tooru’s arm. “But don���t think I forgot about earlier. Telescopes are expensive, you know. I doubt you’d be able to afford a replacement.”

Tooru’s small smile doesn’t leave his lips even as he rubs his arm. How funny, a commoner telling him, a prince, that he couldn’t afford something. He remains silent though.

“Hey, what’s that on your hand?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you scooted closer to him, staring at his hands. Tooru turns it over so that his palm was face up and stares at the scapes on them with a look at that say oh I forgot about that.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” But you were already digging through your satchel, ignoring his protests. You pull out a small vial that was full of a thick red concoction.

“Okay, what is that?” Tooru says suspiciously, instinctively veering away from the potion. You roll your eyes, opening the vial. “It isn’t poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You hold out your free hand towards Tooru. “Just trust me, okay?” You ignored the fact that you were a total stranger and pushed on.

You hadn’t the slightest clue why you were even doing this, using an invaluable healing potion for some stranger’s minor scrapes but here you were anyway.

Tooru reluctantly slides his hand over yours and you pour a few drops of the potion onto his palms. You put the vial down beside you and begin spreading the substance over his wounds. His hand was oddly soft, as if it hadn’t done a single day of work in its life but you chose not to comment on this.

Tooru winces, the potion stinging at first before a cooling sensation instantaneously spreads on his hand. He sighs at the feeling.

“Okay, other hand.” You instruct, letting go of his right hand. Tooru follows obediently.

He stares, not at his hand on top of yours, but at your face. At your concentrated expression and the way you bit your lip as you worked, something you must do when you were focused since he saw you do it often as you worked earlier. He may or may not have been watching you.

Then he realizes it. He doesn’t even know your name.

“I never asked, what’s your—”

“Oh my god! Pretty Boy look! It’s starting!” You jump up from your seat rushing to your pile of notes, looking for a blank piece of parchment. You pull one out and stare up at the sky, writing down your observations as you did so.

Tooru whips his head around and watches the bright lights whoosh through the night sky as it basks everything in a myriad of colors, mixes of purples, blues, and greens. His eyes are as wide as saucers, his lips forming an “o” shape as he stared at the sky in awe.

He’s never seen anything as beautiful as this before in his entire life.

He turns to you, ready to jabber excitedly, only to find you frozen in place, quill and parchment forgotten on your lap as you marvel at the sight before you. Tooru decides to stay silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He can’t help but sneak glances towards you every now and then as the meteors flew by. He could admit, you were actually pretty when you weren’t getting annoyed at him. Okay, fine, you were actually beautiful. Especially with the way the flurry of lights shining over you, the meteors reflected on your eyes, making it seem like they were glowing in the dark.

“I have to admit something,” Tooru says when the last meteor flew past the two of you. “I lied earlier.”

“About what?”

“Well, I told you that I couldn’t go back to the square because I’d get lost,” Tooru explains, grinning slightly. “That was just an excuse, I really just wanted to stay because you seemed interesting.”

You flushed but you hoped it wasn’t obvious in the dark. You smacked him on the arm once more out of reflex. “That’s so creepy.”

A comfortable silence falls between you two as you stare at the sky, unaware that Tooru’s remained fixed towards you.

“Hey, I just realized that I don’t know your name—”

“SHITTYKAWA!”

You and Tooru jump like frightened cats at the booming voice. Thunderous stomps approach you two and before the both of you know it, Tooru was lifted onto his feet by the collar, being dragged away back to the streets by a man around your age who was yelling angrily the entire time.

You couldn’t catch everything he was saying though you caught a few phrases such as “—YOU’RE SUCH AN IDIOT—” and “—I’VE BEEN SCOURING THE STREETS FOR HOURS—”

Tooru struggled against Iwa’s grip but he wasn’t strong enough to rival his strength, he still tried though as he pleaded with Iwaizumi to let him go for a moment but it was all for naught.

When Iwa finally caved in to his best friend’s whining and pleading and let him go, he ran back up the street to the flower field to find the spot where you once were empty. The pile of books and papers, the telescope so carefully set up, and most importantly, you, had vanished in a matter of seconds.

Tooru furrowed his eyebrows together, staring at the empty field in dismay before Iwa ran back up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away.

“We have to go.”

“But—”

“No, Oikawa, we have to go now.”

“But I never got her name.”

taglist:  @sugarkou​ (hi dork, ily)

[shinsoups]

Student No. 22 —

m a s t e r l i s t

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader x class1a

genre: 1tbsp of crack, 1 tsp of fluff, a sprinkle of angst and 1 cup of chaotic randomness

synopsis: y/n was certain she would never be a Hero. She had a different goal in her mind, and that is to be a great doctor someday. With a terrible past she wants to forget, she vows she would never use her Quirk and will never let the world know what it is. Not until she finds out that the invincible quirk she thought she has can also have a certain weakness.

random updates

a/n: canon Shinsou is joining hero class for their second year but I'm gonna make him part of Class 1A already yay!

