#and being in a store is humanizing because that act presumes you have normal wants and needs

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I had my toxic little outfit on with my black cape and chunky rings and my ship pendant (to reference the Demeter), and bloody lipstick; and I had the scripture of “I am the resurrection and the life…” pulled up as a reference to Dracula AD 1972, and I look vaguely like Christopher Lee if I do the right facial expressions and posturing (except I’m not very tall lmao)…

Did I get to use any of this to scare householders? No! Couldn’t see my face because we need to wear masks indoors. Couldn’t dramatically read the scripture because you don’t do that in business territory. Fucking hell.

[silky-stories]

Hi!! Maybe headcanons or some kind of literature with either vampire garcello x reader or mermaid garcello x reader?? You could do both or one or the other. You're the one writing it after all. Thanks!

Oh. Ohohohohohohoho, now we’re talking >:)

Anon I am going to let you in on a little secret, so anyone who isn’t anon look away >:(

...okay now that it’s just you and me, one of your suggestions kind of predicted a oneshot I’ve been working on that I’m going to be posting soon. So because of that I’ll be going with the other option. Hope you enjoy ;3

———————————————————————

Parched. {Vampire Garcello/Reader}

Genre: Suggestive

Words: 2027

Related Song: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know { slowed + reverb}

Summary: When your boyfriend gets home from a long day, it’s only polite to fix him a drink, don’t you think?

Disclaimer/s: Steamy content, swearing, blood

Notes: Garcello speaks in red this time, Reader speaks in blue ;) [Also, monster character x reader or character x monster reader is my absolute jam, feel free to send in requests like this more often-]

———————————————————————

Your boyfriend was, to put it lightly, a little bit on the odd side.

He work dark clothes on hot days, didn’t like the sun very much, had an uncanny sense of smell and hearing, and liked his meat pretty rare. To the outside world he was a weird shut-in that was probably goth, but you knew a hell of a lot more than that.

The two of you had met late at night in a rougher part of the city. You were on your way home from picking up a few essentials at the nearby 24-hour convenience store when you heard some rustling coming from an alleyway. Then some banging. Then some yelling. Then silence.

Well that was ominous as hell.

...

Time to investigate.

You made your way down the dreary alley, groceries in hand, preparing yourself to see a murder scene or something of the like and...

...you honestly weren’t that far off.

You found yourself watching as a man pinned a guy to a wall, his head lowered to his neck. At first you felt yourself getting embarrassed, figuring that you had walked over and unintentionally interrupted a passionate moment. You quickly realized that wasn’t the case when you watched the guy go limp in the arms of the larger man.

After a few moments of you being the quietest you’ve ever been in your life, standing and staring in shock, not knowing what would even be the right course of action for a situation like this, he pulled away. The guy that had previously gone limp slowly slid down the brick wall, deep red trickling down his neck and pooling in the crook of his shoulder. The aqua-haired man let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his gloved hands, still unaware of your presence.

Your mind was blank when you spoke up, it had to be for you to do something so bold yet stupid.

“Is he dead?”

The man flinched, hard, and whipped around to lock eyes with you. You were met with two bright red dots staring back at you, stunned, you began to unintentionally study his face.

The dark crimson that you had seen on the possibly-dead man’s neck was also identifiable as a smear on this guy’s face, starting at his lips and trailing off along his cheek where he had tried to wipe it off. His lips were slightly agape, revealing a set of sizeable fangs, as well as other teeth that seemed sharper than a regular human’s teeth should be. Looking down further you noticed that his gloves were fingerless, presumably to allow the sharp claws of nails that he had to stick out.

Other than all of that though he looked like a pretty normal guy. A pretty normal guy with very pale skin, but normal nonetheless.

“I... huh..?”

You were so busy taking in his clearly inhuman appearance that you actually forgot what you had initially asked for a moment, but restated your question when it came back to you.

I mean, what was there to lose at this point? It’s not like running seemed like a very smart option.

“Him. Is... is he dead?”

You pointed at the man that was currently almost falling over in his slump to emphasize your point. The man in front of you took a double take between you and what may have been a dead body before responding, clearly taking in the absurdity of the situation, similar to you.

“He’s... no he’s... passed out I...”

He paused, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was even happening. You took the moment to look at the body a little more critically and, surprise surprise, noticed that he was actually breathing.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take much so he’s just...”

Didn’t take much?

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Suddenly the whole ordeal just clicked in your brain as you finally understood what it was that you were looking at.

“You’re a vampire!”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, shocked and questioning, almost accusatory as your eyes went wide.

He didn’t seem to like that though. His brows pulling together tightly in sudden concern as he frantically looked around for any other possible witnessess. When he reinitiated eye contact he appeared quite a bit more panicked than before, more like someone that had been caught doing something arguably wrong. He looked threatening for the first time throughout the encounter.

“You... what do you plan on doing..?”

Plan on doing? Like what you were going to do after this? Knowing that vampires did in fact exist and at least one lived in your city?

“Do you... ever kill them?”

He shook his head warily.

“Then... I don’t... think I care?”

He was surprised to hear that, to be fair though, so were you. You figured you would care more about catching a literal vampire in the act but... he wasn’t killing anyone so was it really any of your business?

“You... you don’t care that I just drink some of his blood???”

“I guess not?”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief at your own statement, any ounce of a threatening or intimidating expression had left his face.

“He’s not gonna, like... turn into a vampire or die of disease or something later, right?”

“No that’s uh, not how it works...”

“Then just like... I don’t know, make sure he gets cleaned up and home safe and this stays between us I guess.”

He let you know that that’s what he did on a regular basis and after a few more awkward moments you were on your way.

That definitely wasn’t your last interaction though.

He didn’t trust you to keep your word, you honestly couldn’t really blame him, and you ended up catching glimpses of him watching you from alleyways or tops of buildings at night. It was kind of worrying at first but eventually it got to the point that you would just smile and wave if you saw him.

Eventually he would wave back.

Sometime down the road and you learned his name. Months later and you found an odd friendship forming, starting with you asking him to come in on a particularly rainy night.

Even later and you found yourself developing feelings, getting to know who he really was. His personality, his struggles, his fears. He really wasn’t a bad guy, he just had no other choice since regular food did nothing for him.

After half a year of your strange friendship you found yourselves together, he had happily moved into your apartment and you had started to acquire blood bags for him to use instead of people. That didn’t stop him from drinking straight from the source every now and then... although, the source he used had definitely changed.

“I’m home.”

You leaned out of the kitchen to smile at Garcello, he returned it with a warm grin, shucking off his coat and tossing it to the side to land on your shared couch.

“Welcome back! How was your day?”

You greeted him with open arms as soon as he meandered into the kitchen, he swiftly took up your non-verbal offer and swept you into his strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled, sighing deeply through his nose as he melted into the embrace.

“It went fine, certainly not my job of choice but I think the interview went alright.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and nuzzled your head against his, pleased to have him back in your arms after half a day without him.

“I made sure to get bread and milk like you asked.”

You chuckled as you spotted the brown paper bag he had set on the counter.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold you like that, peppering your cheek and jawline with a few kisses as he told you more about his day. Although, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude somewhere along the way. He suddenly went from sweet and giddy to much quieter, giving shorter answers when you asked him a question as he let you lead the conversation.

You decided to bring it up, just in case there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You just... you went kinda quiet so I just wanted to make sure.”

He was perfectly silent as he thought over his answer.

“Yes, but... are you... working on anything right now?”

His tone was anticipatory, eagerly awaiting your response. You found yourself suspicious of his intentions.

“Well, no, I was just putting away some dishes that I was washiNG-!”

You were caught off guard by his tongue dragging across your neck in a smooth motion, tightly taking hold of the back of his t-shirt as he did so. You felt him smirk against your neck afterwards.

“That’s good... you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

“Y...y-yeah...?”

“Yeah...”

You flinched as he brushed one of his fangs against the top of your shoulder.

“The thing is, I’ve had a bit of a... craving today.”

One of his claw-like nails came up to trace along your sternum...

“It’s been just... driving me mad.”

Your collarbone...

“Itching the back of my brain...”

Your sternocleidomastoid muscle...

“Funny, right?”

Stopping and hovering just above one of your carotid arteries.

“Yeah... f... funny...”

His smirk grew in response to your reactions, nuzzling your neck affectionately with a huff.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is...”

He tilted his head up to whisper in your ear.

“...would you mind if I had a little taste?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into him, not even having to speak for him to know what your answer was. He had waited for that cue though, just like usual he would never drink from you unless he was certain that you were fine with it. Even then, you both had a very clear safe word that you had used in the past if anything went wrong or you changed your mind.

You didn’t really have to worry about that though. You knew you were safe in his hands.

He purred in response to your willingness, slowly walking you back and gently pinning you to the wall.

“God you smell good right now...”

He lowered his head back down to your neck, finding the spot that he had traced up to and licking a small stripe along it, pinpointing the location of your pulse.

“...bet you’d... taste even better though...”

He was gentle as always when he bit down, it only felt like a pinch until the aphrodisiac kicked in, immediately erasing any sense of pain you had. Being guided by one of his hands that had tangled itself in your hair, your head lolled to the side as he drank from you. A gentle moan erupted from your lips as your grip on his shirt went slack, your arms falling limp beside you as bliss took hold of your thoughts.

“F... fuck...”

He purred louder as you gave clear indication of your enjoyment. The hand that he had propping himself up against the wall fell and came to rest on your hip, gripping tightly as the hand he had on the back of your head made soft contact with the wall instead.

He cut himself off a little bit sooner than usual, pulling away just enough for you to watch him lick his lips and fangs clean.

He chuckled as the hand that raked through your hair slid down to cup your cheek.

“...I was right, you taste amazing...”

His expression didn’t lose it’s smugness though, usually when he was done he would take a much softer turn and patch you up immediately.

“Although, I think I might have put a little too much aphrodisiac in your system sweetheart...”

He was right, you felt like a rag doll right now, nearly putty in his hands as the only thing keeping you standing at the moment was his grip on your torso. Your eyes had glazed over slightly and you were practically panting at this point.

“...let’s do something about that, hmm~?”

[ritsushinbro]

My Critique of Rebuild of Evangelion's Characterization: I originally wrote this post on the Evageeks forum and decided to post it here. It discusses the relationship between Misato, WILLE and the pilots and whether it is realistic and in-character. Warning this post contains spoilers and is very long. Also has references to self-harm and suicide.

With each revelation that comes out regarding the measures WILLE take against Shinji and their own pilots, it becomes more and more unrealistic for me to the point where it's almost comical. Let's go through some of them here:

They wear the explosive DSS chokers 24/7 which will kill the pilots should they risk awakening an Eva.

They are kept in a single room rigged with explosives.

In Shinji's case, he is (intended to be) put in 24/7 solitary confinement with explosives fitted as well.

Shinji is escorted around the wunder whilst restrained on a stretcher. (NOTE: The only time he isn't, is when Sakura takes him to Ritsuko).

It is confirmed in another thread that Misato gave clear permission to the crew for them to shoot Shinji on sight if they suspect he is attempting to get into an Eva. 

Now let me attempt to deconstruct these measures one-by-one:

It is understandable that Asuka and Mari wear DSS chokers because after all they are pilots and there is a risk of awakening. However in Shinji's case, he is forbidden from piloting and so there is no risk of awakening (remember Ritsuko did not think NERV would come after him, so they had no reason to think he would escape). So why place the DSS choker on him? Well we have already established it is simply because they have a resentment against him; there is no special, pragmatic reason. Is this realistic? Well I would say no for reasons I will explain later but I can certainly understand why others may say it is.

I don't think I will understand why they would keep their two main "soldiers" if you will, in an explosively rigged room. I believe others have  stated that from a tactical point, it's an extremely dumb move on WILLE's part. After all, if Asuka and Mari didn't have plot armor, what's to stop Gendo from tricking WILLE into killing their own pilots with these explosives? How would WILLE stop Gendo then? Will they use Shinji? No, for reasons I will state later. And another thing, we know that their rooms were already fitted with explosives so why on Earth would they add extra after the events of Q (when they stopped 4th impact). What do they hope to achieve with more bombs? Make the pilots more "deader" than they already are? In my opinion, this doesn't even come across as paranoid but just plain childish. Is this measure realistic from a story standpoint? No not in my eyes.

We know they intended to put Shinji in a solitary cell as this is what they do in Shin. If it was solitary confinement on it's own, then I believe it would be a realistic measure that would happen in real life. However I believe the writers did not factor in the effects of solitary confinement (especially one that is rigged to explode) on fully grown men; never mind a 14 year old who's just come out of a 14 year coma. Many people think solitary confinement is a walk in the park so I made another post a while ago highlighting why that's not the case:

"I remember when before Shin came out people here theorized that if Shinji stayed on the Wunder, they would eventually softened to him and let him help in ways that wouldn't have involved piloting. However with these revelations it looks like they intended to keep him in an isolated room far from everyone else that is (presumably) rigged with explosives as well as keeping the choker on his neck. Not even allowed to freely leave his cell without WILLE's permission (it is unlikely they would let him out judging from these measures). 

Even though Asuka and Mari were treated like this as well, at least they had each other and were able to leave as they had responsibilities in piloting. But Shinji was forbidden from piloting and was to be kept by himself except maybe being checked up on by Sakura now and again. So judging from these leaks (we will have to wait to properly see the full context) WILLE intended to lock Shinji in solitary confinement.

I have copied and pasted some of the effects of Solitary Confinement from Wikipedia below:

“Psychiatric: Research indicates that the psychological effects of solitary confinement may encompass "anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances, perceptual distortions, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, and psychosis." The lack of human contact, and the sensory deprivation that often go with solitary confinement, can have a severe negative impact on a prisoner's mental state that may lead to certain mental illnesses such as depression, permanent or semi-permanent changes to brain physiology, an existential crisis, and death.

Self-harm: According to a March 2014 article in American Journal of Public Health, "Inmates in jails and prisons attempt to harm themselves in many ways, resulting in outcomes ranging from trivial to fatal." Self harm was seven times higher among the inmates where seven percent of the jail population was confined in isolation. Fifty-three percent of all acts of self harm took place in jail. "Self-harm" included, but was not limited to, cutting, banging heads, self-amputations of fingers or testicles. These inmates were in bare cells, and were prone to jumping off their beds head first into the floor or even biting through their veins in their wrists. A main issue within the prison system and solitary confinement is the high number of inmates who turn to self-harm. Many of the inmates look to self-harm as a way to "avoid the rigors of solitary confinement."

Physical: Solitary confinement has been reported to cause hypertension, headaches and migraines, profuse sweating, dizziness, and heart palpitations. Many inmates also experience extreme weight loss due to digestion complications and abdominal pain. Many of these symptoms are due to the intense anxiety and sensory deprivation. Inmates can also experience neck and back pain and muscle stiffness due to long periods of little to no physical activity. These symptoms often worsen with repeated visits to solitary confinement.

Social: The effects of isolation unfortunately do not stop once the inmate has been released. After release from segregated housing, psychological effects have the ability to sabotage a prisoner's potential to successfully return to the community and adjust back to ‘normal’ life. The inmates are often startled easily, and avoid crowds and public places. They seek out confined small spaces because the public areas overwhelm their sensory stimulation.”

And this is just for solitary confinement. There are so many other things going on with and happening (or could happen) to Shinji such as the things below:

Shinji being only 14 years old.

Shinji being abandoned and neglected by his father.

Shinji being coerced/emotionally blackmailed to pilot Unit 1.

Shinji seeing girls he cared for "die".

Shinji being in a coma for 14 years.

Shinji being told he has a bomb on his neck.

Being told it is because he is being punished.

Being told he cannot pilot the eva anymore (he is effectively "useless" now).

Have his former co-pilot and friend try and punch him after he thought she was dead.

[Potentially] being told he started NTI and devastated the world.

[Potentially] being told that the girl he tried to save is "gone" and that she was a clone of his mother.

Being imprisoned in a cell (presumably) surrounded by explosives and not being able to freely leave.

Be completely isolated from everyone except when being checked up by a girl who's father he got killed. (NOTE: Mari might want to see him so Shinji at least has her, maybe). 

Have his mother figure (the woman who made him pilot the eva the most) threaten to detonate the choker around his neck and blow his head off when he tries to leave.

With the above list, is it any wonder his head is so messed up? I understand the purpose of these films is all about growing up and taking responsibility but expecting Shinji to willingly allow himself to be subjected to the treatment WILLE had in store for him is pure, unadulterated masochism. Much of what was is written here can safely be considered cruel, inhumane and arguably, torture. 

There is a massive difference between taking responsibility for one's mistakes and just letting the whole world torture you because you did something bad. My main fear and problem with Q and Thrice is that their main theme, which is accepting responsibility, is equated with accepting unreasonably cruel treatment. And I just think that is an EXTREMELY unhealthy message to send to people especially if they are depressed or live in abusive relationships."

When you take all these into account, does it place into perspective how messed up Shinji would have been had he stayed on the wunder? This is assuming that they thought they would never have a need for him, but as we find out in Shin, they needed Shinji in the end to defeat Gendo. If Shinji never left with Mark 09 and Misato successfully kept him "protective" custody, then one of three things would have happened when WILLE actually needed him to save everyone:

A: He would not have been in the mental state to pilot Unit 1 and Gendo would have completely wrecked him due to shit synch ratios. 

B: He would have told Misato and co. to fuck off and die. We've seen this nihilism before from Shinji (after the 5th angel). His incarceration alongside the humiliation and guilt from wearing the choker will have ratcheted up by a million.

C: He wouldn't have piloted because he would have killed himself. There's only so much a 14 year old can take and when subjected to a fate that causes even hardened criminals to resort to self-harm, genital mutilation and suicide, then what chance does Shinji have? 

Now back to my original point, do I think this measure is realistic? I would like to say yes if it was the solitary on it's own, however when combined with the other things, then I think the chances of Shinji commiting suicide is extremely high to the point where it's not believable for him to continue as an anime protagonist. You have to make sure the protagonist goes through difficulty in order to experience growth and change, however if you make it too harsh (to the point of committing suicide) then it seems less believable that they live to continue the story. On a separate note, many people think that Shinji was immature for leaving with Mark 09 the first chance he got and that this is proof that he is, in Asuka's words, a "brat". But let's be realistic, if this story is about Shinji's growth and maturation, then how exactly would WILLE's treatment of him be conducive to that? The truth is WILLE's sheer hostility towards him would have completely stunted any emotional growth and maturation in Shinji and it would have destroyed the point of the film. Also no-one can argue that WILLE would have eventually "come round" or "softened-up" towards Shinji because even after 14 years they still don't trust their own pilots. So yeah, Shinji most likely would have been stuck in solitary with a bomb around his neck until he either killed himself or the war ended (but even this doesn't guarantee his freedom).

Regarding the stretcher business. I don't understand why you have to restrain Shinji on a stretcher when the kid has already surrendered himself and has come voluntarily. Maybe WILLE are just full of bondage fetishists; it would certainly explain the chokers as well. 