OO4.2 : Hero vs Villain —

At the back of your mind you know there's no escaping this. Your grandfather might have taken a few steps in taking care of you even before he left this world. He won't let you hand over the HPSC but why the Heroes? Why can't he just let you live the way you want to live your life? 

You pushed the doors open, letting yourself in while settling in the corners of your designated area as you waited for the second signal to commence the fight. Why must you conform to what the Hero society wants? Seeing the tiny blinking red dot, you stared at the little camera on the corner of the ceiling, watching your every move... I hate this you muttered to yourself while continuing to search for some items.

You rub your temples, trying to think of any way to end this fight without crushing someone else's dreams. Fifteen minutes, do you want to win this fight anyway? You clicked your tongue, scanning the room. Securing the pin just above your left chest, and gripping the capture tape on your track pants left pocket, your eyes found the one thing you were planning to use.

The screen shows two figures already clashing and were in a heated conversation. Bakugou was impatiently giving orders as Shinsou tries to talk him out and create a plan. But the blonde insisted that he'll fight with or without a plan, threatening that he won't back down even if Shinsou ever gets in the way. The other screen shows the new girl going inside a Hardware Store situated just near her assigned area. The second siren blasted, without a second thought Bakugou pushed Shinsou out of his way and went to search for the "enemy".

Midoriya was heavily muttering and was torn between watching the monitors and listening to the new voices that joined inside the waiting room.

Recovery Girl was seated in the middle, watching as Bakugou was desperately searching for you. The screen shows how Shinsou leisurely follows, gripping the binding cloth around his neck and sprinting as he tries to catch up to Bakugou. Midnight and Present Mic are now standing just behind the students of Class 1-A. Curious eyes were now stealing glances as more of their teachers are now watching the on-going match. 

The familiar loud voice of Present Mic echoed inside the room, "Shota-kun you found out about her Quirk already? That was fast!" Patting Aizawa's shoulder as his laughter dissolves into silence when Aizawa shot him a cold stare.

Jirou nudges Midoriya when she heard what they were talking about, "Apparently, her Quirk is unknown. Rather, they're not sure what it is so that's why the teachers are here to see for themselves." The group exchange looks as they stared back at the screens in front of them.

––––––––––––––––––

Just outside the building you can already hear explosions coming your way. The familiar tingling sensation of danger alerts your senses. Wrapping the small item that you needed with the capturing tape, you drag it near the entrance and exited the building.

Bakugou spotted you exiting a building. He smirked and landed meters away from you. Aiming his hands towards your small figure, a large fire explosion almost hit you if you didn’t dodge and acted fast enough. Looking for any sign that the purple haired boy was behind him, you sighed in relief when you didn’t saw him. You reminded yourself not to respond, not to make any verbal attempt so you can win the fight. You’ll just have to wrap them up or stole their pin without attacking, just play on defense mode. Defense mode, you repeated like a mantra.  

Bakugou was the first one to make a move leaping forwards using his explosive speed to thrust himself just meters away from you. With one swift movement, his leg was aiming right at your torso. Absorbing the shock of the fire explosion shot at you, you narrowly dodge as you shifted your weight towards your left side. Trying to land even just one blow from your fist, Bakugou was quick to block his jaw.

“Is that all you got, new girl? That doesn’t even stung a bit.” He growls kicking your body away from him. “Where’s the girl who attacked mercilessly earlier?”

You took on a defensive stance when you felt the sting on your arms after receiving the kick. Bakugou propelled himself once again. Dust were now clouding your vision and irritating your lungs as the burning embers from his Quirk lingers in the air. You turned around to where he landed, trying to close the distance between you and create just one impact on his body. Dodging your half assed right punch attack on his shoulders he caught your left that was aiming to land another on his face, his other hand directed on your legs.

You fell to the ground as his leg kicked you once more, “Bastard,” you grunted and rolled to avoid a well-aimed kick from him. Bakugou took the advantage and continuous AP shot auto canon were fired at you but it dissolves into nothingness as it hits your skin. You ran around him, trying to tire him out and lose his will in using his Quirk against you, but the sting in your lungs are now catching up.

“Come on, you little piece of shit,” he feinted a laugh almost reading your moves. He knew what you were thinking and he was now aware that his fire explosions meant nothing at all even if he fires the strongest attack.  

Using stealth was your best option but right now, its seems your body has taken a toll already. The ruined buildings around, shattered and was half destroyed as his canon explosions kept chasing you not far behind your shadows.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Bakugou decides to engage in physical combat instead of using his Quirk.

“Why can’t” he fires every time another word comes out of his mouth. “you – just – fight instead of playing on defense.” With the last word he caught your wrist once again and threw you up in the sky, “Zero distance stun grenade!” he shouts as you fly into air, taking the impact of his moves.

You can feel your body burning even though the fire never reaches your skin. You grunted as you felt another impact of his explosive hit your body. 

Shinsou caught up with what’s happening and hid himself behind one of the alleyways near the two of you. You were facing Bakugou head to head, as his purple eyes widen when he saw you mid-air. The damage Bakugou has created  a crater on the streets of Ground Beta as he once again uses his explosive speed to catch up with you mid-air. Shinsou was torn between saving you or pulling Bakugou with his Binding cloth. Choosing the first option, he casted the cloth towards and wrapped you around to cushion your fall. 

In a cat-like stance, Bakugou landed right on his feet and saw Shinsou on the corner of his eyes. You can feel every bit of your bones almost cracking from the impact of air and Kacchan’s fire explosions. Your nerves ran riot now feeling light headed. You braced your body for the impact as you calm yourself when you hit the ground. 

The moment you’ll hit the cold pavement you knew you’ll be immobilized and will lose this match, not until you felt something enveloped your body slowing down your fall. Seeing the end of the tape you were holding on to earlier, you used the momentum of your landing to think properly and act rationally. Still loosely wrapped with the cloth around your body, you crawled using the remaining strength you have, pulling the red item and aimed it Bakugou.

Shinsou ran towards you and Bakugou to act as a mediator. “What am I even doing?” he murmurs to himself as he felt the cinders of his partner’s explosive attacks dawdle in the air.

“Fight, you little piece of ---,” Bakugou growled but before he could finish what he was going to say, he noticed you pulling the red cylindrical item you were dragging earlier.

Everyone watching in the waiting room held on to their breaths as Bakugou was hit with the white foam of the item you were dragging before the fight has started. Midnight broke into laughter as she saw you struggle to let yourself loose on the cloth hugging your body and clinging to the little fire extinguisher that somehow doused Bakugou’s sweat glands immobilizing his fire explosives.

“She’s smart!” Present Mic boasted and clapped his hands once again on Aizawa’s shoulder. “Who would’ve thought she’ll actually use it! I thought she was going to hit him with it! But what she did was better!” The laughter soon died down as the new girl broke free from the cloth and Shinsou stood in the middle where Bakugou fired at his partner instead of the “villain”.

Shinsou knew what he was doing, that’s why he wanted to act accordingly to plan so as not to hurt you. If we both attack and use our Quirks coordinately then she won’t be able to focus at the same time we drive her into a corner and make her surrender. But Bakugou has different plans and was never willing to listen, so this would do. That was what Shinsou told himself as he pulled back the Binding cloth back around his neck and executed his plan. He noticed the missing pin on his partner’s shoulder so before the teachers could even find out about it he needs to execute his plan properly.  

Stepping just between the blonde and you, “Bakugou you shouldn’t have done that. She’s still new to this you know–”

The blonde took a step forward, pointing his hand towards you after wiping off the remains of the fire extinguisher’s foamy substance.

“Shut up you piece of—”

Don’t move, Bakugou. Instead fire at me. Shinsou squinted his eyes. Do it.

Shit! Bakugou cursed at himself when he realized that he responded to Shinsou. Doing what he was told, his hand moved on its own accord and threw his AP Machine gun technique towards the cunning purple head.

What the heck? You dropped the extinguisher you were holding and before you knew it you were shielding your enemy away from his partner. Shinsou felt the fire grazing his shoulder moments before he saw you wrapped your arms on his head. I knew it! Holding the tape roll, he tries to undo it and roll it around your body.

Your body acted on its own, not sure whether you were on time but smelling a familiar burnt smell your heart plunged deeper as you saw his right arm and shoulder bleeding and burnt. Without any sense of danger, you quickly pressed his injuries, making Shinsou fliched in pain and dropping the tape he was holding. His detachable mask and half of the binding cloth was burned along with his right shoulder fell on the ground.

Hissing from the sudden contact of your hand to his shoulder, you pulled Shinsou away and quickly dragged him inside one of the buildings even before Bakugou could attack again. Not even noticing what Shinsou was about to do to you. He was left too stunned, forgetting to even release Bakugou from his brainwashing. Not until they were safe inside and away from the death glares Bakugou was throwing at him did he realized what you were doing.

You both hear the speakers announcing Bakugou’s defeat, as you clutched the red pin on your pocket. “Took them long enough to notice,” you sighed as you pressed Shinsou’s shoulder once more to stop him from doing any funny business. Muttering a silent apology to him.

“Don’t move, don’t try anything funny.” you glared at him. Pulling Shinsou to sit down in front of you, he obliged to do your bidding and hissed once more when his shoulder hit the remaining cloth sticking to the burned area. Memories from your childhood somehow floods your mind as you keep smelling the burnt skin on his shoulder. You knew how painful it was. Should you heal him? Yet you don’t want to feel the pain. Shinsou gritted his teeth while pulling the burnt cloth away, hissing once more.

“Stop! You’re doing it all wrong!” With trembling hands, you pushed his hands away.  Pressing your palms together and rubbing it once you placed both of it on his shoulders. “Don’t even think about it.” You said as you quickly pulled his button pin away from his chest, tucking it away on your pocket.

“You were reckless. You could’ve died if Kacchan’s fire attacks were to fully hit your body. Are you stupid? Are all Heroes like this? Why are they making us fight? Isn’t it supposed to be just an exercise? Why did you even do that? Why?”