If the DSS chokers and the explosive rooms weren't enough, Misato actually gave orders to the crew to shoot Shinji if they thought he was trying to pilot again. At this point, I just think this is just overkill. I mean the kid has a bomb on his neck that prevents him from awakening an Eva, you intended to keep him locked up even though he can't really leave the wunder except with outside help and now you intend to shoot him if you think he'll get into an Eva. The problem with this, is that piloting an Eva requires all the bridge-bunnies to sortie the damn thing. Shinji cannot enter Unit 1 by himself, especially since the thing is being used as an engine so why do they assume that Shinji is capable of being Sam Fisher and sneaking into Unit 1? We see that Sakura and Midori are actually willing to shoot Shinji in 3.0+1.0 and do so when he merely suggests that he pilot Unit 1. But seriously what harm would Shinji have done in Unit 1 considering the fact that Gendo was already going to start another impact anyway? Why actively try and kill (or injure in Sakura's case) the only guy that can save your ass? One cannot argue that they were just being "desperate or panicking" because in Midori's case, she actually takes the time to confirm her orders from Misato. This shows that at least, she was still of lucid mind. This particular altercation just beggars belief in my mind and the fact that Misato actually gave those orders on top of all the other measures is absolutely extraordinary. So as you can imagine, I do not think this was realistically executed.

However, I can already hear some detractors say: "So what? Misato hesitated to detonate the DSS choker and also took a bullet for Shinji. She redeemed herself from putting the DSS choker on him and the kill-order for if they thought he would try and get into an Eva." 

And to those people I say….not really. There is an idiom attributed to Benjamin Franklin and it goes like this: "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." How does this apply to Misato and Shinji's relationship? Well Misato wouldn't have had to hesitate to pull the trigger if she didn't put it on him in the first place. Misato wouldn't have had to take a bullet for Shinji, if she didn't give permission for the crew to shoot him in the first place. Let's take this following dialogue for example:

916-929:

Kitakami: "It's a good thing we got Major Shikinami back. But why'd we have to take that disease along with her?"

Aoba: "Just leave it alone. Better than Nerv still being able to use him."

Tama: "If he tries to get into an Evangelion, all hands have permission to shoot on sight. There's nothing to worry about this time."

Kitakami: "Come on, that's all for show. The last time he broke out of here, the Captain couldn't put him down. I've got zero trust about this time either."

Nagara: "He was a kid. I can understand why she'd hesitate."

Kitakami: "That 'kid' caused Near Third Impact and murdered my entire family!"

Hyuga: "Near Third was a consequence of what he did, not his goal. The Captain's doing her best to atone for that too."

Takao: "That's right. She's who Kaji entrusted with Wille, and it's our job to trust the captain."

We learn a few things from this dialogue. Firstly, the older WILLE members are much more understanding to Shinji and Misato's situation: Aoba and Hyuga understand that it's better to keep an eye on Shinji and that he never meant to start NTI, Takao is one who always trusts Misato's judgement and Sumire understands that Misato would have found it difficult to kill a child, especially one that Misato was close with. 

Secondly, it appears that the younger WILLE members (Midori, Sakura and Tama) are the ones that are fearful/hateful towards Shinji (NOTE: Tama is a strange case, he strikes me as the sort of kid that just follows what everyone else is feeling. He might not feel anything towards Shinji beyond what you'd expect). 

Finally it appears that most of WILLE crew members are actually reasonable people and are not the extremely desperate and paranoid individuals some people on the forum believe. Remember this is AFTER Shinji started the 4th impact in Q. The fact that some of the WILLE crew members speak of Shinji in this way, show they are capable of understanding. Most actually trust Misato and respect her judgement except for Midori, who questions Misato's capabilities in following through on her threats. 

Which brings me to my next point. Misato has had no hesitation in pulling rank in the past. In 2.0, she even has an altercation with Ritsuko, her best friend, right before they fight the 8th angel. Misato is a woman that will tell even her best friend to STFU, when it comes to doing what she wants. Having said that, (timeskip shenanigans aside) there's no reason why she couldn't have done the same with the younger WILLE crew members. She could have nipped all of it in the bud by telling Sakura, Midori and the rest of them that Shinji was groomed to cause NTI and it was not his fault.

Instead, despite being the captain that everyone loves and fears, she kowtowed to the crew's paranoia and had the pilots fitted with explosive chokers, put in explosively rigged solitary confinement and gave the order to kill Shinji if they feared the worst. This is the sort of thing that drives fully grown men to suicide, never mind 14 year olds that have just come out of a coma. Imagine if Shinji did commit suicide in his cell. Who would Misato and WILLE have turned to in order to defeat Gendo in the end? What if Gendo tricked WILLE into killing their own pilots with the explosives? They would be properly screwed then. If Misato actually cared, as we are led to believe from her hesitation to kill Shinji, then she would have told the rest of the WILLE crew to fuck off, instead of alienating and putting Shinji and the pilots in that much risk. Are we really expected to believe that Misato placed such extreme countermeasures on Shinji just to appease Midori and Sakura? Not likely. This is why I believe that Misato would not have put the DSS choker on Shinji in the first place, and her doing so in Q was extremely unrealistic and out of character, even with anything that happened during the timeskip.

Some of you will say: "Who cares about realism? It's a show about aliens and growing up." While this is true, Anno has proven that he is able to pull the themes off much better when you look at the NGE series. Disregarding the self-contained narrative, it is obvious that the purpose of Q was to bring Shinji to the same point he was at after episode 24 of the series. If we look at how NGE/EOE handled Shinji's depression, we see that it is quite realistic:

The neglect and coercion by the adults in his life, almost dying to angels multiple times, the sexual tension with Asuka, almost killing Touji, finding out Rei is a clone of his mother, Misato putting the moves on him and having to kill Kaworu all culminate towards Shinji's mental state during EOE. Shinji is passively suicidal but it's due to the *situation* and his own introverted tendencies instead of people actively trying to hurt and isolate him. He finds the will to live again due to his mothers words despite knowing just how difficult living might be. If you remove all the Evas and the Angels from the story, the themes that are touched upon (isolation, neglect, misunderstanding) still apply and the audience can still resonate with them. 

The rebuilds however go about it completely differently. They bring Shinji to that same suicidal state by having all the characters/plot actively harm Shinji's mental health by:

Putting him in a coma for 14 years so he is completely clueless. Imagine how groggy you are when you wake up in the morning and then multiply that by a million. 

Have Misato psychologically castrate Shinji by telling him he won't do anything with a look of disdain on her face.

Have Ritsuko make Shinji feel dread by telling him he has a bomb on his neck and it's because he is being "punished".

Not tell him why he is being punished when he asks Misato.

Have Asuka try to punch Shinji after he thought she was dead.

Tell Shinji the girl he saved is "gone”.

Have his "mother figure" threaten to blow his head off for wanting to leave with the girl you just told him is gone.

Have Asuka and Mari attack Shinji in Lilith's chamber even though Shinji was seemingly willing to listen to them had Asuka not kept attacking. (Watch that scene again and you'll see when Asuka learns what Shinji is trying to do, she stops attacking but instead of explaining that he's being manipulated, she just calls him a brat instead).

Even Mari was willing to potentially kill or cripple Shinji with the Anti-AT rounds. (We don't know what the AA rounds are truly capable of because the only time they are used on screen, they don't work. The round cartridges state that they are armor and AT field piercing and have explicit restrictions on their use. The fact that Mari requires Asuka's explicit authorization to use them imply that they are most likely lethal and would have killed/crippled Shinji had he been in a normal Eva). 

Have Shinji's friend's head explode with the device Shinji's "mother figure" actually meant for him. Imagine seeing someone's head explode and then remember that your "mother figure" actually meant that to be for you. That would certainly mess anyone up.

Have Asuka then kick and manhandle him when he is catatonic.

Have Asuka force feed him to the point where he pukes whilst he is still grieving the death of his friend. 

Have Shinji only be escorted whilst tied to a stretcher despite him coming voluntarily.

Have Misato place Shinji in 24/7 solitary confinement in a cell rigged with explosives.

Have Misato tell the WILLE crew to shoot Shinji on sight if they think he's getting into an EVA.

Have people tell Shinji that he's being a brat the entire time for reacting badly to all this.

By having Misato, Asuka, WILLE reject and "punish" Shinji so harshly so it kicks off his isolation and desperation, it makes Shinji's "recovery" seem less believable. Anno himself didn't even know how to make Shinji recover psychologically in 3.0+1.0 and he actually had to ask the voice actors on how to make that happen. The story made the WILLE crew go full scorched-earth and in doing so made Shinji's "growth" and his reconciliation with Misato seem impossible. 

I have already stated that I believe Q represents "Condemnation" and Shin represents "Compassion" and I think both films pull that off brilliantly. But that doesn't mean I think the characters acted in a realistic manner. I do not believe that Misato would have placed such harsh sanctions on Shinji in the first place for the reasons I have stated above. And if she did, I do not believe that Shinji would have easily forgiven Misato (even IF she took a bullet for him) as we see he does in the film. I do not believe that WILLE were merely "scared and desperate" because as the dialogue above shows, they are surprisingly understanding (but still disapproving) of Shinji's situation despite him literally starting another impact. I do not believe that Misato would have bent over to Sakura and Midori's resentment and taken measures against Shinji, just to ease their minds. 

In summary, my main problem with the post-timeskip rebuilds is that I feel they gaslight the audience in thinking that Shinji was just being a "brat" the entire time by having Asuka and Mari say: "You have grown a little/You smell like an adult now." However, the truth is Shinji's been through so much mental suffering perpetrated by the people he cares about, that it's a miracle he's not killed himself. It would certainly break most of us on this forum. The movies seek to show Shinji "finally" taking responsibility when the truth is, the plot went so above and beyond putting him down in such an extreme manner in the first place.

[x-nephophile-x]

GOT TO THE SCENE AND LET ME TELL YOU IM EMOTIONAL AF.  Like??? Johnny gives V his dogtags, He has you acknowledge his question- because you CAN reply to his “Would you take a bullet for me?” with “Dumbass question” to which he’ll simply reiterate “Yes. Or no?” HE pointedly brings you guys to a state where you acknowledge this- what you and he have, multiple times (Such as on the roof after the parade, when, if you smoke, states ‘We’re bickering like an old married couple, think it’s time we let some trust take hold”) It’s up to V how they feel, but he forces them to acknowledge it nonetheless so they know where they stand with one another. So that V knows where HE stands in regards to the whole situation, to let trust take hold.  And you can refuse to take him at his word. You don’t have to. V has no real reasons to trust him- mostly he’s been a voice in their head, sometimes a guiding hand such as during Search and Destroy, or during some active combat scenes (Such as in the Jinguji Store with the Cyberpsycho, calling out for you to be careful) and it isn’t like he doesn’t have a selfish reason to want to keep you safe; after all, he’s a passenger so if you go down, so does he.  Except, at some point, maybe after reliving the whole Alt scenario, or maybe even before that, Johnny decides his life for yours. That’s why he tells you exactly that; “I want to make it clear, I will do you no wrong. When the time comes, I’ll go, I’ll agree to get wiped”. To which V can (but doesn’t have to) reply “I...I’d do the same for you”.  Now couple that with if V gets pissed and tells him off for how he acted with Alt? How much of a douchebag he was?  And then immediately go into V calling for Johnny because they’re scared (which you can do multiple times throughout the game, such as during the ice bath in the crypt, and here as well as in the Devil Ending, and possibly other places I may have missed) and Johnny grabbing them, saving their life by taking over, getting them someplace safe (ID LOVE TO SEE THAT SEQUENCE OH MY GOD) And then boom, you’re here and this man asks if you’d take a bullet for him. And then, when you say yes, and if you agree to help him with tracking down Smasher to get some final closure, and to see Rogue (!), you end up at  “Guess I’m feelin’ better. We better get goin’.” And then these two lines above. LIKE HOLY SHIT. The romantic undertones in that hit me so hard that I realized “Oh my V is in love, holy shit”. the way you can read Johnny and V as romantic physically hurts me. My very first playthrough, I legit romanced both River and Judy, for some kind of fulfilment before the end whatever it may bring and even though my V had feelings for both, she knew damn well that a happy, normal life after this was said and done wasn’t gonna’ be in her cards. Because the only time my V felt like she belonged, was at home, was with Jackie. And the only time she felt that again, eventually, was with Johnny.  This scene right here felt like my V had slowly been falling in (presumably unrequited, given the Rogue mention and what she’d seen with Alt) love with him, and flipping between “This is fucking stupid, he’s a shitty person” and “we’re bonding in one of the most intimate ways that no two human beings really should be able to and it feels so intense”  and “I literally cannot trust him, he’ll say whatever to get what he wants” and “He’s never done me wrong” because the thing is, Johnny truly never does you wrong. Even if he gives you advice and you take it, and it ends up bad, he genuinely thinks it was the best course of action. He was never out to purposely try to do you wrong, except in the very beginning when he woke up to living in some stranger’s head and freaked the fuck out and tried to punch through the problem. I’m rambling, I have no point except that this line right here does me in, every time, and the whole bullet question scene still hits me so hard, and all his scenes feel H e a v y and im very emotional bye.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Logan’s Gay and Remy’s in a Suit

Summary: Just read the title Content: Gays, so much gays, nb!remy, nb!logan (he uses he/him pronouns but he’s still an enby suckers), mentions of dying of gay, logan thinking that flirting = bullying because he’s a useless gay Pairing: Romo losleep Notes: I’m so sleep-deprived I should be sleeping but i HAD to write this so. have it. inspired by this art by @strawberryjellystuff

~~

    Logan was a smart person. He knew a good deal of things. He knew the distance from the earth to the sun, to the moon, and to Mars. He knew the average amount of bones in the human body at any given interval of life. He knew the names of every capital of every city in north and south america.

    He also knew that he was very, very gay. This fact alone wasn’t too shocking or even that impressive. Logan had known he was gay since he was fifteen. It hadn’t been hard to figure out.

    It was the ‘very, very’ that was important. As a rule, Logan rarely felt the need to enhance his words with ‘very.’ He made his points, he made them clearly, and he made them exactly as he wanted them. There was no reason for him to use ‘very.’

    Then he met Remy.

    And Remy… woo boy. Remy.

    Remy made Logan feel it extremely necessary to add ‘very, very’ to his normally adequate descriptor of ‘gay.’ That was because Remy was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very pretty. And there was only a little bit of the author’s bias showing through in that statement. It was mostly cold, hard fact. You know because LOGAN’S thinking it and he thinks in pretty much only fact.

    So Logan was gay, Remy was (objectively) the prettiest person to exist, and Logan was trying his hardest to stop his writer from taking away his braincells and turning him into a proper gay disaster.

    Except he and Remy worked at the same university. In the same department. During most of the same hours.

    Logan was having a hell of a time holding onto those braincells.

    However, while it had taken time, Logan had adjusted. Survival of the fittest, and all- if Logan wasn’t able to adapt to constantly being around someone so pretty it was outlawed in several made-up countries and a few real ones, then Logan wasn’t fit enough to survive. So he had adapted and he had done so flawlessly.

    Better put, he had suffered several weeks learning how to adjust to the fact that Remy’s naturally perfect looks were only increased by xyr leather jacket and sunglasses, the fact that xy knew how to smirk like xy owned the world (impossible, Logan had considered before, considering Remy was clearly the world, and one could not own oneself), and the fact that Remy was a bully.

    That was the only word Logan had for Remy’s actions towards him, anyways- after all, there was no way Remy had missed the way Logan’s cheeks seemed to literally light on fire every time xy smiled at him, or the little giggle Logan had never properly learned to fight down every time Remy called him a petname (a wholly ridiculous response considering Remy called lots of people petnames- sure, xy only ever seemed to call Logan ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘light of my world and stars of my universe’ but that didn’t mean anything), or the way Logan stumbled over his every word when attempting to return an offhanded compliment that Remy likely had paid him by accident while thinking of… coffee. Remy did like xyr coffee, after all.

    But Remy’s bullying aside, Logan HAD adapted. He was able to look at Remy with minimal flushing, he had become the master of avoiding conversation topics designed to trap him (though Remy was becoming creative with xyr compliment-trap setups… Logan would have to start adapting faster than Remy if he hoped to survive the semester), and he knew the fastest exits out of every room and building in the entire university, ensuring that- if ever needed- he could literally flee Remy. He was surviving in his new, Remy-included environment.

    And then the author Jelly Remy decided to adapt as well.

    It had been a normal day of work up until then- Logan was working on checking over papers and going through his lesson plan a few more times, making sure he had everything ready for the school day. Upon realizing his coffee had run low, he got up, stretching as he began to move towards the staff lounge, seeking a refill.

    There was only one other teacher there at the moment, which Logan figured made sense- most of the astronomy professors had early morning classes, Logan being one of only two who didn’t. He had gotten out of it by luck- the other had insomnia and wasn’t normally at school in the mornings.

    Logan barely glanced at xyr, however, wanting to get his coffee before he had to deal with being flustered at seven in the morning. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be that bad of a fluster, anyways- he was at least partially prepared this time, and he was about to have coffee on his side, and it looked like Remy had traded xyr normal leather-jacket look for a suit of some kind, and Remy had probably had a rough night if xy were in early so xyr flusters wouldn’t be top of xyr game, and-

    Logan stopped. Blinked. Processed. Processed again.

    A… suit?

    Logan turned to look at Remy and immediately regretted the decision. Because those braincells he had mentioned earlier? Gone. Stolen. Removed from existence. In theory, the author’s got them stored up somewhere but… eh, their location’s not important. Not like Logan could use them even if he found them.

    Because Remy was in a suit- a blue suit with delicate, lovely white flower designs traced over the chest and around xyr wrists, complimented by a lovely purple tie Logan had never seen Remy wear before- mostly because Remy didn’t normally wear ties. Or suits. Why was Remy wearing a suit?

    To kill me Logan decided barely a second later when Remy caught him staring and smirked at him in a way that was most decidedly an act of bullying.

    “Good morning, sunlight and starshine.” Remy said, further proving that xy was a bully and that xy was bullying Logan right then and there, a conclusion Logan came too as he clamped a hand over his mouth and focused on not making any sound even slightly akin to a giggle. “How are you on this morning that’s nowhere near as fine as you?”

    Logan, smartly, didn’t respond. Speaking would ultimately result in him stuttering, mumbling, and tripping over his words, which would make Remy smirk more, which would make Logan blush more, which would create a horrible cycle that would only end when either Remy left or Logan died. So, by not responding, the cycle never started and therefore could not end in Logan’s death.

    In choosing to do nothing else but stare at Remy without saying a word, however, Logan apparently had responded, in a way- Remy’s smirk still grew and Logan still ended up blushed harder.

    “Oh, darling, don’t tell me I’ve made you speechless.” Remy teased, moving from xyr spot against the wall to stand in front of Logan, tilting xyr head to the side. “No, wait, do tell me. I do love to hear your voice.”

    Logan remained silent. Remy couldn’t go on forever with no new material… right?

    “Or, hey, maybe it’s not me.” Remy went on, unconcerned with Logan’s silence. “Maybe you’re just tired. That’s why you were acting perfectly fine until you saw me, after all. Just tired. Is that right? Or should I keep guessing?”

    Realizing that silence was getting him nowhere and nothing (besides more flustered), Logan decided to simply attempt to move on with his day. Maybe ignoring Remy would make xyr go away.

    Logan had just barely turned to once more resume his walk to the coffee pot when he was forced to stop once more, this time not by Remy’s looks but by the fact that Remy had a hand and the ability to grab Logan’s wrist with it.

    A very annoying ability for sure, given it not only prevented Logan from continuing with his brilliant plan of ‘if you just ignore xyr eventually xy’ll go away’, but also increased his blush and got him looking at Remy again which was increasing his blush even more. By now, Logan was fairly sure his entire face was red, which was completely unfair given that blue was much more his colour.

    “Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that.” Remy said, voice now both confident and sweet, which wasn’t helping Logan’s goal to Just Stop Blushing Already at all. “If you really have had a long night, I don’t mean to tease.”

    “N-no, I’m fine.” Logan said, which was a lie, because he wasn’t fine at all, he was doing terribly, but he was also doing a million times better than usual, which also wasn’t fine but it was in a completely different direction than terribly. So, either way, his statement was a lie. “Just uh… a long morning.”

    Logan realized that was the wrong answer the moment Remy’s softer smile once more became a smirk. “I take it back, then. I very much mean to tease.”

    “Ah-” Logan cleared his throat, trying to find a way to backtrack, “I do have, uh, a couple of papers to take care of, so-”

    “And you don’t have class for at least another hour.” Remy pointed out for him, still holding onto his wrist and giving no indication that xy’d be letting go of it anytime soon. “You’ve got the time to spare for a bit of conversation with your favorite colleague.”

    “You presume to be my favorite?” Logan managed to say without tripping over any of his words.

    Remy’s smirk just turned knowing. “I don’t have to be a poker player to spot your tells, babe. Unless, of course, you have another reason for constantly blushing around me.”

    “You possibly have a higher-than-average body temperature that causes all the objects and people within your near vicinity to heat up as well, therefore prompting a blush in those organisms that have the ability to blush.” Logan offered, well aware everything he was saying was bullshit meant only as a poor attempt to save himself.

    Unsurprisingly, Remy saw right through him. “Nah, hun, I don’t think it’s that. You can try again, if you want, but if you’d let me take a crack at it-”

    “Please do not.” Logan interrupted rather hurriedly, which only fueled Remy’s amusement. “I am simply… tired. And busy. So, ah, if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back to my work-”

    “Alright, beautiful, I know when I’m wanted.” Remy said, politely half-ignoring as Logan looked away and pretended to cough into his arm as he let out a small giggle. “One question before you go?”

    “I really should be-”

    “Are you free tonight?”

    That shut Logan up. “I- what?”

    “Are you free tonight?” Remy repeated, only smiling at Logan’s confusion. “I know this really lovely place downtown, I promise you you’ll love it, though not nearly as much as I love you-”

    “I- what?!” Logan said, more panickedly this time. Tonight? Restaurant? Love you?

    Remy titled xyr head to the side, looking puzzled. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer for you, love.”

    “I- ah- you- are you- are you asking me out on- on a date?” Logan demanded, not caring much for how many times he had to restart his sentence but having no solution for that particular problem.

    “...I would’ve hoped that was fairly obvious, yes.” Remy answered, shaking xyr head a bit as they continued to watch Logan with amused confusion. “This isn’t a surprise to you, is it?”

    “Well- I- uh- it’s just-”

    Remy laughed. “Oh, darling, I hate to laugh at you, but- Lo, hun, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks now. This can’t be that shocking.”

    “You’ve been flirting with me?!” Logan responded. “When?!”

    “I- Logan, I’ve been calling you the most ridiculous of petnames, complimenting you every time you so much as blink, repeatedly breaking into your classroom to force you to eat lunch with me, interrupting your classes to tease you- what do you think I’ve been doing?”

    “Bullying me!”

    “I was- I’m sorry, say that again?”

    “Bullying me!” Logan repeated as asked, moving his coffee cup into the hand that Remy was holding hostage so that he could run his fingers through his hair, feeling frazzled. “You kept- you kept doing things to make me blush and- and lose focus- and- and giggle, for gods’ sakes- what else could you have been doing?!”

    To Logan’s surprise, instead of defending xyrself, Remy just laughed as xyr face broke out in the widest grin Logan had seen xyr wearing all morning. “You absolute dork.” Xy said, though xyr tone was only endearing. “You really are a disaster gay, huh?”

    “...Just a little.” Logan said weakly, before forcing himself to amend, “Maybe a lot.”

    “A lot sounds more accurate, yeah.” Remy agreed, still laughing a bit. “Bullying you- oh, you really are too cute, sugar.”

    Logan resisted the urge to run to exit number fifty-nine and escape the blush that, at this point, was likely hot enough to permanently burn his skin. “You’re still being a bully.”

    “Oh, probably.” Remy admitted before xyr grin was once again replaced by a smirk Logan had both memorized and yet also knew he would never get used to. “But am I being too much of a bully that you won’t go out on a date with me?”

    “I- uh- I-” Logan ducked his head. He couldn’t accept Remy’s offer, he really couldn’t, it would almost guarantee his death, and he had worked so hard to become immune to Remy’s killer charm (pun not intended and not appreciated).

    But at the same time… Logan wasn’t sure he had the willpower to refuse.

    So, predictably, he settled for a quick little nod that said everything Remy needed to hear without Logan having to stutter his way through a single word.

    Remy’s grin turned dazzling. “Perfect!” Xy exclaimed, quickly pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before he could even begin to react. “I’ll pick you up after all our classes are out, okay?”

    “O-okay.” Logan said numbly, free hand raising to rest over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling half-trapped in a dream.

    “Perfect!” Remy repeated, still grinning as xy let go of Logan’s hand, heading towards the door, bursting with energy and clearly on xyr way to continue planning the exacts of Logan’s demise.

Before xy could fully get out of the room, however, Logan managed to get his voice back about him and call out, “Wait!”

Remy immediately stopped, turning back to look at Logan. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I- uh-” Logan gestured vaguely at Remy, “Your suit. You- You never wear suits. Why today…?”

At that, Remy’s grin just widened to a degree Logan wasn’t entirely sure should be humanly possible. “For our date, of course!” Xy answered, raising xyr sunglasses just so that xy could wink at Logan. “I had a feeling you’d say yes.”

And with that, Remy left, leaving Logan to stand in the middle of the staff lounge, empty coffee mug still in one hand, the other still resting on his cheek and over the spot where Remy had kissed him, feeling dazed in the best sort of way possible.

He was still standing there when another one of the teachers wandered in, shooting him a strange look. “Are you alright, Logan?”

“Not at all.” Logan answered truthfully.

He was much, much better than alright.

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 11 - Anonymous

_____

Jack opens the door, stepping aside to allow a pale girl with medium-length blonde hair into the small house. She's clad in slightly ripped jeans, a pair of sneakers, a maroon tank top, and a black jacket. In her hand is a plastic bag that looks to have been taken from some kind of store, and what resides inside isn't completely clear, although judging by the shape of the objects Y\n assumes it to be shoes. Her violet-grey eyes land on Jack, then shift over to Y\n, who remains leaning against the wall and watching the scene warily in front of her. 

She nods in silent greeting before walking through the door frame and into the living room, being followed by yet another girl, this one much younger and, instead of gripping a bag, a brown, old-looking teddy bear is tightly clutched within her arms. Her eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, her chocolate-brown hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. She wears a multi-colored hoodie splashed with shades of pink, lemony yellow, blue, and purple, and the hood itself has cotton cat ears attached to the hem. She has on a pair of black leggings, a pink mini-skirt, and rose-colored tennis shoes.

Faint freckles are scattered along her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and her gaze travels from the floor and up to Y\n as she tilts her head shyly. There's a kid here, too? Y\n furrows her eyebrows and glances between the three people now standing ahead of her, two of which she's never seen before in her life. She assumes the teen to be who Jack called 'Wisteria', but who the younger one is she hasn't a clue. She never heard a kid being mentioned, so the news is a bit surprising to her. 

That's when she takes notice of the blood slowly trickling down the side of her head, hidden previously by her long locks of hair, and dripping down onto her hoodie, forever staining the brightly-shaded piece of clothing with quite a large blotch of crimson. The child doesn't appear to be in any pain, but how would that be? If she had just been bashed in the head by some blunt object, how would she be able to ignore it? Come to think of it, how would she even be standing right now? Shouldn't she be knocked cold? 

Y\n's heart rate increases from concern, and she's tempted to comment on it or even lunge forward, pull the girl toward her and get her away from the two teens standing in front of the doorway. They don't seem even remotely worried about it, either because they're the ones that gave her the damage, or they just haven't taken notice of it yet. "What is Sally doing here?" Jack questions, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie and taking up a casual-looking posture. He doesn't sound mad, just curious, and perhaps a little surprised. 

Wisteria shrugs, wrapping a hand around her hair and slinging it across one of her shoulders. "Because she wanted to come."

"You couldn't have just left her with Ben or somethin'?" She shoots him a mildly annoyed expression. 

"Are you stupid? That'd be a terrible idea." 

"You've done it before."

"And that's a mistake I will never make, again." After a moment, Jack murmurs a half-hearted "okay, fine" in agreement before shutting the door and propping his back against its solid wooden surface. Wisteria briefly motions toward Y\n with a raised eyebrow. "This the girl?"

"I have a name," Y\n says, narrowing her eyes at the blonde and unable to stop glimpsing down at who she presumes is 'Sally', stomach churning with unanswered questions. She gets an impatient glance in return.

"I don't care," she responds, crossing her arms. Sensing a brewing disagreement, Jack interjects before it can go any farther. 

"Yes, this is Y\n. And Y\n, this is Wisteria and Sally." The young brunette takes a small step forward, bringing her hand up and giving Y\n a timid wave as she clings tighter onto her stuffed animal. 

"Hi..." Her voice is soft, so soft in fact that Y\n has to strain her ears just to hear and understand the words that leave her mouth. She offers the ghost of a smile in response, mostly one of concern for Sally's well-being. Who did that to her? Surely she didn't hit herself straight in the head, and even if she had, then she couldn't have made that big of an injury. She's just a kid, after all, no older than eight or nine, there's no way she could manage that kind of strength. Then again, there do seem to be some pretty...unusual people here. Is she one of them?

Wisteria stares her down as if studying her appearance, waiting for her to do something, silently judging her. Wisteria seems to be the only normal-looking person that Y\n has come across so far, save for the odd color of her eyes, though that can easily be overlooked. She'll still use it against her if she has to, though. 

Y\n shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, meeting the slightly taller girl's gaze and refusing to break contact for fear of looking weak. She is not weak, and she doesn't want anyone to think that she is. Jack runs his fingers through his hair, standing to his full height once more, and steps toward Wisteria. "So, you brought the stuff?"

Without looking away from Y\n, she nods. "Yeah, I did." A barely-noticeable, sly smirk etches itself across her face as she uncrosses her arms. "Here. Catch." Before Y\n can even blink, the bag of shoes is being launched at her head, and she only just catches it before it can hit her in the eye and temporarily blind her. Huffing indignantly, she holds the plastic bag by its handle and places a hand on her hip, glaring at Wisteria and earning a haughty grin in return. 

"Thanks." Her voice comes out in a sarcastic drawl, contemplating on throwing the bag back at her and giving her a taste of her own medicine. Instead, she focuses her attention on the child standing right beside Wisteria, then down to the large gash on her temple, unable to quell the curiosity about the unexplained wound and the worry for her safety. "What happened to your head, Sally?" She tries to keep her tone mild as she bends down a bit so she'll be closer to her height, as to not further intimidate her. Sally looks down nervously, stepping to the side until she's hidden partially by the taller girl's legs and the lower part of her torso. 

"I...It's, uh..."

"None of your business," Wisteria snaps, suddenly becoming defensive and putting an arm in front of Sally protectively. Y\n takes a stride forward, boldness swarming inside of her chest. 

"I'm not gonna stand aside and let some kid bleed to death while you're not doing anything about it."

"Alright, alright." Jack puts his arms out in front of him and steps between the two girls, facing Y\n with a peaceful tone to his voice. "Y\n, Sally isn't in danger."

Her eyes widen and she points at the green-eyed child mostly obscured by the larger frames of both Jack and Wisteria in exasperation. "Do you not see her head? Somebody clearly split it wide open!"

"Yes. Yes, they did." She presses her lips together and scowls at Jack, not understanding why he's acting so mellow about an eight-year-old kid being injured. "But that was a long time ago."

"So then why is it still bleeding?"

"Because it doesn't stop. It can't." Raising a skeptical and, distinctly confused eyebrow, she stares at him, waiting for him to continue the rest of his explanation. "Look... she isn't normal, not by a long shot. Not anymore."

"She doesn't need to know all of this, Jack," the blonde spits from behind him, though he only turns his head back to face her for a moment to say his reply. 

"If she's going to be staying here, yes, she does." He shifts his attention back onto Y\n, ignoring the scoff of protest that erupts from behind him. "And what I mean by that, is... she's not human anymore. She's a ghost."

A ghost? He's talking about ghosts, of all things now? How crazy is everyone? She's never been a strong believer in ghosts or hauntings or anything like that but considering everything that's been happening to her as of late, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to start believing that things like ghosts do exist. But to be a ghost...you'd have to die. Does this mean that Sally died? Come to think of it, that wound does look pretty fatal... 

"But ghosts aren't real," she says quietly, mainly to reassure herself that things like what he says are only in movies, and books, and TV shows. But are they, really? There has to be some reason that Sally isn't hurt by that exceedingly large gash in her head. Could that be why? Because she's already dead?

"They are, Y\n. That's why she isn't in pain." He points down toward Sally. "Because she's not alive, anymore." Y\n stares at Jack incredulously, then over to Sally, trying to process the information in her head. A dead person walking around? Like a zombie? Except, one major difference between Sally and a zombie is that Sally isn't currently trying to eat her alive. At least she's a friendly ghost, right? 

She blinks, finding herself not completely in-touch with her surroundings. Next Jack will be telling her that there are aliens from another world about to invade Earth and that they need some time-traveling machine to stop them. It wouldn't be a big surprise, at least not at this point. Okay, so ghosts are apparently real. Yeah, that makes sense.

Though she really can't understand how such an idea works, she figures that dwelling on the matter won't do her any good. Just go with it, right? It'll make it easier on herself if she doesn't think about how bizarre this whole situation is. She just has to keep her mind on more plausible explanations, but like what? She hasn't any other theories for everything that's been taking place lately, what more does she have to go off of? The best idea she has is that this is all one massive hallucination, but even that's a far stretch of her imagination at this point. It all feels too real to be imagined. 

Wisteria scoffs, rolling her vivid periwinkle eyes and drawing Y\n out of her hysteria of scrambled thoughts. "See? She can't even handle the simple truth." She furrows her eyebrows at the shorter girl still standing on the other side of Jack. "I still think we just shoulda killed her—"

"Wisteria." Jack cuts her off, voice austere as he shifts around to better face her. "That wouldn't have been a smart move."

"And why not?" She places a hand on her hip audaciously. "She wouldn't be our problem." He sighs in reply, shaking his head in disagreement. 

"You know why she's here. It's better for all of us this way." Y\n stares at the two with a look of mild disbelief—like, hello? They do know that she's still right here in front of them, yeah? She can tell that Jack is trying to at least be subtle, but Wisteria on the other hand just acts like she doesn't care at all. Which is likely the case. "Y\n," He looks back at her, "are you ready to go?"

"I don't want to go." She eyes Wisteria, backing up farther into the wall behind her. "I'm not living in some stranger's house." At least she's been acquainted with Jack prior to all of this, and she's been talking with him for the past little while so she feels the most comfortable with him. What if this 'Brian' person is as obnoxious and appalling as Jeff? Or even more so? She really doesn't want to deal with someone like that, much less stay with them. 

"Brian isn't going to hurt you, he's one of the most mature people here." Jack tries to sound reassuring for the most part, though it hardly works. "And Wisteria won't do anything either, she's just taking you to him." Y\n crosses her arms in protest, choosing not to verbally respond and instead send a stink eye his way. 

"Don't be afraid..." A soft voice erupts from below her, and she glances down to meet the green eyes of Sally, who had somehow walked closer to her without Y\n even realizing it. Her facial expression melts into one of compassion as she once again looks at the open gash still bleeding on her head. If the little girl trusts them, shouldn't she? 

Absolutely not. To be fair though, if Sally really is a ghost then they couldn't hurt her, anyway, so she wouldn't have a reason to fear them. Can she really trust her when she says not to be afraid? She could be in on it all, for crying out loud. Although, maybe she should be a bit more compliant just to see what happens. Other than kidnapping her among some other, more mild things, they haven't hurt her. Jack is the only one that's really even communicated with her, and as much as she hates to admit it, he's been nothing but patient with her since she woke up here. He didn't even seem to hold anything against her at the fact that she kneed him in a place no boy wants to be hit.

Plus, he provided her with an explanation for everything that's been happening. No one else had done that. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and releases an inaudible sigh from in-between her lips before turning and strolling down the hallway, stopping once she gets into the room she originally woke up inside. The broken glass that had been previously in front of the doorway seems to have been cleaned up, and she's more than grateful. It would suck stepping on shattered glass, it's a wonder she was able to avoid it to start with. Sitting on the bed, she takes the pair of shoes and a couple of old-looking socks out of the plastic store-made bag before beginning to slide them over her feet. 

She tries not to bump her ankle, though her attempts prove futile when the top of the sock constricts around it, making a bolt of pain shoot up her leg. "I hate that stupid dog..." she mutters, remembering the very recent sensation of a canine's teeth clamping down on her ankle and refusing to let go until his owner told him to. She rubs at the bandages, trying to give the inflicted area some kind of relief before pulling the shoes up and slipping them, too, on her feet. She ties the laces, inwardly rejoicing at the fact that the shoes aren't high-tops, otherwise, it would bring her even more pain. 

From the living room, Y\n can hear faint talking from who she assumes to be Jack and Wisteria, one of the voices slightly hostile and the other calm and collected. Well, what now? Go with Wisteria, she guesses, although she really doesn't have another choice. It isn't like she can run away in the state that her foot is in—she would surely be caught before she made it ten feet if even that. Jack said that Brian, whoever that is, won't harm her. Is he telling the truth? Who even knows. He's lied before, how can she be so sure that he isn't doing it again?

She shifts her gaze up from her shoes to the brunette girl standing in the doorway, looking a little timid though offering an affable smile nonetheless. She bounces on her heels, teddy clutched to her chest, and speaks. "Hi..."

Y\n tilts her head curiously, sitting properly once again and staring at the young girl. "Hi..." Sally slowly makes her way inside the room, face displaying innocence and a friendly desire. 

"There aren't many girls here," she says, eyes averting down to the floor shyly. "You'll be the fourth, if you stay..." 

"Fourth, huh?" She folds her hands into her lap tentatively. "Who's the third?"

"That's Zero...but she isn't here right now. So it's just me, and Sissy...and you." That comment makes her eyebrows furrow in mild puzzlement.