You were mumbling something about hating this stupid Hero system as Shinsou tries to absorb every word you were saying. He has a lot in his mind, formulating proper words to retort to your scolding but the way you flinched in pain when his shoulder was almost healed made him realized what you were doing. His eyes noticed the shallow rise and fall of your chests, how your breath steadies, panting now as if you were the one experiencing his pain. No way!

His left hand grabbed your hands, pushing you down and trapping you between him and the cold floor. “Stop. What are you doing?”

You bit your lip. You turned your head sideways avoiding his gaze. Should you reply? You feel the sting on your shoulder, a side effect of your cursed healing abilities.

Feeling the regret and bile rise up from his stomach to his throat, Shinsou’s dark hooded eyes stare at your sorry state, “Why do you think people are blessed with Quirks like us? Are you scared people will resent you for being born with a gift that can help a lot of people? Or are you just scared of yourself?” A weak whisper slips out of his mouth, demanding an answer. His purple eyes searched for yours. But before he could pry one answer from your quivering lips, the speakers on the wall distracted the both of you.

“Shinsou loses the fight. y/n wins the match. The three of you please exit the training grounds and proceed to Recovery Girl’s clinic if needed medical assistance.” Aizawa’s familiar tired voice echoed.

Everyone in the waiting room stood awe in silence, witnessing how the battle suddenly ended when the screen flashes the three students’ current state. Their top one, stuck outside the streets unmoving. Shinsou’s torn clothes now hanging barely on his chest while pining the new girl on the floor.

“I guess this is why Nezu wanted her in this school.” Midnight walked away after Shouta announces the winner in the first group. “I don’t have any complaints anymore. The next time Class 1-A does their battle training, let me watch her again. She needs more training.” With that said she exited the room.

“Midoriya, Kaminari and Todoroki proceed to the training ground now.” His deadpan voice drawl out, calling the next group. Aizawa sighed, clutching the file he was holding while watching the monitors. 

“Training…she needs to know more than that.” Scanning the notes he wrote, the little details he noticed from the fight he was sure you needed proper guidance and that is top priority to lead you and not leave you astray.

taglist: @sugarandsoft @roesaurus @moonlightbae14 @therealwalmartjesus @redperson58 @i-bitch-you-bitch @allie-munoz (👈🏻 i cant tag u? it seems u changed url is this u? @nopenotallie ?)

🍥general taglist: @b0ku4ka @chibishae34 @skusamiya

i got a taglist im soft ~ want to join? just leave a comment my dudes ✨

a/n: gods i suck at writing fight scenes! glad the first 4 chapters are done huhu let the fluff and chaos interaction begin!!

likes, comments and reblogs is highly appreciated 🐣this is my first time writing bnha so tips and comments are really helpful ! ✨

[loverabbitss]

Bury Me In Bliss (Prt 1)

Y/N P.O.V.

I grew more and more upset with hearing my husband rant about how the resort we were staying at didn't have shrimp cocktails. Mind you we were on our honeymoon so all I wanted to do was relax and enjoy ourselves. But all that I have experienced has been him doing work as if he isn't on vacation and him complaining. It had me wondering if I had made the wrong decision, but I loved him dearly.

"I'm going to the pool to relax babe." I announce to him as I gather my things into my bag.

"mmhm yeah baby enjoy" he responds without even looking up from his laptop.

I glance at him after I've finished making my bag. He didn't even flinch to try to come with me; I roll my eyes. Work seems more important to him then our relationship, whatever, I just needed to get away from this atmosphere.

Walking out of the hotel suite we shared I feel the breeze of the nearby ocean hit me as I decide to take the stairs today. It gave me time to really experience life and indulge myself in it. Once I make it downstairs passing by the front desk the clerk greets me telling me to have a nice day. I smile thanking her as I set out to the pool.

As I start walking I find that I can't find my way to the pool even though I was following signs. I make a turn going into a secluded walk way covered by walls of wild flowers on each side. I stop pulling out a pamphlet I packed in my bag before I left our room. From where my location was it seems I wasn't far from the resort's pool. Without realizing it I was unconsciously walking and reading. However, soon I bumped into something or someone.

"Omg I'm so sorry" I quickly try to apologize glancing up.

"Are you lost babygirl?" She says.

Oh I was lost alright. I was lost for words, sentences, even a simple smile to be polite couldn't be conjured up. She looked like someone out of a movie, someone you wouldn't normally see in real life. Her jet black shiny hair flown down her back as beautiful tattoos dawned her arms. She wore a white bottom skirt and a black bikini top that her big breasts toppled over in. I had to snap myself out of my thoughts before I looked more weird just mesmerizing her.

"N-no I'm good thank you" I respond looking to the ground to avoid those strong brown eyes that seems to swallow me whole.

I look back to see if anyone is behind me because this walk way was pretty small and seemed to be an area that people would come through or at least for my bikini bottom's I hope so. Turning back around I prepare to scurry off to my destination, but when I look she is no where to be found. It was as if she was never there, more of a figment of my imagination. I chuckle softly to myself before continuing on my way.

Once I make it to the pool I smile at seeing families playing having fun doing, couples enjoying one another, and then there's me. I was all alone on a honeymoon that was supposed to be spent with my workaholic husband. Laying down one of the lounge chairs I find the prefect shaded areas. After prepping my areas I lean back with my glasses on reading. Lover's Delight, was the perfect book, two lovers from totally different background find love between a rock and a hard place. Oh and it surely helped that the intimate scenes were very detailed.

I got lost in the book and didn't realize it was time for the pool to close. How didn't I hear the sound of splashing and laughter diminish. Looking around there was only about two crew members cleaning one of which had yell out to me about them closing soon. I get up packing up sighing, it had turned dark outside so the resort had tikis lite around almost every area.

The sound of the waves from the ocean front that wasn't too far was so soothing. I was in paradise and yet my mind still wondered to that beautiful women whose accent sent chills down my spine. I shouldn't have such a reaction towards her, when I've never met or seen her a day in my life. My daydream was broken by a shuffling sound that raised the hairs on my skin and gave me goosebumps. I was by myself, stupid Y/N.

I started to speed walk as the sound got louder. Once I turned a corner there stood two big buff dudes that looked like security guards and a shorter dude in the middle. He was covered in a nice designer silk shirt with black slacks on with a tooth pick leaning out mouth. He reeked of coach cologne, which I only knew because that's what I bought my husband for his present, My husband! My mind switched thinking what he must've been thinking where I was especially by this time.

"Your going to need to come with us ma'am" his rasp thick voice cut my ears.

I clear my throat fear seeping into my bones.

"No, I have to get back to my husband. So if you will excuse me" I say as I try to walk around them, but then am blocked.

"I wouldn't refuse if I were you. See we've talked to your husband already he doesn't mind one bit for you to come speak to my niece." He responds walking closer to me.

"Your niece? Why would I want to speak to her?" I ask backing away slowly.

"Well it's not so much you wanna speak to her as she really wants to speak to you. Which I can see why" He responds reaching his hand out to me.

I look down at it, it seemed to be my only ticket out of this seeing as my prick of a husband allowed for this to happen. A divorce was so going to be in the works for sure. It all happened so fast, accepting his offer they whisked me away someplace unknown. But oh boy was it beautiful, light shined bright on the outside making the golden beige walls show. Gorgeous bright flowers spread across the land, which could have been easily an acre or two. We pull up to the brick covered curved drive way, one of the buff guards helped me out.

"Welcome home" The persistent uncle laid his hand out to the house.

I raise my eyebrow shaking my head.

"I have a home already and this isn't it" I slightly bark at him.

The smug look on his face spoke volumes about how he didn't like my remark. I could tell my defiance against wanting to come was eating at him by the shift in his demeanor. Instead of responding he just walks away and the buff securities give me a light push to follow.

Soon a man with more guards comes rushing towards him. Geez are they all buff here. This man looked totally different from the uncle. His skin wasn't covered in tattoos and compared to the uncle's olive complexion he was much paler almost as if the sun completely forgot about him. Clear glasses sat upon his button nose and he looked flushed or anxious to speak to the uncle.

"Sir D'Angelo, your niece has been waiting your arrival. She's been getting very upset since you left." He says as he walks along side the uncle or Sir D'Angelo I should say.

He sighs heavily.

"I apologize, I had trouble getting whomever this is to her to come along." He scoffs.

"Nothing, I'm nothing to her." I call out rolling my eyes.

It was bad enough I had to be here despite my stupid husband agreeing to this whole ordeal, but then I had to here this guy's mouth? Yeah no.

The two men started to drift off into a conversation about what seemed to be family matters. From what I picked up by listening is that this niece of his was the next in charge since her father has passed and apparently she is quite the talk of a lot of people. Apparently not though because I've never heard of her.

We arrive at the front door and the securities make quick work of opening the doors for the three of us. If the outside wasn't impressive then the inside stole the show. Antiques, expensive cloths, and delicate furniture surrounded the parts of the house that I saw.

"Ahh my guest has arrived" I hear a thick familiar accent, it can't be.

There's no way it was her, she was just a figment of my imagination. The way she disappear earlier was too fast for even me. I turn towards the direction of her voice and there she was, she was real. Clad in a black and gold silk button up that had two buttons loose to showcase her chest with white pants that made the shirt the main event she stood tall. She easily hovered over me and as she walked up a smirk covered her face.

"Hey there babygirl" she spoke again.

There goes that word again, that word that sent chills down my spine. Her coming closer to me took me out of my gawking stare with her. She smelt of a Acqua di Gioia.

"Hello" I respond shyly focusing my eyes on something else anything really that wasn't her.

"Thank you for bringing her uncle. I begin to worry you had gotten lost old man" she smiles joking.

He lets out a big chuckle, and for the first time since I met him he smiled.

"You picked a tough one Gaia, good luck my love. I'll see you in the morning." He waves his good bye going to the other side of the house with a cigar now burning in his mouth.

"Picked? Picked me for what?" I asked now snapping my eyes to her.