"Wait, Wisteria's your...your sister?" Y\n can't see any resemblance between the two, not even their eyes are the same color. And their personalities definitely seem different, with one being brash and the other being quiet and timid. Then again, having just met them she can't be too harsh of a judge but first impressions are everything. Sally parts her lips a moment as if she's about to say something only to cut herself off. She twirls a strand of long, brown hair around her finger as she collects her thoughts while Y\n waits patiently. 

"Well...no. Not really, but...she treats me like her little sister."

Makes sense, she thinks, She did seem pretty protective of her. 

"You're staying, right?" She steps a little closer, biting her lip hopefully. "Bad people are after you. They're after all of us. This is the only place we're safe."

"Sally...I have a family to get back to. They need me. I...I don't think I can stay here, not—not for long, anyway." Her facial expression falls, and she dips her head forward in what Y\n recognizes as discouragement. 

"Oh..."

"You can...come with me, if you want?" She can tell that Sally seems perfectly happy here, but it doesn't quite sit well with her that she's still in a place with multiple people that could have, and likely did, do very bad and illegal things before. "My grandparents would be happy to give you a place to stay."

Sally flashes her a look of mild disbelief, green eyes widening slightly before she shakes her head. "I'm not leaving. This is my home."

"Are you sure?" She nods in response. 

"And...and I don't think you should leave, either. I think you'd like it here if you gave it a chance."

"Sally...I don't belong here." Her voice lowers as she speaks, looking down and into the young girl's wide eyes. "I have a family back home, important people that I need to go back to."

"We all had a family at some point." She lowers her gaze to the floor, her tone becoming sheepish. "But...that was a long time ago." Y\n tilts her head. She knew that the people living here had to have some kind of backstories, though she never gave it much thought. Just how tragic is everyone that lives here? What happened to them to turn them into these...sadistic-looking things that likely have a natural lust for blood? "And now all we have is each other. We're our own family."

Not sure what to say, Y\n shifts a little on the edge of the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting the inside of her cheek. 

"The monster wants something from all of us. It wants you, too." She nibbles at her bottom lip. "If you stayed with us, you'd be safe. It can't get you here." Taking a small step forward, she avoids eye-contact shyly and squeezes the stuffed bear tighter to her chest. "And you could be part of our family."

Y\n parts her lips to respond, though before she gets a chance, Wisteria peeks her head through the door, eyes landing on Sally then over to the girl still sat on the bed currently conversing with her. She meets her mild glare, expression hardening at the intense look being thrown her way. "Sally, c'mon. We're leaving." 

She glances behind toward the blonde standing in the doorframe, then back at Y\n, her face lighting up slightly as a friendly smile spreads across her cheeks. "Yeah! You're gonna meet Brian. Don't worry—he isn't so crabby once you get to know him."

"Yes, he is," Wisteria says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Sally shakes her head, taking Y\n's hand somewhat hesitantly and beginning to drag her toward the door. Y\n complies reluctantly, walking slowly behind the small-framed brunette. 

"Not to me! He's only like that to you cause you're annoying." She scoffs and turns, disappearing from sight and heading outside. Sally glimpses up at Y\n as they begin to stride down the hallway. "He's nice, don't worry. He's just wary around new people."

Sounds like this 'Brian' dude isn't going to be too easy to get along with. Not that she's intending to try and 'get along' with anyone here, though it would be in her best interest to not make the people residing in this area hate her. As far as she's heard, they're not aiming to cause her any harm, but better safe than sorry, right? The last thing she'd want is to make one of them mad, especially the one with a smile carved in his face and an intimidating knife in the pocket of his hoodie. 

They soon step into the living room, Sally momentarily releasing her hold on Y\n's hand as she swiftly catches up with Wisteria, who is walking off the porch and glancing around, as if checking the surroundings for possible dangers. Y\n slows her pace when she gets in front of Jack, meeting his oozing, soulless pits attentively. "There are no more dogs, right?"

He curtly shakes his head. "Brian isn't big on dogs. Smile's the only one here." He shoves his hands into his pockets, noticing the look of disdain on her features and attempting to bring her a sense of reassurance. "I'll be over in a couple of days to check on your bite. Until then, medicate and dress it each night before you go to bed. He should have plenty of resources to work with."

"That's comforting," she mutters, briefly averting her eyes down to her bandaged ankle, partly hidden by her shoes but still in clear sight if one were to look closely enough. 

"I know you don't want to be here. I get it. But if you want your grandparents to be safe, you'll have to stay put, or get out and get them killed and possibly yourself, too." His voice has a solemn sound to it, his deep tone contributing to the daunting factor.

"Y\n, come one!" Sally calls from outside, drawing Y\n's attention and making her release a defeated huff. 

"I'll see you, I guess," she says quietly, gaze falling to the ground before following the two girls, Sally taking hold of her hand once again when she steps onto the ground. The very same ground that she had run across just an hour prior in a rushed attempt to escape, and could have succeeded had it not been for Jeff and his stupid dog. Merely thinking about the series of unfortunate events, she's unable to stop from glancing down at the bandaged area in which Smile chomped down upon in order to catch and bring her back here, where exactly 'here' is, she still hasn't figured out. In the middle of a forest, obviously, but in the middle of what forest? Where is she at? What state, what area is she in?

Wisteria takes a sharp turn left, beginning to stroll in-between the tall trees, some skinny and some quite large, and Sally follows suit, dragging behind a nervous and mildly resistant Y\n by her hand. After a moment, she hears a soft click from the house, signifying that Jack closed the door and is likely in the process of forgetting about her and her miserable situation. 

Figures. "So...do you not like dogs?" The question takes Y\n a little off-guard, and she meets the curious eyes of the curly-haired girl walking in front of her, still clinging to her hand gently.

"Um...well, I never really minded them, but...that was before one of them John Cena'd me earlier so now, I'm not so sure." She shrugs, and Sally grows a knowing look on her face. 

"Are you talking about Smile?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm talking about Smile." She inwardly winces as her left foot lands inside of a shallow hole, stumbling slightly and having to take a moment to gather her bearings. She hopes that they don't have to walk too much farther before they come upon Brian's house, not that she's looking forward to meeting another freak, but because if she has to stand on her leg all day then it's going to be throbbing very badly. 

"Smile's usually a really sweet dog. He may just not like you."

"Yeah, cause his owner is a huge jerk."

"You mean Jeff? Yeah, he's kinda mean." 

What a shocker. 

"A couple days ago he replaced the sugar with salt and it tasted terrible on my Rice Krispies." She makes a moderately disgusted face, scrunching up her nose and reliving the memory. Y\n furrows her eyebrows.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Wisteria made him leave and threw my Barbie doll at his head..." The image of Jeff having some kid's Barbie being yeeted at his face and hitting him in the eye or some other important area almost has her smiling bitterly, eyes shifting down to her ankle once more and reminding her how much pain he just recently caused her, unnecessarily. 

"What was...Jeff, doing at your house?" 

"He was over to return something that he borrowed before," Wisteria suddenly speaks from ahead of them, not looking back and continuing to walk through the expansion of woods. "There's no way I'd allow him to come otherwise. And for the record, that Barbie doll was a piece of trash anyway. I was just putting it in the garbage where it belonged."

Y\n snorts quietly at that comment, not expecting the sudden insult toward someone who isn't even currently present though definitely not disagreeing. Through her brief encounter with the blue-eyed male, he did not seem like a favorable person by any standards, and as much as she'd hate to admit it, he is frightening and she wouldn't want to cross him. He's a big dude and there's no way she'd stand a chance against him, especially not with her leg the way it is.

"Well...we're here." Y\n looks up and sees yet another house, this one also shrouded with plants and vines likely to obscure its appearance from anyone who may stumble across it, assuming they actually didn't get caught by the psychopaths that live here and made it out alive, oblivious to their existence. It isn't very big, the paint is chipped and faded, and there's a barbed-wire fence surrounding the outside of it. 

Sally grins up at Y\n excitedly. "Welcome to Brian's house!"

[aloysiavirgata]

The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Title:  The Way That Light Attaches To A Girl

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: PG (language)

Timeline: Season 1

Summary:  Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor.

Author’s Notes:  Mulder reads Cicero and finds the method of loci tool useful in honing an eidetic memory. Also, the timeline of this show is absurd. Per canon, the Pilot is in March of 1992. But here it’s March of 1993 because...I just can’t, honestly. Thank you to @perplexistan for reminding me that I wrote this in 2013, and talking me through the timeline.

*** It's been a long December and there's reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself To hold on to these moments as they pass - Counting Crows *** It’s gritty outside, gritty and gray with a rime of salt on everything. There are pockets of rotten snow for him to kick, slushy and satisfying against his heavy shoes. He pulls his coat tighter, feeling like a hard-boiled detective in a pulp paperback, thinking this would be a good time for a cigarette if he still smoked. His divorce papers were filed this time last year, just like his parents’ had been a couple decades back. The ink had scarcely been dry on the marriage certificate when they realized they didn’t know each other and changed their minds. It was the same time Diana left him and his - their - files for whatever the fuck had summoned her across the sea. Paperwork, as ever in his life, was all that remained of these experiences. If this were really a detective story, he thinks, stepping over a soggy Washington Post, a tall cool blonde would have walked in through the frozen mist and into his arms. Someone lithe, with red lipstick and half-lidded violet eyes. She would look like Veronica Lake and speak in a low, compelling voice, urging him to do brave and outlandish things to thwart the Nazis. He’d wear a fedora, buy a mink stole for the blonde. They’d drink martinis and make love in dark hotels smelling of leather and intrigue. But he’s not living in a dime-store novel, he’s living in Alexandria on Christmas Eve 1993 (“The New Age of Angels,” claimed Time magazine, somewhat cryptically) and is eager to turn the last page in his calendar. Mulder knows it’s symbolic only, that his Eurocentrism is showing, but he still watches the ball drop on TV. Last year he’d kissed a woman in a bar and gone home with her too, but doesn’t think he’d remember her face if he saw it. He hasn’t got the energy to entice a stranger this year, and Scully’s hardly his type. He shouldn’t be sleeping with coworkers anyway, it’s never worth the trouble and the FBI is full of people who are paid to do nothing but sniff out secrets. Besides, he is now 32 years old which is really about time to start getting your shit together even if your baby sister was abducted by aliens at Thanksgiving. Mulder generally holds the holidays in low regard. He pauses to watch a small flock of cats at an upended trash can, feasting upon pungent things like battlefield ravens. One of the cats glances at him sidelong, narrowing round yellow eyes as though Mulder has designs on the gray thing it’s gnawing at. He holds his hands up to show the cats he wishes them no harm, keeps walking. Scully had offered to drive him home but he thanked her and caught the blue line, the clank and rattle of the train making him feel like some variety of normal businessman. Maybe people thought he was a banker or a Congressional staffer, going home to a twinkling Douglas fir and a mantle hung with stockings. Nine months and a broken condom can, in many circumstances, result in a whole new person. But it’s been nine months with Scully and she’s still her own woman, though Christ knows Mulder’s tried to remake her in his own image. She’s trudged alongside him through graveyards, military bases, bad diners, and one memorable night in Pennsylvania where she had captured a frantic bat in the hotel lobby. (“Do you want to wait for it to take human form before I release it?” she’d asked drily.) Through all of it she remained disbelieving and supercilious, leaving him vexed. She’d chirped “Merry Christmas, Mulder” at him, assuming that he celebrated Christmas and was capable of merriment. He was afraid Scully’d bring in a little Charlie Brown tree for the office, ornaments smooth and shining as her earnest face. She is skeptical in all the wrong ways and probably has the Michael Bolton Christmas album on her stereo at this very moment. She probably has eggnog in the fridge and will drink it without rum. She probably likes fruitcake and ham with pineapple rings on it. Mulder, going home to the shadows of his apartment where he might listen to Pink Floyd and nurse his resentment with three fingers of whiskey, feels justified in his scorn. A couple loaded with gifts pushes past him and he nearly loses his balance on a patch of black ice, clutches at a lamp post. He gazes up at the endless sky as snow begins to fall again. (Scully’s probably delighted by the prospect of a white Christmas, probably whistling a few bars of the song as she puts on a green sweater.) But he’s being unfair, isn’t he? For all her tattling back to the higher ups, she’s never tried to present herself as an angel. Her primary fault is in not being Diana, not being a tall dark moon goddess. Being pretty rather than beautiful, being frank rather than alluring. He’s seen her smoking a couple of times, discovered that she says “Jesus!” a lot so that she doesn’t say “fuck” or “shit.” This amuses him; he thought the blasphemy would be worse. He knows Scully watches what she eats but turns to carbohydrates and wine in times of stress. He found out she was sleeping with that asshole Jack Willis, which really threw him for a loop because Scully has a schoolteacherish quality that led him to presume premarital abstinence. He thinks of her in that first motel room, her smooth back beneath his hands, her panic turning on some masculine caveman switch. It’s been a long year, perhaps she could be his type after all despite her sensible underwear. She’s attractive enough if you like that sort of Hibernian look. He can tell she’s a bit awed by him and he could manipulate that to his advantage. Mulder walks the last slushy block thinking impious thoughts about Catholic school uniforms and playing doctor. The honeycomb tile of his building is muddied, layered with fragments of leaves and footprints. A radio blares something about Barbra Streisand doing her first live concert in twenty years. Mulder shakes his head and imagines his mother on the Vineyard, frothing with excitement. “Merry Christmas Agent Mulder,” says Leo, the maintenance guy. Leo’s got some kind of intellectual disability that Mulder hasn’t bothered to diagnose, but he’s always quick to replace a kicked-in lock or a shot-out window, and Mulder therefore regards him as a master craftsman. He gives Leo money every year at Christmas. At present he’s attacking the hallway sludge with an ancient mop. “Merry Christmas, Leo.” He gets his mail, sorting through it as he ambles to the elevator. Bill; bill; Playboy; Christmas cards from his doctor, dentist, and insurance agent; coupons; a thick manila envelope from the divorce attorney. Mulder rolls it all into a bundle and shoves it under his arm. He’s fumbling with his keys when the elevator deposits him on the fourth floor. There are wreaths on most of the doors in his building, a handful of mezuzas. Number 42, as usual, conforms to no given standard. He stops when he sees Scully leaning against his door. “Um,” he says. “Hey.” She waves her fingertips, looking uncomfortable. She’s holding a cardboard FedEx envelope. “I forgot to give you this before you left.” “Okay,” he says, uncertain about the idea of Scully on his turf. “Hang on a sec.” He makes sure the packet from the lawyer is hidden, though she’s probably heard the whole story. He knows what the talk is. They all act like he’s John fucking Douglas, like he can guess what number they’re thinking of based on how they part their hair. He’s a sideshow act, the guy who can think like John Roche and Monty Props. A freak. Scully turns to slouch against the wall while he jiggles the latest lock open, wishing there were a convenient place to stash a can of WD-40. “So, uh, come on in, I guess.” She turns, walks under his arm as he hold the door open, and stands in the entryway. The door clicks shut behind him, a final sound. Mulder puts his mail on the kitchen counter, tossing his coat over it. “You want anything to drink?” he calls to her, unsure if he can make good on the offer. What the hell does Scully drink? Tea? Zima? He’s got a few beers in the fridge, his wife’s wine is long finished. “No, I’m good.” Her coat’s draped over her arm when he comes back out, and he hangs it up for her. He notices that she’s wearing jeans with a navy cable-knit sweater, no tartan in sight. Her boots are dark and practical. Mulder shrugs off his jacket, loosens his tie out of its regulation noose. “Here, sit down. There’s, uh, the couch is right over there.” His couch is the atramentous green of algae, appearing black in the close room. “So what’s up?” She holds out the folder to him. “I realized I had this when I got home and since it’s a three day weekend, I wanted to make sure you had it. I thought it might be important.” Scully sits down close to the edge of the couch, much of her weight on her knees. She presses her hands together between them after Mulder takes the envelope, bouncing a little bit. He looks at the return address and groans. Arlinsky, that idiot from the Smithsonian. Mulder’s got enough credibility issues without this nutcase on his tail. He tosses the envelope on his cluttered desk for later perusal. Scully, as the messenger, looks apologetic. “Bad news?” He sits next to her, why not? “Nah, just…you know. The usual.” “Ah.” He watches her do a quick scan of his apartment. He has nothing to be ashamed of, she can look around. Mulder removes his tie completely now, untucks his shirt and leans into the corner of his couch. “So I’m surprised you’re here, Scully. I got the impression Christmas was a…thing. For your family.” He waves his hand vaguely, as though families are something he read about in a Margaret Mead article but never fully understood. Something closes in Scully’s face, which intrigues him. Discomfort usually comes with a good story, but he’ll tease it out of her later. She scratches her elbow, stalling. “I’m going to go by my parents’ house tomorrow.” “Not tonight? No big Scully celebration with stockings hung by the fire and cookies for Santa?” He has picked these ideas up from Oxford and Christmas music. Santa would probably prefer a cold longneck and some nachos. “My sister’s coming in tomorrow, she’s staying with my parents so they’re getting everything ready tonight. My younger brother and his family too, they’re getting in late.” Scully looks faintly guilty for this wealth of relatives. Which one of them are you avoiding, Dana? “Fun,” he says in a tone that he hopes is not sarcastic. Scully shrugs, picks at the cuff of her sweater. “Yeah, it’ll be good. I’ll get to see my niece and nephew. What about you? What are you doing?” “Oh, just…you know. Laying low.” He’s meeting up with the Gunmen for Chinese food and bootleg video games from some Japanese guy they know, but he’s not ready to tell Scully about them. In part because she might want to meet them and would end up charging Frohike with a sex crime. “Sounds good,” she says in a non-judgmental tone. “I could use some down time myself.” “Job wearing on you?” Going to wimp out and request a transfer? She puffs a breath of air out, pushes the tip of her tongue to her top lip. “No. Well, I mean, it’s hard. We travel so much, I didn’t do that before and it’s taking some adjustment.” Mulder drapes an arm over the back of the couch, wishing he could take his pants off and order a pizza. But he wants to know more about what drives her; Diana left him wary of unknown quantities, and this is his first opportunity to peer into Scully’s head. “Yeah, I guess they mostly shipped the cadavers to you before, huh? When you were doing doctor things?” He sees a slight narrowing of her eyes at this, the implication that she’s not a doctor now. The fact that she took it as an insult means it’s a vulnerability. “Mostly.” He decides to push it, being as he has home field advantage. “How come you decided to stop practicing medicine?” Scully sits up straight, her palms on the tops of her thighs. “I didn’t realize I had.” Prickly. “Oh, sorry, no offense. I just….you left your residency to join the FBI, right?” Faker, he knows her career trajectory down to the day. “My work as a Special Agent has always revolved around my background in forensic pathology. I just felt…called to the FBI as the place to best put those skills to use.” Called, religious imagery. Interesting. Her reply had a rehearsed sound, it’s something she’s repeated numerous times. Who gives her grief about being an FBI agent? A younger brother wouldn’t, would probably look up to that. Mom or Dad, most likely, though it could be one of the older siblings. He’d put his money on Dad or big brother based on the cold formality of her words. Both men are in the military, she’d speak to that. And big brother wasn’t mentioned as being in town, so Dad it is. He throws her a bone for revealing so much. “I’ve heard nothing but commendations.” “Thanks.” The appreciation seems genuine. “So what about you, Mulder? Why….this?” Scully holds her arms out like an orchestra conductor. The gesture encompasses his desk, the groaning bookshelves and fading newspaper clippings. Area 51, Reticulans, ectoplasm, and jackalopes. “Study hard what interests you the most in the most undisciplined, irreverent and original manner possible,” he quotes. “Feynman.” Scully knows her physicists. “It’s the perfect con, really. I figured out a way to get the federal government to pay for my hobbies.” He hopes that will satisfy her, but knows better. “Why is it your hobby?” Ah, Scully. You little investigator, you. “I’m a lousy knitter.” She smiles. “Because of your sister?” He steeples his fingertips, taps them against his chin. It’s tempting to blow her off, but he considers the implications of her presence. There was no reason to bring that letter by; she could have called and he could have told her to round-file it. She’s trying to build something between them, she’s looking past his annoyance with her assignment and he’s not going to slap her hand away on Christmas Eve. “Hold that thought,” he says. Mulder goes to the kitchen for the beers and the churchkey magnet stuck to the freezer. He checks for food, but a cursory examination reveals that Scully is going to have to make do with some brews. She’s peering into the fish tank when he returns, scrutinizing the inhabitants. “I think one of your mollies is pregnant,” she says. “That spotted one.” “Yeah, they’re prolific little cannibals. Here, Scully. Have a drink.” He holds the bottle out to her when she turns, watches her hesitate for an instant before accepting. “Thanks,” she says. “Though I probably shouldn’t.” She pops the lid off when he’s done with the opener. Takes a long drink. “So,” he says, returning to his seat on the couch. “Why do I spend my time looking for ET and yetis, right?” Scully rolls the bottle between her palms. “It’s hard for me to understand why someone with your abilities chooses to use those gifts this way.” Once she rides out this dogleg, Mulder thinks, she’ll go far in the Bureau with her careful diplomacy. “When my sister was…taken, it was the first time that none of the authority figures in my life had an answer. Not my parents, my teachers, the police…no one could tell me what had happened. Years went by and there was still no solution. People stopped thinking about it, you know? They just acted like she was gone and that’s all there was to it.” “But not you.” Her voice is gentle. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was a question with an answer, even if no one wanted to delve deeper into what that answer was. I became, well, obsessed with the idea that there were all of these mysteries out there with answers that people were uncomfortable finding. So when I found the X-Files…” He glances sidelong at his partner, her nutmeg freckles and her cinnamon hair. “Isn’t that what you were doing already, though? Solving impossible cases?” He shrugs. “They weren’t impossible. They followed a pattern if you knew what to look for. But what I do now, no one wants the answer, Scully. That’s the real challenge.” “You caught Monty Props. Props, Jesus, that case is legendary! I want to understand, I do. I see what you’re saying about the challenge, it does make a kind of sense. But when I think about the people you stopped…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t get it. But she’s trying instead of dismissing him. That’s something. “That’s just it. Your reaction, it’s…look. Serial killers, they’re sexy. The public loves them. Everyone wants to be Bill Patterson or, or… Jack Crawford, right? People still read about Jack the Ripper, they practically turn these psychopaths into folk heroes. There will never be a shortage of people wanting to do what I did.” Half the beer is gone in his next swallow. Scully looks thoughtful, her thumbnail at the damp corner of the label on her bottle. “So this is like, what? Like a martyr thing? If you walk away from the limelight for this then it makes up for never knowing what happened to your sister?” She turns her head to give him a level gaze, her eyes so blue and clear they seem artificial at times. He’s been called worse than a martyr, but somehow it stings. “Martyr? That’s condescending.” “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I just, I guess it’s hard for me to understand what you hope to gain. What all this means to you in the end.” Mulder’s had enough of her analysis. “I’m not like you, I don’t crave approval.” It’s her turn to look stung. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He sighs. “Your questions aren’t unfair. It’s been a hard year.” “I heard.” There’s sympathy in her tone and he tries not to resent it. “Listen, Scully, I know you didn’t ask for this assignment and you’re doing your best with a bad hand. It’s just hard to share a career I’m passionate about with someone who pretty clearly thinks it’s a waste of time.” Scully sets her beer on the coffee table, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands cupped around her chin. Mulder props his feet up next to her bottle, patient in the silence. There are deep shadows in the room, illuminated by the ambient streetlight through the curtains, the cool blue aquarium lamp. Puddles of light leak from the kitchen, but they barely stain the rug. Scully looks like a Hitchcock girl, white and pure, untouched by the surrounding gloom. She reminds him of Ingrid Bergman or Greta Garbo, her good bones and heavy-lidded eyes. “You know,” Scully says, muffled, “Pathology’s hardly the hottest specialty in med school. It’s not really seen as a place to make a career.” “The malpractice can’t be bad though, right?” She rolls her eyes. “You spend years of your life learning to care for the living and use it to examine the dead. People have…opinions about that.” This had not occurred to him, and he says as much. Scully sits up and settles back into the couch. “And to then take that to the FBI, well…” Full circle to the truth. “Lots of grief for that?” She shrugs. “From some more than others. My dad, he – look, Mulder. I’m not saying we’re in the same place or have the same ideas or that we’re both noble misunderstood renegades. I am not trying to oversimplify anything. I’m just telling you that I know what it’s like to care deeply about something that other people don’t necessarily understand.” She looks defensive after this, takes a fierce swig of her beer. Mulder eyes her up with a new appreciation. “I guess I just figured all doctors sit on pedestals.” “If so, some of the pedestals are much higher than others. I know you don’t like me, Mulder. Or at least you don’t like our partnership. We may never be friends, I realize that. But it’s been three quarters of a year, you have to let your guard down if we’re going to work together. I want what you want, answers to these questions.” He smiles at her. A real smile, and thinks that it’s been a long time since he’s done it. “But you still think I’m spooky.” Scully smiles back. “Absolutely. And I still don’t believe in aliens. Or yetis. Or missing time or vampires or Nessie. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe there are answers.” He scratches his chin, five o’clock shadow rough on his fingertips. Maybe she’s not so bad, this gingery little doctor. “I did say I wanted a challenge.” “You did at that.” She returns her bottle to the table, then turns to face him. The aquarium provides a ghostly backlight, her hair gleaming like rubbed copper. He holds this image of Scully in his mind until it is indelible, then tucks it away to remember her by. The Rhetorica ad Herennium advises sensory encoding to aid in recall, and so he places her in the sunlit portrait gallery of his memory palace. Scully stands, crosses the room to take her coat from the rack. “I’m sorry the letter wasn’t good news.” Mulder gets up to join her. “It’s okay.” He squints when she opens the door, the hallway so bright it hurts his eyes. “Thanks for bringing it by.” “Okay, well, I’ll see you on Monday, I guess.” She seems hesitant to go. She probably feels sorry for him. “Thanks for the drink. And the company.” “Go,” he says. “You don’t want coal in your stocking for oversleeping tomorrow.” She laughs a little, then takes his hands in her small white ones. She gives them a squeeze. “This is going to be okay, Mulder.” He thinks she might be right, squeezes back. She lets go of him, walks out and turns right. He locks up behind her, her perfume still lingering on his side of the door. Diana’s not coming home. It’s time that he moved on.

[recurring-polynya]

I know I missed Renji's birthday but if you ever have time, I would absolutely love to see anything about Renji and Orihime's friendship. I always headcanon him as her no.1 weird bakery experiment supporter, but really anything would be great! They just seem like they would be each other's go-to supports and I would love to see your take on them!

Anon, I have no excuse for why this took so long! RenHime BroTP is one of my very favorite things, but I managed to draw a huge blank on this and then I went through two concepts that didn’t work before I managed to hit on one that did. (Also, I did write two other Renji & Orihime stories in the Time of Many Drabbles, one where they make a cake and one where they act out Orihime’s fanfic)

Anyway, I love the Advance Team Arc, please enjoy this Advance Team Arc story about Renji and Orihime trying to cheer Rukia up by going thrifting, ft. the all-time greatest Renji clothing item.

👖   🧥   💀

Orihime was headed outside for lunch, thinking longingly about her curry tuna fish sandwich, when a low, gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oi, Inoue. You gotta moment?”

Abarai was leaning up against the wall of the school, his eyes scanning the school yard like he was waiting for a brawl to break out. Abarai reminded Orihime a lot of a guy in a prison movie. Not the guy that masterminded the prison break, but the guy who had the whole prison figured out and knew how to get illicit goods and would help the main guy escape even though they were sort of frenemies. Orihime found him a little bit scary, but in a cool way. They probably didn’t have motorcycles in Soul Society, but if they did, Orihime would bet money that Abarai would ride one.

“Sure!” she announced eagerly, and followed in his shadow as he silently rounded the corner of the building. He moved very quietly for such a big person, unlike Ichigo and Chad, who crashed and thumped wherever they went, especially when they went somewhere together.

“I gotta problem and I’m hopin’ you’ll be able to help me out a little.” Abarai shifted his shoulders a little, obviously uncomfortable in his school uniform.

Orihime knew all about the stresses of the undercover lifestyle. Clearly, he needed someone for an inside job, someone who knew all the subtleties of living a normal human existence. Fortunately for him, Orihime had been a normal human almost her entire life. “How can I be of assistance, Lieutenant Abarai?” she barked.

Abarai blinked at her. “Er. It’s not really mission-related. I need, um, some advice, I guess.”

Orihime set her jaw and tightened her fists. “I am short on life experience, but I have read many magazines. Ask me anything.”

Abarai waved his hands. “No! No! Look, you’re friends with Rukia, right?”

“Yes!” Orihime agreed. That was an easy one.

Abarai nodded quickly, happy to have found some firm footing at last. “The thing is, she’s been taking Ichigo’s vanishing act kinda hard.”

Orihime gave a tiny nod, her fingernails digging into her palms. The truth was, there was a dull, Ichigo-sized ache in her own heart, as well. She couldn’t stop wondering where he was and what he was up to and if he was getting good hearty lunches. She imagined it must be a thousand times worse for Rukia who had come all the way from Soul Society to just to see him.

“She gets real crabby when she’s worried,” Abarai continued on, continuing to scan the grounds, presumably for lurking Rukias. “She’s been getting on me for not having enough spare clothes for my gigai. I wouldn’t usually let her boss me around like this, but I thought it would make her feel better so I told her we could go, ah, shopping.”

“Oh, that’s so nice!” cried Orihime.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a prince. But here’s the thing: Even though Captain Hitsugaya outranks me, I am technically the mission manager, which means I’m in charge of the budget, and I’d really, really like to come out in the black. Matsumoto already conned me out of a significant portion of the petty cash. I don’t think Rukia has a real good handle on human money and I sure as hell don’t. I told Rukia that we should ask one of her friends to come along and she said she’d ask you, and I just was hoping you could help me keep things, y’know, frugal, without making a big deal about it.”

Abarai looked a little sheepish even asking. Orihime remembered the size of Rukia’s house back in Soul Society, the beautiful kimono she had worn once she was no longer a criminal. Orihime knew all about having friends who had more money than you. Her resolve hardened and slammed her fist into her open palm. “A strict budget is no reason not to look your best!” she announced. “You have come to the right person, Lieutenant Abarai! I, Inoue Orihime, Thrifting Champion of Karakura, will help you out!”

Abarai’s face washed over with relief, followed very quickly by confusion. “The what champion?” he echoed.

👖   🧥   💀

“You are a saint, Orihime!” Rukia declared as they marched down the street, arm in arm, Renji trailing grumpily a few paces behind, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “A gem! I offered to borrow something from Ichigo’s father for him, but this ingrate was having none of it.”

There was some low-pitched muttering from behind them.

Orihime was trying to picture Renji in the pink, ruffled tuxedo shirt Dr. Kurosaki had worn under his lab coat the last time he set Tatsuki’s sprained ankle. “I don’t think Dr. Kurosaki’s style would be quite right for him,” she suggested diplomatically. “I… guess… he’s supposed to be a teenager?”

Rukia heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re correct, as usual.” She craned her head back over her shoulder for a moment. “You owe Orihime an ice cream for this, Lieutenant Hopeless!” She swung her head forward again with a huff. Renji shot Orihime a wink.

Orihime couldn’t quite figure out Rukia and Renji’s exact relationship. Rukia has described Renji as “her friend.” On one hand, she hadn’t said about the shinigami from Ten or Eleven. On the other, she called Renji a lot of rude names and harangued him a lot. Renji had seemed pretty concerned about Rukia when he had pulled Orihime aside that afternoon, but now he was all slouches and scrunchy eyebrows. He reminded Orihime of Ichigo.

Oh! Maybe there was something to that! Maybe Renji was being a grouch on purpose so that Rukia could yell at him and feel like she was yelling at Ichigo. Wow! That was some master-level friendship. Orihime wondered if she should be taking notes.

“Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed, pointing at a little, tucked away shop front.

“What sort of shop is this?” Rukia frowned, examining the cluttered store window.

“It’s a thrift store,” Orihime explained. “People sell old, but well-made clothes to the shop, and they resell them for much cheaper than new clothes. Sometimes you can find really neat vintage, designer things that a rich person only wore a few times and decided they didn’t want. Uryuu likes to look for really ugly things made from nice fabrics and then re-tailor them. I have to modify a lot of my clothes, too, because of-- well, you know.” She gestured vaguely at her chest.

“What a brilliant idea!” Rukia proclaimed. “That’s so practical! Renji, isn’t Orihime a genius?”

“I didn’t come up with the idea,” Orihime mumbled self-consciously.

“Maybe you should open a shop to sell off your brother’s spare kimono,” Renji suggested airily. He was definitely baiting Rukia now, Orihime could see it when she watched for it.

“I should!” Rukia declared, closing her eyes haughtily. “People would probably pay twice just because he wore them!”

Renji just snorted.

👖   🧥   💀

“How about these?” Rukia asked, holding up a pair of jeans. “They look like the kind Ichigo wears.”

Orihime pulled her head out of the rack of pants she was sorting through, and Renji’s head popped up from the next aisle. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her finger on her lips. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to make Renji feel self-conscious by talking about his body and also, she didn’t want to make it obvious how much time she’d spent looking at Kurosaki’s butt. “Those are skinny jeans. Abarai is a lot, um, more muscular? than Kurosaki-kun? He would do better with a straight leg cut, I think.” She wished Uryuu were here. She didn’t know that much about men’s clothes, but she had heard him say that once while lamenting Chad’s tragic commitment to bootleg cuts.

Apparently, Rukia had no such qualms about Renji’s positive body image. “Hear that, Thunder Thighs? This is where all those squats get you.”

If this bothered Renji, he didn’t let it show. “My thighs are majestic, Rukia. Some people enjoy a guy with a little meat on his bones, for your information.”

Rukia laughed then, a sharp, amused guffaw, almost a cackle. Orihime looked up suddenly. She was sure she’d heard Rukia laugh before, but it had been a high-pitched giggle, a girlish titter. There was a gleam in the shorter woman’s eyes, and at first, Orihime thought she was being mean to Abarai, but when she glanced at him, his eyes were twinkling and he had a slight smile on his face.

Orihime got the sudden sense that she was interrupting something, although she wasn’t sure how you could interrupt someone making fun of someone else. She ducked her head and focused on rifling through the rack of pants in front of her. “How about these?” she asked, holding up a likely candidate.

“Those look pretty worn out,” Renji frowned.

“They’re distressed, Renji,” Rukia explained pompously. “It’s human fashion. They come that way. It presents the illusion of leading a rough and tough, adventurous lifestyle, even for fancy boys like you.”

“Rukia,” Renji scolded her. “Members of the Sixth Company do not walk around with their knees on display, for anyone to see.”

Rukia snorted, and Orihime suspected they were making yet another inside joke. “How’s he gonna find out? And if he does, you can just tell him you fell down the stairs, he would definitely believe that.”

“Er, here’s another pair without any holes,” Orihime offered. “They’re black.” Uryuu also had a lot of opinions on black jeans, but she was pretty sure Renji could pull them off.

“Thank you, Inoue,” Renji said, extra-graciously, reaching over the rack to accept them.

“You better try them both on!” Rukia yelled in her bossy voice. “I demand to see the forbidden knees!”

“Whatever, you’ve seen ‘em, before,” Renji muttered, but he was still smiling.

👖   🧥   💀

“Hey, Inoue!”

Orihime ducked past a rack of sweatervests, to where Renji was contemplating a leather jacket.

“Do humans still wear stuff like this? I know they were pretty popular a few decades ago.”

“Oh, yes,” Orihime agreed. “It’s a timeless look.”

Renji looked mildly shocked, but happy.

“That’s a really nice one,” Orihime added. “You should try it on.”

Renji didn’t seem like he needed a lot of encouragement to slip it over his shoulders. “I had a roommate who had one of these,” he admitted. “They look pretty dumb over a shihakushou, but Iba has never once let looking like a moron slow him down.” He grinned. “I was jealous as hell of it.”

Orihime clapped her hands. “Oh, Abarai, it looks so good on you!” It wasn’t even an exaggeration. It was black, a classic motorcycle cut, and it fit him perfectly. Orihime amended her mental movie casting of Renji: in a jacket like that, he could definitely be the protagonist of an American motorcycle movie, flicking cigarettes into the gutter and leaving a broken-hearted girl pining after him after he got run out of town for Raising Too Much Hell.

“Is it expensive?” Renji asked, holding out the sleeve with the price tag. “I don’t know what a jacket is supposed to cost.”

“It’s a very practical wardrobe staple,” Orihime advised. “Especially this time of year. It’s just starting to be jacket weather, and this will carry you through until winter, unless we have an especially cold one.” She checked the tag. “Leather jackets aren’t cheap, but this is a very good value. If you can afford it, I think it’s worth it.”

“I think I can make it work,” Renji murmured, obviously doing a bit of mental math.

“Hey, Abarai,” Orihime said, leaning forward, and keeping her voice low.

“Eh?”

“Is it going the way you planned? Do you think we’re cheering Rukia up?”

Renji opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I think we at least took her mind off him for a bit. What do you think?”

Orihime contemplated. “She seems like she’s having a good time. I think she liked looking at your butt when you were trying on pants.” Renji raised a skeptical eyebrow. To be fair, Abarai had a very nice butt. Orihime was pretty sure she still preferred Kurosaki’s butt, but it hadn’t exactly been a trial. “On the other hand, she does yell at you a lot,” Orihime said quickly. “She’s very difficult to read.”

“Yeah, I know. It takes some practice,” Renji replied. “And she hasn’t been yelling at me. You haven’t begun to see Rukia yelling at me.” He rubbed his chin. “I think we’re doing a good job. Thanks, Inoue! I couldn’t have pulled this off on my own.”

Orihime blushed. “Oh, I haven’t really done anything!”

“I think you und--”

Orihime never found out what Renji was going to say, because Rukia came skidding into the coat aisle. She was wearing a denim vest, a feather boa, and a cowboy hat, and clutching something in her hands. “Hey! Hey, Renji! Renji, I just fou...nd…” She trailed off as her eyes scanned Abarai up and down, lingering on the leather jacket. Her mouth dropped open a little.