"You need not worry about that, come let me show you to where you will be staying" she responds grabbing my waist walking me towards a dim lit hallway.

Wine colored drapes covered the walls as family pictures were posted on them. I was so taken back by this whole place that the fact that all these people were strangers and I was staying in a house with them hadn't crossed my mind yet. Being in her embrace as she walked me to what I assumed was going to be my room chilled me. Her grip on my waist enticed something in me, something that made me wet.

"Here's were you will be staying" she said as she opened a big brown door.

Inside was a bed covered in black cotton sheets, tile that had designs all on them, a big window that led to a balcony with a view of the ocean, and dressers & night stands. It was beautiful, but it seemed like someone already stayed in the room even as it was made up.

"I'm not sleeping anywhere until I'm told why I'm here" I persisted turning around towards her.

Her smile turned into a frown and right there I wanted to kiss her, no you don't your married remember? Oh yeah

"I don't want you to have to worry your pretty self about that. I'll tell you everything in the morning I promise." She walks over to me bringing me into her by my waist.

"Whatever, fine" it was the only short thing I could think of to avoid stuttering my life away.

"You can wash up in there. There's already clothes set aside in there for you." She resumes.

Yeah not creepy at all.

I place my things down in a nearby chair, then goes into the bathroom. The all white bathroom was a completely different look than what I had seen of the house so far. The shower completely covered the wall and the doors were glass meaning anyone could see through them, the tub was in another corner and was big enough for at least four people. The counter had two sinks and a full wall length mirror.

"This whole house is big" I say to myself.

I start the bathtub because there was no way in hell I was taking the chance of someone walking in on me while I was in the shower. I was confident in my body but not that confident. Once the tub was filled I stripped getting in the warm water enveloped me hugging every particle of my body.

As relaxing as the bath was I had to leave it. I got out drying off, draining the tub, and changing into the pajamas that were set for me. They were light blue panties with a button up top and shorts. Once I finished I walked out to find Gaia in the bed reading dressed in a similar pajama set like mine, but it was black and the bottoms were long. I noticed a slight bump towards the top but ignored it thinking it was an bubble from the pajamas being too big.

"Uh are you in here to tell me goodnight?" I asked slowly walking over to the bed.

"No, this is our bed, our room, our bathroom" she responds patting the spot next to her.

"Our? I'm married. The only ours I know is with my husband" I say standing by the ottoman at the end of the bed.

"Yes yes, the workaholic husband who is too busy all the time to attend to your needs. Tell me Y/N when was the last time that you busted?" A coy look crossed her face and her hazel eyes buried into my brown ones.

I could feel the tension in the room build and the wave in my stomach starting to flow. I twisted my head side ways slightly in a questioning matter.

"First off, how do you know my name? Secondly, why does it matter when's the last time I busted? It's none of your business" I responded.

Her lips curl into a smirk and she raises her eyebrows.

"Oh I know everything about you my darling. But what I don't know is how you seem satisfied with someone who barely pays you any mind. Someone who flew you cross countries just to stare at him laptop all day and he on work conferences." She says coming closer across the bed to me.

I unconsciously move backwards.

"He is a busy man, he is the boss he has to know everything. I get my needs the way I have to." My breathe hitches when she comes chest to chest with me with my back against the wall.

Her soft hand comes up to my chin lifting my head up towards her. Yeah she easily towered over me.

"How's that?" She husked out.

I was speechless. Her eyes were scanning every bit of my face searching for a response and when my mouth was agape she chuckled slightly.

"See babygirl I can treat you so much better I can learn how your body reacts to my touch" she leans into my ear and her breathe makes goosebumps cover my skin.

Her hands roam my body making me twitch some. She shouldn't have this effect on me especially because I'm married to my husband no matter how inconsiderate and stupid he can be sometimes. Breaking me out of my thought was the feeling of her hand caressing my thigh.

"No no, this is wrong. I'm married I love him dearly and I shouldn't be doing this." I push her back slightly, which didn't work because she was stronger than me.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself of that?" She looks down at me moving back some.

"I don't have to convince myself of something I know. Now if you excuse me I have to get back to my hotel." I refused to stay and get tempted by this oh so beautiful woman who at the moment I was ready to risk it all for.

Before I could reach to grab my bag she grabbed my arm spinning me back around into her. Her arms entrapped me in her embrace against her. Even after showering she smelled amazing like a rose garden.

"Your not going anywhere especially this dark and this far from your resort. Just stay and I'll show you what I have to offer." She said with a slight dominance sticking to her voice.

"Fine, but I'm leaving first thing in the morning" I respond wiggling out of her grip and over to I guess my side of the bed.

"Yeah we will se about that" she says going to her side.

We both get in, me scooted all the way to the edge of my side and her closer to the middle. She huffs seeing me turned away from her but besides to leave it be as it was so late.

*next morning*

The morning soon comes and when I wake up. I hear gurgles and moans, there's no way she is having sex in this room while I'm in it. I turn to see the bed empty and at the end of it the sight is shocking yet such a turn on. She was getting sucked off by some maid she must've had.

Her small grunts could be heard, but me shuffling in the bed made her look up towards me and put on a show. She started face fucking the girl who was enjoying being used as a example I guess.

"This could be you. I'd be much more gentle though and I have a feeling you'd enjoy this." She says picking up her pace fucking the girl's throat deeper.

I look at her raising my eyebrows to not give away the fact that she was right. I'd love for it to be me.

"You think using her as an example is going to turn me on or make me change my mind? I'm still going back to the resort, so you might as well save it." I reply getting out of the bed heading to the bathroom.

I freshen up brushing my teeth, which was really awkward considering she was face fucking some girl not to far from me and eventually came. I finished up washing my face, taking a towel I pat dried my face off. As I opened my eyes through the mirror she was looking at me with pure hunger in her eyes as she pulls up her pajama pants.

So that's what that bump was. A rod big enough to end someone up in the hospital, bigger than my husband I could tell you that. I blushed lightly covering it up with a clearance of my throat before walking out the bathroom going to grab my bag. She watches me this time and doesn't try to stop me. It was a bit disheartening because it was the opposite of what I wanted her to do.

I walk out trying to figure out where to go and stubble upon the dining area. A big wooden table was packed with breakfast; fruits, pancakes, biscuits, French toast, bacon, sausage, preservatives & jellies, coffee, juice, and tea. My mouth water and my stomach growled.

"I planned for us to eat something before we started our day. Though I expected it to begin much differently." Her addicting voice carried through the dining area.

I twitched a bit at the wetness building in my bottoms.

"No thank you. I just wanna get back to my hotel." I respond not sparing her glance.

"I would if I could darling" Gaia says.

"What do you mean? Just have the same security take me back, simple." I scrunch my face turning towards her.

"If you sit I'll explain, please Y/N. I'll feel much better when you eat." She nearly pleads.

I reluctantly sigh walking over and making a small quick plate with a cup of coffee.

"Now elaborate please." I say before popping a pineapple in my mouth.

She makes herself a hearty plate then of all the chairs at the table she sits next to me. Ironic. She leans back in the chair looking at me as if she was memorizing the way I looked.

"My family company has worked with your husband's company for years now. About a few months ago we flew in to have a meeting to introduce myself as the new head. I just so happen to see a lovely woman all hugged up on him before we all sat in the meeting room. Besides that we commenced the meeting and discovered how much work between the partnership needed to be done. So—" she stops mid story her eyes glued to my lips.

I look up at her waiting for her to finish her story.

"You've got something" Using a napkin she wipes my lip gently removing some dripping liquid from the fruits.

She clears her throat.

"Anyways, we started working on the partnership and the more we worked the more I found out about his beyond beautiful wife. I just knew I had to have you and when I found discrepancies in our partnership on his in I agreed to tarnish them if he made an agreement with me." She further explains.

"To spend time with me?" I question furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

"Of course and he hesitantly agreed saying he was grateful I didn't leave the partnership." She finished then dug into her food.

I however had lost my appetite and leant back in the chair. I couldn't believe that my husband agreed to have me damn near kidnapped just to spend time with someone who I have never met in my life. My mind was swimming, I couldn't process half of the information she had just given me.

"Umm excuse me for a second" I pushed myself away from the table, this time she didn't try to stop me.

I walked back to the same room I just came from walking over to the big window opening it a bit to get some fresh air. How was I supposed to take this? How was I supposed to approach my husband after this? I needed to talk with him.

I briskly walk back to the dining area. The table had been cleared off and she still sat drinking a cup of coffee. I went over to my bag searching for my phone. Once I find it, I see that I only have 5% battery, great. No missed calls from him, not even any messages. He already knew. I felt tears fill up in my eyes as I sit down defeated, what was the point of me trying to leave?

She sunk to her knees in front of me placing her hands on my thighs.

"Hey beautiful, your to pretty to be crying" she cooed wiping my tears.

I was to distorted to try to fight back or move away. There was no point anymore.

"How long?" I ask sniffling.

"How long for what?" She tilts her head like a confused puppy.

"A week give or take. Maybe forever if you let me in and let me be what he could never be" Her eyes shine bright in the sunlight that shone through the dining area window.

"You expect me let you in after a week? Especially after you just revealing all that to me." I scoff looking off in the view.

She shakes her head.

"No, I would want you to but I know it will be difficult to" Her thick Italian accent rasps through.

"Come on I want to show you something." She stands up holding out her hand.

I hesitantly take it. She walks me to an area of the house I had not seen. It was a very dull lit area, it had a very intricate library, a wooden desk and a nice rolling chair.

"It's not much but it's where I come when I can't think. When I need to get away from all this family business bullshit." She states as she runs her hands across her desk.

"You didn't choose it did you?" I ask inquisitively.

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: March 2021

Hey March was a weird month what with all the pandemic anniversaries and such but here we are. It’s March. Goodbye March.

……….FILM……….