Orihime’s eyes darted to Renji, who looked paralyzed by this development. His hand went to his hair self-consciously, his fingers getting caught in his bandana awkwardly.

If Orihime had felt like a third wheel up until this point, she realized that sometimes bicycles can be very hard to ride if you aren’t used to them, and third wheels are helpful when you’re in danger of tipping over and crashing. “Rukia, look at the jacket Renji found! He’s being waffley! Help me convince him to get it!”

Rukia came back to herself suddenly. “It fits you perfectly, you fool! Listen to Orihime.”

“I dunno,” Renji drawled, having pulled his act together as well. “It’s kinda expensive.” He started to grab another coat off the rack. It was tweed and had elbow patches. “Might keep looking for a bit.”

“No!” Rukia commanded, and Renji’s hand reflexively dropped the hanger like he’d just touched something hot. Rukia cleared her throat self-consciously. “Speaking of things that are non-negotiable, look what I found for you!!” With a flourish, she unfurled the bundle in her hands, which happened to be a t-shirt.

At first, Orihime had no idea what she was looking at. Obviously, it was a t-shirt. If she had to guess, it had been printed by a garage band full of teens that played a lot of covers and had to bum rides to their gigs. There was a drippy looking skull and some words in English. It was objectively terrible. But in a charming way.

“I love it!” Renji shouted, with far too much enthusiasm. “I don’t read English very well, though, what does it say?”

“I don’t either,” Rukia admitted. “I think this says ‘red’, though.”

“It says ‘red pineapple,’” Orihime supplied. They had just finished the unit on fruits and vegetables in English class. She had gotten a 100 on the test.

Renji and Rukia both burst into gales of laughter.

“How much is it?” Renji wheezed. “I’ll pay a million kan for it.”

“They use yen here, you buffoon,” Rukia gasped. “It’s got an orange sticker, what does that mean?”

“That means it’s on special clearance,” Orihime explained, scanning the chart hung on the wall. “100 yen.”

“Ha, ha, that’s cheap! It’s mine!”

“You were skeptical,” Rukia lectured, wagging a finger, “But I told you, didn’t I, Renji? Orihime knows what she’s doing.”

Renji wiped a tear away from his eye. “Double ice cream for Orihime,” he agreed. “What would we do without her?”

Orihime’s face felt very hot. She waved her hands frantically. “Really, I didn’t--!”

“Also, remind me what ice cream is again.”

“You dummy!”

Orihime stopped protesting. Anyone who didn’t know what ice cream was definitely needed her help.

[yespleasefandomtrash]

of cats and curses

“I’ve only seen these cats get so excited about someone sitting outside a pet store with one other person in my entire life,” a warm and almost suffocatingly kind voice said, snapping Catra out of her thoughts. “And he had that same disgruntled expression that you do. Poor kitties try to make friends with the very people who don’t want to be made friends with.”

(Catradora meets Kyoru. As you might expect, chaos ensues.)

~*~

Catra had been more than willing to let Adora do most of the talking. She was normally more eager to learn about the new planets they were exploring, but that day… Ugh. She really wasn’t sure what was making her mood so foul. Or she couldn’t pinpoint a singular cause, anyways. It was probably some God-awful combination of the pittering drizzle of rain falling from the gray sky around her, the fact that the miserable planet ‘Earth’ she was on seemed to have no traces of magic whatsoever, and the immediate reality that Adora was no longer by her side. Which was the main downfall of Adora doing all of the talking - Catra was left behind. At her own request, of course, so she could only blame herself, but still. She wanted to stew in her misery for a bit.

This ‘Earth’ was their last stop before they’d be flying back to Bright Moon. Catra never thought she’d be relieved to be returning there, but times had changed, she supposed. During their numerous quests to restore magic to the universe, day-trips and monthly adventures alike, they’d come to learn that some planets had never had magic in the first place. Even rarer, select places did not want magic returned to their world. In other words, the Best Friend Squad - she still didn’t know how she felt about that name - had taken to asking around amongst the locals to first determine the magic status of planets before they actually began the restoration process.

So now Adora was schmoozing with the locals - probably badly, because her acting skills left much to be desired - in some place called a pet store, while Catra sat on an uncomfortable metal bench outside while silently wishing she had an umbrella. She could raise her bag above her head, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t do much. Also it had their communications pads in it, and she figured unduly exposing them to freezing rain was not a good thing.

Ugh. She should have sucked it up and gone inside with Adora.

Catra yelped as the bracelet projecting her holographic disguise suddenly shocked her, and she lifted her wrist to figure out why, exactly, it had done that. She couldn’t see anything wrong with it… Uh oh. Maybe it wasn’t waterproof. She probably should have asked Entrapta about that.

Oops. Too late?

Even more annoying than her bracelet that was now randomly spazzing out were the stupid cats in the pet store behind her that kept clamoring and scratching on the glass! Sure, she was grateful for that wall of glass because it stopped them from physically getting to her, but it was nowhere close to soundproof, meaning their yowls were barely dulled down. And most of the cats were just saying hello, but she didn’t want to turn around and acknowledge that, because she was pretty sure most people on Earth could not understand animals. She didn’t care that there was no else around - she wasn’t taking any chances. Which just meant the cats would think she was rude, but she’d rather live with that than become Earth’s resident crazy cat lady by striking up a conversation with the Siamese or the Persians in a pet store.

Huh. Could the cats see through Entrapta’s disguise? Surely not. Catra tapped her bracelet to make sure the hologram was still active, wincing as another jolt of electricity shot through her arm. Definitely still active. So maybe the cats could just… feel that she was like them. A gut instinct. Or something.

Really, there was no use thinking about it. Where the hell was Adora?

“I’ve only seen these cats get so excited about someone sitting outside a pet store with one other person, in my entire life,” a warm and almost suffocatingly kind voice said, snapping Catra out of her thoughts. “And he had that same disgruntled expression that you do. Poor kitties try to make friends with the very people who don’t want to be made friends with.”

Catra looked up to see a brown-haired girl standing in front of her, a bright smile on her face and a navy blue umbrella in her hand. She appeared way too cheerful for someone walking outside in a minor rainstorm. Catra also vaguely recognized that the language the girl was speaking was not one she understood, but Entrapta’s translator appeared to be doing the trick. Now hopefully it would continue to work in reverse.

“Ah… yeah,” she finally managed to say. “Cats… like me. Too much.”

The girl laughed. “You sound so much like Kyo!” She offered Catra her hand. “My name is Tohru. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss…?”

Catra scrambled to remember her cover name that they’d hastily made up when they learned ‘Catra’ was not a normal name on Earth. “I - uh, I’m Catrina,” she said, shaking the girl’s hand, though she remained on the bench. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“So what has you sitting outside in the rain?” the girl - Tohru - asked curiously, giving her a look of concern. “Are you okay? Do you need a place to stay for the night?”

Catra fought to ignore the cats still meowing behind her. Their chant had shifted to a collective FEED ME, which she obviously couldn’t do because she was not inside, but apparently they hadn’t figured that out yet. “No, I’m - I’m fine,” she stammered, wincing halfway through her sentence as Entrapta’s disguise-bracelet suddenly shocked her again. Ouch. “Just waiting for someone.”

Tohru frowned. “In the rain? Without any cover?” She immediately thrust her umbrella in Catra’s direction. “Take this, Miss Catrina. I only live about five minutes away up the road, and I feel you are in far more need of it than I.”

And now the light on Entrapta’s bracelet was flickering on and off. Ugh, that couldn’t be good. Catra did not want to accidentally give this random and kind of annoyingly nice girl a heart attack by suddenly looking… er, not like a human. “No, I’m really fine,” she insisted, jumping to her feet. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Tohru’s frown deepened. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get hypothermia, miss.”

Catra instinctively covered her bracelet with her free hand when she noticed sparks flying off of it in her peripheral vision. “I’m sure,” she said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “In fact, I should probably -” She cut herself off with a yelp as lightning flashed and a loud crack of thunder boomed through the air, sudden enough to make the fur on her tail stand on end as she violently reached up to cover her ears, shoulders hunching over in the process.

Apparently the sudden motion was too much for the barely-functioning bracelet to take, the bracelet that was admittedly already worse for the wear after she’d had an encounter with some kind of slime monster on a planet called Tamaran, as it snapped off her wrist before falling to the ground, now broken in half. And with that, her disguise vanished.

Catra had never bit her tongue so hard to avoid letting out a string of frustrated curses. She was pretty sure it was bleeding now.

The girl’s - no, Tohru’s, she had a name - eyes widened as she watched the series of unfortunate events unfold. “You’re… you have cat… ears? A tail?”

Dammit. Now she was going to have to hear an annoying lecture from Sparkles and probably Arrow Boy about jeopardizing the mission, though she really didn’t think this was her fault. “Uh…” Catra said, frantically trying to come up with an excuse, “would you believe me if I told you this was an elaborate costu-”

“Are you cursed, too?” Tohru interrupted, kneeling down to pick up the pieces of the bracelet from the ground. “I mean, your transformation is not quite like the Sohma’s, but I suppose it would be rash of me to presume the zodiac curse is the only one to exist in the world, wouldn’t it? Perhaps there is something else -”

Catra sneezed, accidentally cutting her off. Which she mildly regretted, because she had no freaking clue what the girl was going on about. A curse? So-ma? The hell was going on with this planet?

And most importantly, where on Earth was Adora?

“Oh my goodness, you’re freezing!” Tohru exclaimed, horrified, as she stood up. “I am so sorry, I was being incredibly inconsiderate! You poor thing, you’re not even dressed for rainy weather!”

Now that she mentioned it, Catra realized that she was shivering. Ugh. Stupid fur. It was so hard to warm up after it got wet.

“Let’s go to Shigure’s house,” Tohru said, taking Catra’s hand and pulling her away towards a dirt path, doing her best to hold her umbrella over the both of them. “We can warm you up, get you a towel and a change of clothes, and I’ll do my best to help you repair your bracelet, though it’s not similar to Kyo’s at all so I don’t know if I’ll be much use. While we do that you can explain the details of your curse to me! But only if you’re okay with talking about it, of course.” She shook her head, a mixture of shock and curiosity in her eyes. “I wonder if Kyo and Yuki were aware that other families could have a curse similar to the zodiac?”

Catra still had no idea what all this curse nonsense was, but she was both surprised and grateful that the girl hadn’t freaked out and run away upon seeing her… er, true form, as it were. However, the main problem was that she was currently being taken away from Adora, which was stressful because Catra needed Adora and also because Adora would undoubtedly freak out the moment she realized Catra was missing and cause havoc by turning into She-Ra or something. “Actually, I kind of have to stay here -”

“I promise, there’s no need to be nervous!” Tohru reassured her, and her voice was so gentle and sincere that Catra found herself struggling to not believe her. “If you stay here, someone might run into you who won’t understand what’s going on. They could even try to hurt you! I promise that I’m taking you to a safe place where there are people… where there are people struggling with a - a similar issue to what you have.”

Catra seriously doubted that. She was pretty sure that Earth had never had successful contact with other planets, meaning the chances of there being Etherians in this girl’s house were almost zero, much less Etherians like her. Still, the thought of going somewhere warm and dry with this pseudo-Perfuma who hadn’t lost her shit upon seeing that Catra was definitely not human was… well, rather appealing.

But Adora. Adora. She at least needed to let her know where she was going.

“When we… er, get to wherever you’re taking me, can I… send a message to the person I was waiting for?” Wow. She sounded so timid it was downright mortifying. “Just to let her know where I am.”

“Of course!” Tohru said as they turned a corner on the dirt pathway. “Your friend is absolutely welcome to join us. Is she cursed, too?”

Was She-Ra considered a curse? It sure felt that way sometimes. But Catra was still completely lost on what the whole ‘curse’ thing was, especially how it related to her being part cat. “Er, I don’t think so -” And she promptly cut herself off with another sneeze. Ugh. She was going to catch a cold.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there!” Tohru said, pulling her slightly faster. True to her word, Catra could see a warmly lit house at the end of the road. “I’m so sorry we have to walk through the rain like this. But I’m going to make you some hot tea and give you a fluffy blanket and turn up the heat and just whatever you need to warm up and get comfortable, okay?”

And the girl did exactly that. She gave Catra a towel to dry off with as well as a set of clean clothing to change into before she practically swaddled her with a blanket and placed a steaming mug of tea on the low table in front of her. Really, her personality was the absolute epitome of Scorpia and Perfuma combined. Catra had also made sure to send Adora a message about her location while Tohru had been preparing everything, or else she knew she’d forget to do it entirely.

“Is everything okay? Would you like something to eat? There’s not a lot in the fridge, but I’m sure I can whip something up pretty quickly -”

“No, no, everything is fine,” Catra interrupted, still feeling kind of awkward around Tohru but also still relieved that the girl hadn’t - hadn’t fainted or anything. “I’m almost back to normal, uh, body-warmth already.” Ugh, that was horrendously phrased. Oh well. C’est la vie, or whatever Sparkles had taken to saying after visiting Flance. Finance? She really didn’t know what the country was called. Regardless, the girl either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared.

Tohru nodded, kneeling down on the side of the table opposite Catra. She placed Entrapta’s bracelet - or the pieces of it - down in front of her. “I was hoping I could repair this for you, but it’s not the same… er, anti-curse material that I’ve seen before. It seems to be technologically-based, and unfortunately I’m terrible with tech. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more help!”

Right. The ‘curse’. “Don’t worry about it,” Catra said, waving her hand dismissively. “I have a friend who can fix it.”

Tohru didn’t appear satisfied by her reassurance. “Are you certain? I can ask the person I know who’s in - who’s kind of… like you, so to speak, if he’ll take a look at it and see if he -”

Catra held up a hand to silence the girl, ears twitching. She could have sworn she heard footsteps from above them. “Tohru…” Weird. She was pretty sure that was the first time she’d addressed the girl by name. “Are we the only ones here right now?”

Tohru frowned. “I - I believe so. Why?”

Catra’s ears craned to catch the sound. The footsteps - they’d moved. Moved towards… “Because someone is about to come down those stairs,” she growled, lowering her voice to a whisper as she untangled herself from the blanket and vaulted across the table to land in front of Tohru, claws bared. “Stay behind me.”

“Okay,” Tohru squeaked, and Catra wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of the thought of an intruder or of Catra herself. Hopefully not the latter.

A tall boy with carrot-orange hair arrived at the foot of the stairs. “Tohru, are you bac-”

Catra’s tail flicked, and she launched herself at the boy. Damn, she couldn’t believe only a few months at Bright Moon - and numerous sessions with Perfuma - had turned her into someone who’d defend a stranger at a moment’s notice. Though she supposed Tohru wasn’t quite a stranger at this point.

Catra easily tackled the guy to the floor, her forearm lying across his throat with hopefully just enough pressure to keep him pinned down without her having to get on top of him. Her other hand loomed in a threatening manner above his face, claws still out. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Miss Catrina, wait -” Tohru started to protest frantically, but she was soon cut off.

“What the hell?!” the guy snapped. “I could ask the same about you!” In the blink of an eye, he flipped Catra over his head with expertise she found begrudgingly impressive even as her back was slammed painfully onto the ground.

Shit. Now he had her in the same position she’d used on him. But damn, that was a good move on his part.

“So who the hell are you?” he growled, and Catra felt a chill run down her spine because she’d only heard that type of guttural noise twice before in her life - from Melog, and from… herself. “And why the fuck are you in our house?” She noticed the way his pupils had thinned in an… almost catlike manner. And - And it looked like he had fangs? Plus, now that her mind had set sail on that boat, she realized he smelled like a cat, too, in the way only another cat or, er, cat-person would know.

Oh, this was so weird. She never wanted to come back to this planet.

“Kyo, please stop!”

“Did she hurt you, Tohru?”

“No! She’s - She’s a friend! Sort of. She’s very nice, and she was just trying to protect me because I didn’t know you were home already, and - and I think she might be cursed, too!”

“What?” The boy - Kyo? - looked down at Catra, as if taking in her… well, unusual appearance - by this planet’s standards, at least - for the first time. The pressure against her neck lessened. “She’s… Wait.” He turned to look at Tohru, though he noticeably did not remove his arm from her neck entirely. “You’re telling me that the zodiacs aren’t the only -”

He was interrupted by the sliding door to the home being slammed open, with a familiar panicked voice filtering in. “Catra, are you -”

Crap. Adora, whom she loved with her entire being, always managed to have the worst timing.

Adora’s eyes widened as she took in the situation, then narrowed with a burning intensity Catra had only seen a few times before. Her girlfriend began to glow with a blue aura, her eyes shining with that same blinding light, though thankfully she stopped short of fully transforming into She-Ra. Glowing was easier to pass off as a trick of the light compared to suddenly growing three and a half feet taller, at least according to Glimmer. Catra was inclined to agree.

Adora’s protective nature was undeniably attractive, but Catra really didn’t want her girlfriend to have some poor guy’s murder on her conscience once everything got straightened out. “Adora, wait -”

“Get your hands off of her!” Adora snapped, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and slamming him against the wall.

The anxiety written all over Tohru’s face as she rushed over to the boy’s side indicated to Catra that there was clearly a massive misunderstanding going on. She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Adora, stop -”

At the sound of Catra’s voice, Adora immediately dropped to her side, blue light fading as she pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, burying her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Catra, don’t you dare run off on a strange planet ever again.”

The fear in Adora’s voice chillingly reminded her of their time on Horde Prime’s ship, and she had to blink back tears as she returned the hug. “Okay. I promise.”

Those words seemed to do the trick, as Adora relaxed before gently releasing her from the hug, pulling back to frantically look over her. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Do I need to -”

“I’m fine,” Catra interrupted, grabbing her girlfriend’s hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Honest.”

Her insistence didn’t stop Adora from standing up and turning around with a lethal look in her eyes, her gaze narrowing as she focused on the boy, who had just managed to sit up with the help of Tohru and was now grimacing as he rubbed the back of his head. “What the hell were you doing with your hands on my girlfriend?!”

The boy glared at her in response, similarly getting to his feet as he did so, though noticeably more unbalanced than Adora had been. “Your girlfriend attacked me! I was trying to defend myself and protect Tohru!”

“So your idea of self-defense is to have her in a position that could be fatal? Sorry, but I have my doubts.”

“I have self-restraint, you dumbass! What the hell would I have to gain from killing her?!”

“Oh, sure, you say that now -”

“Enough!” Tohru shouted, jumping in front of the boy with her arms out and startling Adora to the point where she actually took a step back. Catra noticed that the girl was trembling, but she stood her ground. “Please. Stop arguing. Don’t - Don’t hurt him.”

Oh.

Oh.

The way her voice wavered. The way she’d immediately rushed to his side. The way she was clearly terrified but had still thrown herself in front of the boy to protect him. Hell, the way the boy had demanded to know if she had hurt Tohru before he’d even thought about himself.

There was something between them. Maybe they weren’t together, but Catra suspected it was only a matter of time.

Tohru took a deep breath, her body still visibly shaking. “I think there is a misunderstanding going on here, and that we all need to - to calm down for a moment. And talk.”

Catra nodded as she stood up, her hip slightly sore from the awkward angle that she’d been flipped onto the ground earlier. “Tohru’s right.” She slipped her hand back into Adora’s. “I did lash out first, because I thought Carrot Boy over there had broken into Tohru’s house, and even though we’d just met, Tohru had been really nice to me and I didn’t want her to get hurt. So I was just… trying to protect her.” Adora sent her a look that said I am so proud of you, which Catra pointedly ignored. “But that might have been a teeny bit of a hasty assumption for me.”

“Yeah, it was,” the guy snapped, though his expression softened slightly as Tohru placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a worried look. “Listen. I live here, too, okay?”

Catra winced. “Er… Sorry?”

The boy didn’t respond, simply crossing his arms over his chest. He still smelled like a cat to her. Were there pets in this house somewhere that Catra couldn’t see?

“And we of course accept your apology,” Tohru said kindly, clasping her hands together. “Now, why don’t we properly introduce ourselves before we try to figure out the nitty-gritty details of what’s going on? My name is - ahh!” As she was stepping forward to offer her hand to Adora, her foot caught in the blanket Catra had previously been bundled up in, and she seemed to fall towards the floor in slow motion. Both Catra and Adora instinctively jumped to catch her, but the guy beat them to it, looping an arm around Tohru’s waist and pulling her backwards into his chest.

He helped stabilize her, their faces noticeably both cherry red, before giving a resigned sigh. Seconds later, he disappeared in an orange cloud of smoke, leaving a pile of clothes on the floor in his wake as well as an annoyed-looking cat the same color as the cloud sitting on top of his t-shirt.

As much as that made no sense to Catra, at least she could now conclude that he smelled like a cat and looked like a cat and acted like a cat because he… was a cat? Kind of?

“You know,” Adora said after a long pause, moving her arm to wrap around her girlfriend’s waist, “I thought this planet didn’t have any magic, but now… I’m pretty sure I was wrong.”

Catra sighed. “Great observation, babe.”

Explanations were definitely needed. On all sides.

~*~

Tohru thought the strangest day of her life would always be the first time she accidentally transformed Kyo, Yuki, and Shigure into their zodiac forms.

That day had now quite possibly been bumped down to second place.

“So you’re… from another planet?” Tohru repeated, the thought almost dizzying. “And you came to Earth to see if we - if we needed magic brought back to our world?”

Catrina - no, Catra, she chastised herself - nodded. There was a certain sympathy to her eyes. “Yes. I’m sure this is pretty overwhelming for you.”

That was putting it lightly. But Tohru shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I think I’m understanding it all now.” Though it was definitely a lot to take in. A small frown creased her lips, and she tilted her head slightly in confusion. “So then… You aren’t cursed?”

Catra snickered. “Cursed to be with this idiot, maybe,” she said teasingly, giving the blonde girl beside her - Adora - a fond look, who lightly elbowed her in response. “But no, I’m not cursed. This is my… true form, I guess.”

Tohru could feel her face pale at the girl’s words, and she didn’t miss the way Kyo flinched, either. “I see.”

There was an awkward pause, and Tohru had no idea how to break it. Normally she’d offer food or something to drink, but the two girls had already refused. Or rather, Catra had refused, much to what had looked like Adora’s silent dismay. Oh, she felt like a terrible hostess.

“So… you can transform into a giant warrior princess?” Kyo asked slowly, gesturing to Adora. “Which is why you got all glowy earlier? Like some magical girl anime?”

“I have no clue what that means, but yes. I can transform into She-Ra.” Adora gave him an apologetic smile. “And again, I’m really sorry for throwing you into the wall. I just saw you on top of Catra and completely freaked out.” She pressed a kiss to Catra’s temple, who blushed furiously at the action but made no move to get away, instead not-very-subtly scooting even closer to her. They were very cute, in Tohru’s opinion.

She noticed Kyo’s face soften as he watched their interaction. She loved that rare, gentle expression on him. “No,” he said quietly, eyes flickering over to Tohru before immediately dropping to the table. “I understand.”

Tohru could feel her face reddening at his words, brief as his glance towards her had been. If Adora and Catra noticed, they didn’t comment, for which she was silently grateful.

“Anyways,” Adora continued, “after asking around and getting stared at like a crazy person many, many times, I’d come to the conclusion that this planet was magic-free and always had been.” She pointed at Kyo. “And then you turned into a cat. Which I’ve only seen happen, like, one other time.” She glanced at Catra. “But Melog’s technically a shapeshifter, right? So it’s not the same thing.” She shook her head when Catra shrugged. “Not my point. So how did you do that, sir?”

Kyo picked at his fingernail, still not making eye contact with them. “Trust me,” he said, his voice low. “There was nothing magical about that.”

Catra raised an eyebrow, and she locked her gaze with Tohru’s. “Right. You kept talking about a curse.”

Tohru flinched, and she glanced at Kyo. “Ah, am I allowed to…?” She felt bad for mentioning it so many times earlier, but Catra had looked like a normal human and then her bracelet fell off and she’d suddenly had a dozen catlike features… she’d gotten such a chilling sense of déjà vu that a curse had felt like the most logical conclusion at the time.

Kyo sighed. “I mean, they’re from another planet. It’s not like they’re going to run into Akito. So why not?”

Tohru nodded, smoothing her skirt as she returned her attention to their guests. “A long time ago, there was a banquet hosted by God.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. The ribbon that normally held it back had fallen out amidst all the earlier chaos. “God invited 13 animals to join them at this feast. 12 attended. Eventually, all 13 animals vowed to remain by God’s side. Forever. This… bond has been recreated every generation through - through the Sohma family. If they are hugged by someone of the opposite sex, they turn into their zodiac form.” She hoped she wasn’t leaving out too much. There were just some things she wasn’t sure she should reveal.

Adora nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I think I remember George and Lance talking about the zodiac when we were getting a crash course on Earth’s culture.” She frowned, seemingly puzzled. “But I don’t remember a family curse. Or a cat.”

“You wouldn’t.” Kyo’s gaze had hardened. “The curse is a secret. And the cat isn’t a part of the zodiac. Not in the same way.” He was fingering his bracelet, and Tohru desperately wished she could give him a comforting hug. Instead, she reached out and placed a hand on his knee. She could feel him relax at her touch - only slightly, but still a victory.

Tohru hadn’t missed the way Catra’s eyes had steadfastly remained on Kyo for much of the conversation. Maybe it was… a cat thing?

“So it seems like this zodiac curse might be an exception to Earth’s ‘no magic’ rule,” Catra finally said. “If it’s magic at all.”

“Is there a way to break this curse?” Adora asked. “I have - I have these sort of healing powers, as She-Ra, so maybe… I could help?”

Tohru couldn’t stop the hope bubbling in her chest at the thought. After learning that Kyo would be - would be… imprisoned after graduation, she was willing to do anything to prevent that from happening. “Kyo, do you think -”

“No.” His tone was flat, and Tohru flinched. He noticed her reaction, and grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. I just mean…” His fist clenched. “We’re… the Sohmas aren’t the kind of broken that your magic powers, or whatever, can heal. But thanks.” He managed a half-hearted smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

There was a pause. But for perhaps the first time since they’d all been in one room together, the silence had a certain tranquility to it, rather than an awkward tension. Which Tohru considered to be a sign of improvement.

“I guess we’ll need to get going soon,” Catra finally said. “Sparkles and Arrow Boy are going to wonder where we disappeared to.”

Adora chuckled. “You mean they’re going to smother us when we get back because they’ll have been stressed out of their minds.”

Wait, they had people waiting for them?! “I’m so sorry!” Tohru exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Oh, your friends are going to be so worried about you!” She pushed her hair out of her face. “Would you like some - some food, or anything, for your trip back? I can pull something together in no time!”

Adora’s eyes lit up, but Catra beat her to it. “No, we’re fine,” she said with a small smile before shooting Adora a disapproving look. “You’ve already given us plenty of hospitality. We’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Adora appeared slightly disappointed but didn’t comment, instead standing up and pulling Catra to her feet beside her. Tohru noticed neither let go of the other’s hand. “Well, it was nice meeting you guys. And Kyo, again, I really am sorry I threw you into the wall. I hope we can move past that and be friends.”

A small smile formed on Kyo’s lips, and Tohru felt warmth blossom in her chest. “I’d say we’ve moved past it already. And for the record, your super-strength and glowy powers are pretty badass. Less so when I’m the one they���re directed at, but still cool.”

Adora laughed. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I am also sorry for attacking you because I thought you were some creep,” Catra added. “I promise not to do it again. Cats are usually pretty solitary creatures, but that doesn’t mean we have to be enemies, right?”

Kyo laughed as he stood up, and Tohru felt her own smile widen further. “Agreed. But that’s not even the first time that’s happened to me, you know. Tohru also attacked me early on when we met because she thought I was a creep. Tried to knock me out with her school bag. So don’t feel too bad. I think I just have bad luck.”

Tohru buried her face in her hands, aware she was blushing up to her ears. “Kyo!” That was one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. She still felt terrible about it.

Catra snickered. “Oh, I wish I had time to stay and hear that story.”

“It’s a good one.” Kyo then shook his head. “I’m still not sure if this day has been real or if it’s just a weird dream from Yuki decking me and giving me a concussion, but if it is real, it was… interesting to meet you guys. Weird, but in a good way.”

Catra laughed, too. “Yep, that pretty much sums it up.”

“Is there any way we can stay in contact with you guys?” Tohru blurted out. She wasn’t entirely sure what compelled her to ask, but she knew a part of her would soon need proof that she hadn’t imagined their entire encounter. Also… They were her friends now. And she liked keeping in touch with her friends.

Adora frowned, turning to look at Catra. “We have a spare communications pad, don’t we? We could give it to her and just tell Bow we lost it.”

“You mean I will tell Bow we lost it,” Catra corrected as she swung her backpack around to her front and began fishing through it. “Because you’re a terrible liar and he wouldn’t believe you for a second.”

“Exactly. You know me so well.”

Catra rolled her eyes, but Tohru didn’t miss the soft smile that formed on her lips. It was the same smile her mother used to wear when she spoke about her father.

“Aha!” Catra then exclaimed triumphantly, pulling a weirdly-shaped tablet out of her bag and handing it to Tohru. “You can use this to contact us whenever you want. Although we’ll probably have to figure out what the time difference is between Etheria and Earth.”

Tohru accepted the tablet, holding it close to her chest. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I hope your quest to restore magic to the universe continues to be successful!”

They exchanged simple goodbyes - making sure to first give Tohru a rundown on how to use the communications pad, for which she was infinitely grateful - and then they left, hand in hand.

Tohru quickly ran to stash the tablet in her bedroom before returning downstairs, walking into the kitchen to see Kyo looking through the fridge. “Would you like me to cook something?” she offered, moving next to him to see what ingredients she’d have to work with.

Kyo lightly knocked her head. “I’ll cook. You can go rest. You’ve had a stressful day.”

“You have, too!” she protested, tucking her hair behind her ears. She was not backing down on this, and she tried to show her determination by squaring her shoulders and staring him down.

She had a feeling it came off as more silly than anything else, at least based on the amused - if fond - smile Kyo gave her.

“Okay, fine. How about we cook together?” he suggested. “Is that an acceptable compromise?”

Tohru beamed at him. “That sounds wonderful!” She clasped her hands together, eyes practically sparkling in excitement.  “Oh, we can make something for Yuki and Shigure! They’ll be back soon.” Yuki had been dealing with Student Council business all afternoon, and Shigure had been at the main Sohma estate the entire day. She was certain they’d appreciate coming home to a warm dinner on the table.

Kyo rolled his eyes. “You’re way too considerate of those bastards.”

“And you are too harsh on them,” Tohru chastised, shaking her head. The movement caused her hair to fall in her face again, and she promptly pushed it right back behind her ears. Hmm. Maybe she needed to consider getting it cut?

Apparently Kyo had noticed her struggle, as he left the kitchen for a moment before returning with her ribbon. She started to thank him and reach for it, but he shook his head. “Turn around.”

Tohru blinked, then did as instructed. At first she was rather stiff, but she soon found herself relaxing as Kyo’s hands gently moved through her hair, pulling it up into a ponytail.

“There,” he said after he finished. “Now it should stop getting in your way.”

Tohru instinctively reached up to touch her hair, almost surprised by how secure it felt. “That’s amazing, Kyo! I didn’t know you knew how to do hair.”

Kyo flushed. “It’s nothing fancy. Kagura made me do her hair all the time when we were kids. I remember the basics.”

Tohru couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought of young Kyo brushing and braiding a young Kagura’s hair. “That’s so sweet.” She beamed at him. “And thank you. I love it.”

Kyo’s blush deepened, and he looked away. “Seriously. It’s no big deal.” He paused, as if something had occurred to him. “Oh. Also.” He pulled a small silver bracelet out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I found this on the table. I think one of the girls might have left it.”

Tohru’s eyes widened, recognizing the bracelet as the object that had generated Catra’s human disguise. “Oh, this is Catra’s!” she said frantically, accepting the bracelet from him. “We have to get it back to her! It’s not too late to catch up to them, is it?”

Kyo grabbed her wrist as she started to dash towards the door. “Slow down, dummy,” he said, pulling her back into the kitchen. “They’re long gone.”

He was right. She knew he was right, but - “I feel like we need to return it to her! Somehow.”

“Maybe. But surely she wouldn’t have left it if it was that important.”

Tohru hesitated, glancing down at the broken bracelet cradled in her palms. “Okay,” she finally agreed, relaxing slightly. “That does make sense.” She tucked the bracelet into the pocket of her skirt.

Maybe one day she’d be able to fix it. Maybe one day she could ask them how to fix it by contacting them through the tablet they’d given her. Maybe one day they’d even return in person to pick it up themselves.

No matter what… She would see them again. She was sure of it.

Tohru turned to Kyo, giving him a brilliant smile. “Let’s get cooking!”

~*~

“And you’re sure you’re not hurt -”

“Adora! I told you that I’m fine.” Catra rolled her eyes. “Seriously. You worry too much.”

“You’re my girlfriend. It’s my job to worry about you.” Adora sighed, her arms moving from being crossed over her chest to clutching her own shoulders as she hugged herself tightly. “That was terrifying, Catra. Walking in to see some random guy leaning angrily over you with his arm against your throat?” She shuddered. “Ugh. I’m going to have nightmares about that one.”

Catra could feel her expression softening, and she walked across their room on Mara’s ship to place her hands on Adora’s shoulders. “I’m sorry I scared you. But I promise that I’m okay. I honestly don’t think Kyo had any intention to hurt me, anyways.”

Adora’s arms fell to her sides, her hands coming to rest on Catra’s waist. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean besides the fact that he’s actually a nice person?” Catra shrugged. “I just had a feeling, I guess.” Something about the look in his eyes. Fear, panic, desperation. All overshadowed by concern. A willingness to do anything for that one person.

It had been like looking in a mirror.

She pulled Adora into a hug, burying her face into her girlfriend’s shoulder. “I love you.”

Adora didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around her in response. “I love you, too.”

They stayed like that for a while. Catra eventually lifted her head, turning to face a direction where she could see out the window, out into the infinite void of space. They’d long since flown away from Earth. But still…

Catra had a feeling they’d see them again. Tohru and Kyo.

She was sure of it.

(After all, they’d have to go pick up her bracelet one day.)

~*~

tagging the two people who said they’d be interested in reading lol: @akeera13​ and @timefrozen-waterstreams

[quixzel]

Cryptid Seer Au

Aight peoples heres my new au, be sure to read if your interested in my new au

Basics: this au surrounds dib oof

A cryptid seer is someone who has the gift of seeing cryptid to which are kinda everywhere, normal people can’t see them. But when dib was 2 years old, presumably all the seers were executed by a group who thought they were crazy so they convinced the government they would cause chaos and imbalance. Some still live but the hide away and pretend they aren’t. Dibs mom is a seer but she was executed. Because of this, membrane was devasted. When he found out dib was a seer, he ruined his vision on purpose so he won’t be able to see cryptid s. Membrane still sad about this loss, he made a DNA replica of maybelline (Dibs mom) through a hair, making it into gaz.On irk zim is a respected, famous invader who is amazing at what he does. He has the respect and support of his tallest and everyone else. Because of this, the planet irk is still in tact and so it tallest miyuki and spork (retired). But the armada and massive still exist.Earth is a planet they have wanted to conquer for centuries  so they send zim on the case. And in this au, like 25 irken years in age is 1 year  in human age.Becuase dib can’t see cryptids , he pursues real science. And gaz is self consuisus about being a replica, not an organic child and how she was created to resemble her mother, but she doesn’t (only in looks tho). Gaz did not inherit the seer gift cause membrane modified her that way (lol she ain’t a robot, she’s a child made by membrane) In this au, proffeser membrane knows cryptids exist but refuses to accept it and acts like they don’t.This au is when dib and gaz are in highschool (specifically a membrane labs private school for all them rich smart kids) where dib is popular. He also doesn’t have glasses yet but he needs them to help his vision see cryptids again. One day he looks through an old box filled with items and pictures of his mother and finds the logo of the swollen eyeball network and decides to connect with them. (maybelline is an original member) (in this au the swollen eyeball is a group of seers who are trying to make the world see that cryptids still exist and just becuase most seers are gone doesn’t mean cryptids are, they still have to stay secret tho) When dib connects with the eyeball he tells them he is the son of agent wendigo( he knows this because the picture had they names listed) ( he doesn’t know about cryptid seers yet or that his mother is one) the eyeball sends him special glasses. One day he decides to use them and freaks out in school and gets kicked out. He now goes to public school but gaz is still in private school

  He freaks out because he can now see cryptids (he has no knowelgde prior about cryptids so obvsisouly he is scared)

Now he is in public school and is seen as a freak for yelling that there’s monsters.No one belives him tho becuase all the seers are presumably dead.He contacts the swollen eyeball and asks them, begging for an explanation what the glasses have done to his vision. They explain that his mother was a cryptid seer. They explain about the swollen eyeball and his mom. He asks about the other agents that are in the picture and why they aren’t here, they explain that most seers were executed.And tell him to keep his gift secret. They let him into the swollen eyeball network and give him the name “Agent Mothman”. Now he is obssesed with learning more about cryptids so he drops real science. Zim is now preparing for his mission, nervous as ever. He can’t show any mercy tho (lmao I he is rlly badass usally, in some parts of the au he becomes rlly badass) He thinks what would happen if he failed. He would be stripped of his pak and left to die alone in shame for not conquering earth and letting them know of his existnece. When he arrives, he doesn’t know that he actually cannot be seen by the ordinary eye. But gir and all his machines can. He doesn’t require a disguise knowing that nobody can even see him but it would look pretty werid going to the store with gir so gir can get some chips. Like that would like a green dog is right next to a floating chips.Zim chose gir over the fancy robots suited for him becuase he thought gir was funny. That wouldn’t affect him in the mission too much tho. But zim made a human diguise that was actually good and allows him to be seen by the normal eye (idk irken tech is advanced ) He starts going to school so he can learn earth and it’s weaknessses. He meets dib and already has a bad feeling about him. (Also membrane ruined is vision so bad he actually always needed glasses and apparently even with zim in the disguise that lets him be seen, dib can’t see him or any other cryptids without the glasses) (like i said before the glasses are special, the fix his vision. if anyone else used the glasses it wouldn’t work. Also the glasses have a slight blue tint just because)

he thinks zim is ordinary at first but later someone pushes him and his glasses fall off. Also for some reason I wanted to be that dib has really nice eyes and looks good without glasses that’s one of the reasons he was popular back in the private school.When his glasses fall off. He looks around for it but notices that zim was in front of him seconds ago. He asks if zim is there and he says yea I’m right in front of you. Zim actually picks up his glasses for him and puts it on his face for him and dibs screams and runs to the bathroom realizing zim is a cryptid, but what? He follows zim home where he finds out he is an alien. He try’s to prove it a bunch but fails. Later in the au they sort of become friends and zim learns that some life is valuable and stuff and becomes doubtful of conquering this planet. Cause if he did then dib would loose his home and the planet.So now he kinda is under a tight position cause he doesn’t want to let the tallest down . He’s conqeruing earth veryyyyy slowly. He still wants to conquer it tho but at least keep some people alive or something.Dibs knows this but trusts that zim wont go too far. (Also tak does come in and she’s actually a fan girl of zim and she relazises that zim isn’t conqeruing the planet that well on purpose and she just wants him to return to irk. So she kinda goes crazy and says

 “ if you aren’t gonna prepare this planet for operation impending doom 2 then I will and you will have to return to irk”.tak then tries but fails and she returns home and the tallest then deem her defective for trying to interfere by letting her affections for zim get in the way (On irk affection and caring and showing weakness are kinda banned and the pak try’s to regulate to caring and affection to the tallest and the stronger invaders.this is done so they are better at what they do)

I didn’t want it to be like that zim doesn’t want to conqer it anymore but tbh zim is super good at invading and nobody can see him so dib can’t prove anything.

edit:took out the drawings sorry, too embarrassed to show anymore :p

[itsclydebitches]

[1/5] Am I the only one who doesn’t see Salem as guilty for the atrocities she’s committed? Jinn straight up said that her dip in the Grimm pools tainted her with dark magic that compels her to act on an instinct shared with the Grimm’s progenitor, the Younger Brother. If she’s being roofied with deific dark magic that fundamentally overrides her free will and fills her with a magical instinct to cause destruction, then doesn’t that absolve her of blame?