Attack the Block (2011) After about 20 minutes my partner asked if this was basically a British episode of Goosebumps and....she’s not wrong? I liked it back when it came out but it’s aged really well. Tight script and casual class politics along with the very good space stuff.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) It turns out I’d remembered so little of this movie that it was essentially a fresh viewing. The artistry and ambition still holds up today plus a noir set in L.A. is always good time. But then you add cartoon hijinks and it’s all just that much better.

The New York Times Presents: Framing Britney Spears  (2021) So we watched the ep on Britney Spears and...it didn’t really seem to cover all that much. It kept feeling like it was about to start and then after an hour and a half of that it just sorta wraps with a small legal victory. I know this isn’t fiction so I’m not expecting a happy ending, but I don’t know what it wanted to say.

CBS presents Oprah with Meghan and Harry  (2021) I mean I don’t think anything said or shared was surprising anyone. Though I appreciate Oprah not letting either of them sidestep a question. Either answer or say you won’t; none of this fancy poetry.

……….TELEVISION……….

Great British Bake Off (Episode 9.01 to 9.04) This is our first season without Mary Berry, Sue, and Mel and it’s a real shift! But despite all the new faces, it still feels very much like the good-natured GBBO I’ve come to love. Great stuff.

City of Ghosts (Episode 1.01 to 1.06) I hope all that I’m seeing about this means that Netflix will greenlight another season and more television like this. The artistry is fantastic, the concept allows for both whimsy and poignancy, and it’s casually funny in a way that I can’t fully describe. Great stuff.

WandaVision (Episode 1.09) So this didn’t quite stick the landing for me. I figured there’d be some blasts and magic and zooming around in the sky, but I also assumed we’d get some resolution (maybe even consequences) for what Wanda did to the town. Sure, she’s not the villain and it wasn’t intentional, but the show appeared to be built around this theme of denial and acceptance yet abandoned that in the end. But I will give it this: it really has sold me on the relationship between Wanda and Vision.

The Night Manager (Episode 1.05 to 1.06) You know I think I’ve been so primed by Bond films and action set pieces that, while I won’t spoil the ending, I was pleasantly surprised by how it wrapped up. It was a nice change of pace. 

The Bachelor (Episode 25.09 to 25.12) What a season. It was a mess, sure, but I also think it was the uncomfortable mix of stagnation and progress. The show needs to evolve and I feel like the finale and aftershow really highlighted that the change has to happen. Maybe it’s starting to happen already or in future seasons it’ll change whether production likes it or not.

……….READING……….

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (Complete) Really fantastic read and such an effortless blend of science fiction and...necromantic fantasy! Dark and gross and light and funny all at the same time. 100% recommend and am very excited for the next entry despite this feeling whole and complete on its own.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) I want to work my way through the series (or at least the original 14 written by Baum) so we gotta start at the beginning! There’s such a light air about the book that everyone kinda just rolls with everything. Sentient objects and talking animals and lots of murder are just met with a “Great! on to the next adventure!” and I love it.

The Marvelous Land of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) It’s really great that the second book has a lot of the same core components (human child meets a bunch of wacky sidekicks while on a very small adventure) yet casually expands the mythos and world. It even builds on the plot established by the first book (the main conflict revolving around Scarecrow being overthrown as leader of Oz ever since the Wizard disappeared). Great stuff.

Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) Bringing back Dorothy and it’s really a merging of characters from book 1 and 2. If anything, this series is shaping up to be about making friends and the genial conflict resolution is really heartwarming. Now i’m keen to watch Return to Oz.

Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz by L. Frank Baum (Complete) This might just be me but I find a mostly human cast (outside of Jim the Cab Horse) to be far less interesting than the diverse adventuring parties of the first three books. Lots of fun stuff in here and playing fast and loose with the world-building works well; highlight the fun parts of a land made of wood and then continue on to the next location! Great stuff.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 9 by Ryoko Kui (Complete) It feels like everything is starting to come together and wrap up and I’m totally here for a story that knows what it wants to do. And while there doesn’t seem to be as much room cooking with the overarching plot that is driving the story, it never feels like it’s moved away from the heart of the characters and for that I can’t recommend it enough. Excellent world-building, excellent cast, and really great humor.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The IDW Collection Volume 9 by Kevin Eastman, Tom Waltz, Mateus Santolouco, Dave Wachter, Pablo Tunica, Sophie Campbell, and many more! (Complete) The human/secret agent stuff will always be boring to me (even if they’re hunting the turtles) cause that’s not what I want in a comic. I don’t want Batman hunting burglars, I want bright colourful villains for our bright and colorful heroes. Luckily we get into a pocket dimension for a toad god and his relatives during the second half of the volume. Overall, still my favourite ooze series.

……….AUDIO……….

Musicalsplaining (Podcast) Great host dynamics and hot dang I love a good musical.

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) The group has taken a break from the infected giant colony to sort out some Pirate drama! Further session breakdowns are over here on Reddit!

Dungeons & Designers (Podcast) I had the rare chance to play in a D&D campaign instead of run it and it’s even up online! They also air the sessions through their podcast!

And that’s it! As always, let me know anything you think I should check out and thanks for reading.

Happy Wednesday.