BUCKLE UP this ended up being a whole ass essay as I happily ignore my actual work

So this is admittedly a very complicated situation and I want to preface my response by saying that I agree with a great deal of this. I’m no longer able to find it because my metas/ask responses exist in a disorganized hellhole, but I said much of the same in Volume 6. Namely that the Gods are indeed the primary parties responsible for this entire mess, Salem was done dirty by them, she was (to an extent) justified in her goals, and she didn’t know that jumping into a grimm pool would turn her into a grimm queen rather than just killing her. Salem is, in many respects, a victim.

But being a victim doesn’t mean you can’t also be a perpetrator. This is the basis for most complex villains in media: we understand how they got to where they are, we feel for them, we may even think they’re correct about things like the injustice around them (insert Magneto here), but their actions are nevertheless too immoral to be supported. We get that a shit life largely outside of his control and the manipulation of Palpatine turned Anakin into Darth Vader. Doesn’t mean Darth Vader is off the hook for his crimes. We know that Jack Torrance was driven insane by supernatural forces when all he wanted was to watch over a hotel with his family. Doesn’t mean we shrug off him trying to kill his wife and child. We know that Voldemort was a product of a messed-up love potion that may have made it impossible for him to love “normally.” Doesn’t mean he’s excused for being a wizard Hitler. The humanity of villains is what draws us to them, but being a victim in the past doesn’t perpetually excuse/justify everything you do in the future. This is why all of these villains die in the end. That’s pretty much the only “good” solution we’ve found to such a complex situation. We don’t want the villain to be unforgivable because we got to see the tragedy of their downfall. At the same time, we can’t excuse the horrors they’ve committed and just welcome them back into the fold. So they die, giving the heroes the chance to mourn them without guilt and the audience the chance to enjoy that redeeming act (if the villain performs one).

That’s part of the balance that Salem is immersed in, but of course that’s not acknowledging the actual argument here: how can we blame villains for their actions when they had no control over them? Not a wishy-washy, highly subjective concept of “control” – Example: Does someone like Kylo Ren “really” have a shot at being a good person when they’ve got Palpatine in their ear? (The answer is yes. Yes he does.) – but a much more simple and objective situation: there’s magic at work that 99% of people straight up cannot fight against it. Like the RWBY equivalent of the Imperius Curse.

However, RWBY’s first mistake here is that, unlike the Imperius Curse, there is no firmly established lore surrounding the grimm pool. In Harry Potter we know that most people can’t fight off the Imperius Curse. That’s established numerous times throughout the series and that knowledge impacts the storyworld: there are laws in place that say if you can prove you were under Imperius, you’re not considered guilty of the crime. RWBY has none of that. We can assume that the grimm pool took complete control of the good Salem and is forcing her to do things against her actual will… but that’s never established. It’s an assumption. An interpretive reading. We don’t know that the magic doesn’t erase her free will, but at the same time we don’t know it does either. All we do know is that the pool created a “desire for pure destruction” in Salem. However, desires aren’t the same thing as a loss of control. Even if we pump up the concept of a “desire” into a “need” instead, that’s still not the same thing as, say, a chip put into your head that literally forces you to obey a 66 Order you’d otherwise never even contemplate (Star Wars). Or a demon taking control of your body and using it as a puppet (Supernatural). Needs are strong… but they can be overcome. Even the most intense of needs that keep us alive. We could (again) interpret that the magic created a need for destruction so powerful it’s akin to a drive like hunger, that Salem has to give into it in order to survive/stay sane, but that still isn’t a blanket justification for how she goes about achieving that. The villain in a zombie apocalypse film might go, “I had to eat! There was no other way! It was me or them… and I chose me.” We understand the drive, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay that they slaughtered an entire settlement in order to steal their food. In the same way, Salem doesn’t get to excuse a thousand years of abuse, attempted enslavement, and large-scale murder in the name of “I have this desire/need now.” Not unless the show establishes that the magic is 100% controlling her with the “good” Salem just along for the ride. Which it hasn’t.

In addition to this, I think there are three other aspects to Salem’s situation that make her different from the examples listed above (Bucky and LotR).

1. Planting the Seed

Unlike these other two fandoms where the characters began as Certified Heroes™, Salem’s situation is (again) a bit more complicated. She was absolutely an abuse victim. She was absolutely one of the good guys alongside Ozma. She absolutely got screwed over by the Gods in a horrifying way… but at this point Salem’s actions become less straightforward. For me, I think her emotional response is completely justified. If I had a God who wouldn’t bring back my tragically dead lover for BS “It’s about balance” reasons when he’s the ones who creates and enforces these rules about balance, I’d want to get a second opinion from God #2. If those Gods proceeded to emotionally and physically torture me for daring to question them all while lording themselves over humanity as an “experiment,” I’d want to take them down too. The problem here is not Salem’s goals, but rather the way she goes about them. Namely, manipulation. She very deliberately does not tell the God of Darkness about her meeting with Light. Much more damning (because let’s be real, this is a story chock-full of people telling lies of omission and keeping secrets), she rallies the people not out of a noble cause – Hey, why are we letting these two beings treat us like lab rats? – but rather through a much more deliberate lie: you too can get immortality if you just come help me kill them. 

I bring this up because it shows us that Salem had “bad” qualities long before the magic started its work on her. She was a flawed human whose flaws were emphasized more than the average hero corrupted by evil. She’s not a war hero fighting Nazis, or an average hobbit agreeing to an incredible self-sacrifice. She’s someone who (arguably selfishly) couldn’t let Ozma go and then did everything she could to get him back, with “everything” including manipulation and endangering others – to the point where everyone died. (As a side note, Salem basically did what others accuse Ozpin of. She brought people who never wanted to fight (civilians) into an actually impossible war (let’s kill two gods) under a falsehood (you’ll achieve immortality).) Are many of these mistakes human? Yes. Is it entirely Salem’s fault? No. She is not responsible for the Gods being the most dickish beings in the galaxy who chose to wipe out an entire species because they didn’t like them banding together. But Salem did have a hand in all this. She helped orchestrate the tragic conclusion. She’s not “pure” in the way that Bucky or Frodo was, which tells me that the magic perhaps isn’t full on corrupting her, but is building on something that we saw was already there. 

To use your drinking analogy, drinking doesn’t actually make anyone do anything. It just lowers inhibitions to do things we already wanted to do. Which means we’re still very much responsible for making awful choices while under the influence of alcohol. That’s one interpretation of the magic here. That desire/need lowers Salem’s inhibitions and encourages a person who is already poised to be a villain finally become one. I’ve been drunk and I’ve never once considered getting behind the wheel because I know precisely how dangerous that is—and Salem’s choices are far, far more harmful. To me, saying Salem is excused from her choices (in the context of what RWBY has given us so far) is like someone saying, “How can you blame them for shooting up an entire store and taking multiple lives? They were drunk!” I can still very much blame them for choosing that act, even if their thinking was impaired, even if someone else initially poured the alcohol down their throat without their consent. You’re absolutely right that there’s no easy way to map Evil Dark Magic onto real-world morality, but Salem’s actions are extreme enough that what comparisons we can make don’t look good.

2. Demonstrating Free Will

I think a stronger argument regarding the magic not full-on corrupting her is that we see Salem enacting free will throughout the course of her new lifetime. Meaning, the magic didn’t just turn her 100% evil and that’s that, she’s a mindless, destructive machine now. Rather, we’ve seen Salem engaging in a large variety of “good” and “bad” things. If the magic truly created a desire that she absolutely can’t fight against, then presumably she would have just killed/enslaved the world from the get-go. But she doesn’t. Salem hangs out in a cabin until Ozma finds her. Does she then go on her evil rampage? Again, no. She and Ozma set out to do “good” throughout the kingdom, saving the people from grimm and the like. Their choice to enact this good via godhood is, uh, not great (lol) but it’s still a far better use of her powers than what we see Salem doing later. This comparative trend continues on. She’s apparently stable enough to have four kids and lead a semi-normal life for a time. She only murders Ozpin when it’s clear that he won’t join her in this new “replace humanity” plan. Does she attack the first time he says no? No, rather she waits until he tries to sneak the kids away, which means Salem waited for absolute proof of his “betrayal” before acting. She then focuses on Ozpin for a thousand years, leaving Remnant to mostly do its own thing. Then she decides (for reasons not made clear by the canon) to attack the world now, launching a far more devastating attack than we’ve ever seen. And “ever” is at least a thousand years. 

All of this shows us that Salem has her own version of free will going on. She is making active choices and changing her behavior to suit a changing situation. That means she is responsible for choosing those truly heinous options: killing her children where before she raised them, killing Ozpin where before they argued, attacking the world where before she protected it. Salem has been bad since she came out of the pool, but she has a very wide range of badness that speaks to an ability to decide for herself just how bad she’ll be at any given time. The fact that Salem then gets really bad – genocidal dictator bad – makes her responsible for that change. To return to the previous comparison, a need to eat might drive someone to commit a technically “bad” thing like, say, stealing bread (Hey, Jean Valjean), but we see how that’s still a good person fulfilling that need in the least harmful way they possibly can. Salem could have fulfilled her own need in ways other than all the horror she’s pulled. 

3. Accepting Responsibility

Finally, to take up the LotR example, even knowing that the Ring influences people with Evil Magic doesn’t mean that everyone caught up in that web is excused of their related crimes. We pity Gollum, but he’s still someone to be wary of, someone we treat as the potential threat he is, and someone who is labeled as a villain for his actions. Sam is not wrong to be furious with the things Gollum has done. They’re not erased in the name of, “But none of that was really his fault. Only the Ring’s. Be mad/wary of the Ring and the Ring only.” Boromir is very susceptible to the Ring’s magic, but that also doesn’t let him off the hook for his choices. He’s berated for suggesting they use the Ring themselves. Aragorn firmly insists he return the Ring to Frodo, making it clear that there will be consequences (a fight) if Boromir doesn’t resist better. In the end, both of these characters – Gollum and Boromir – die as a way of “repenting” for those sins (at least, that’s one possible interpretation of the text). Even Bilbo, so obsessed with the ring that he terrifies Frodo by making that demonic grab for it, immediately apologizes for that action. He (and the story) understands that “Something else was acting upon me” doesn’t mean that the correct response to that is, “Well why should I apologize/face consequences for those actions then? It wasn’t my fault.” It partly was their fault though. There’s a strength of will here that dictates whether you’re going to go “bad” and even if we acknowledge that at some point everyone will inevitably fail, that doesn’t mean they don’t face the repercussions of that failure. Or that they’re not responsible for fighting as hard as they can for as long as they can. 

Which is the reason why Frodo is praised rather than damned. We understand the impact the Ring has on people and we watched him heroically struggle against it up until the very last second. (The same can be said of Boromir and Bilbo). Those two things work in tandem to show us how heroic Frodo is in the face of unimaginable odds. As said, RWBY has done nothing to establish the parameters of the grimm pool’s influence – can Salem resist it? How much? For how long? – but we also never see her struggling to do good even while the magic pulls her in a different direction. The context was never a pre-grimm pool Salem accepting the magic out of noble self-sacrifice, as Frodo did. There’s no scene where Salem begs Ozpin to help her stay on the right path and accepts his assistance like Frodo relied on Sam. And the worry is that if Salem is “cured” then the story won’t force her to face any punishment that equals the extent of her failure to resist the magic’s influence. Yeah, Frodo failed too, but his failure was at the very last moment, after struggling so hard, and it was a failure that was able to be very quickly fixed by Sam. Salem’s failure has been going on for centuries, we’ve never seen her struggle to overcome it, and we can’t fix the sheer amount of horror she’s introduced to the world. Immediately forgiving Frodo is a fair act within the context of his story. Immediately forgiving Salem would not be.

Overall I’d say that the Gods are absolutely responsible for this shit-show and need to be held accountable, but I don’t think that lets Salem off the hook for her own hand in all this. Even if someone chucks me into a situation I initially had no control over, I’m still responsible for the actions I take from then on out. Even if something is acting on me that makes being a good person that much harder, I still have a responsibility to fight against that with everything I have. So up until RWBY definitively says, “The magic is something that no human could have ever overcome or even slowed down and everything Salem did was a direct product of that magic,” she’s guilty. She’s not the only one who is guilty (looking at you, Light and Darkness) but she’s a very big part of it. Which brings me back to the ending point of the previous post: I don’t think RT has the ability to write a satisfying ending for such a complex situation. Not unless they just go the route of Salem being cured, choosing a redemption act, then dying for it. RT simplifies things too much and a story where Salem is excused of any and all responsibility in the name of “She started out as a victim” and “Magic was influencing her” isn’t going to go over well given the breadth and extent of her crimes. Not to mention, as laid out above, the implication that she was capable of lessening those crimes whenever she pleased. 

[kariachi]

Kevin episode! And a Lord Decibel episode but let’s be real we all watch this show for one thing and it’s my son.

Digital Quality

Oh gods they’re at another 90′s-Themed flea market. Well if nothign else it explains the familiar music that was playing over the opening credits.

‘The CD Underbelly’. Yep, this the 90s (seriously, I think I went to that store when I was 6)

Ben’s surprise at learning there was a ‘before the internet’.

Oh gods using previous Max designs for the flashbacks! Okay, yeah, that’s clever, that I applaud!

Max: Give cds a chance Ben & Gwen: The world upgraded for a reason damnit

Poor Max looks so sad to see them abandon him and his cds

The playing at being polite is the most familiar familial interaction I’ve seen out of these two all season.

My son! Who appears to be dead on his rollerblades.. Kevin, dearheart, are you alive?

Gwen, in the background: *appears concerned* Ben, in the middle ground: *is displeased* Kevin, in the foreground: *blearily returning to life*

No, wait, scratch that

He’s polite when he’s dead to the world, who knew

Ben: “This can’t be Kevin, his manners are even better than mine.” Gwen: “You’re right, must be some other guy with bad hair.”

Everybody is here to roast my son

Wait, wait, he’s alive enough to recognize he’s being spoken about!

Gwen, concerned. Ben, certain Kevin is faking fucking faceplanting out of exhaustion. Or he’s been hypnotized. Or he’s trying to distract them from somebody else. Basically he has forgotten the lesson of Four By Four and Vin Diagram, which was ‘yes, Kevin is capable of being places and doing things that do not have anything to do with evil’.

Ya know I’m sure people are expecting me to be more concerned, but as of right now this is just confirming what I suspected as a result of watching UA and that is that no Kevin sleeps.

Not that this is healthy, it’s probably the result of a fucking puff pastry’s worth of layers of trauma, but still. It’s sort’ve expected of Kevins, at least by me.

He tries to talk to Ben, calls him ‘Benny’ and ‘buddy’ and such, and then just falls asleep in place.

My child snores. Also fucking jolted awake and immediately looked around, presumably to re-ascertain where he was (or to make sure there’s no threats, but let’s be nice today) which really doesn’t help the pastry of trauma theory.

Yeah, this boy needs some fucking sleep. Hopefully this cd he’s looking for will help, but if it doesn’t honestly medical intervention might be called for at this point.

Ben does not believe Kevin could be looking for a normal cd. It must be a special evil cd of some sort.

...Max put out a cd titled ‘Audiobook For World Domination’. Which I will admit is a rocking title for an album

Ben, so offended at the idea he and Kevin might be bonding over cds that he throws his grandpa’s in a fit of rage.

Oh look, it’s Decibel. Hi. If you don’t mind keeping the volume down today, we’re trying to get Kevin some sleep.

Ben, convinced Lord Decibel and Kevin are working together. Lord Decibel insists he is a solo artist.

Meanwhile Kevin isn’t here enough to even take notice of the fight

Decibel, offended Ben is paying too much attention to Kevin’s complete lack of getting involved despite Ben’s surety this must be a team-up to appreciate his work.

The man has built a wall of solid sound

Okay, everybody who’s surprised he used it to seal in everybody in the area raise your hand or closest equivalent

Well, at least Decibel appreciates a good cd

And Max agrees with him

Ah, so Decibel’s new tech can make people dance to music, nice.

Watch it not work on Kevin just because he doesn’t have that sort’ve energy right now

Ah, he can make people dance to their own preferred genre with their own preferred genre.

Even works on dogs.”Humans can’t hear it, but it’s very catchy.”

Is gonna hold people to ransom with the power of the boogie

Ben pls do not challenge the supervillain while you are timed out

Well thank fuck, he hasn’t figured out how to make it work on kids yet. He’s working on it.

And now Ben is convinced that Kevin is finding the cd that will make children dance for Decibel

Whatever cd it is, he’s found it. Good on him. (Listen, even if Ben turns out to be right, if it’ll make my boy happy then I will allow it. I will allow the burning of the world at this point if it makes Kevin happy.)

He looks so happy in the quarter second before Shockrock divetackles him

And Ben’s surety convinces Decibel that it’s what he’s looking for so now he wants it, good job Tennyson

Kevin almost got away with his prize, but no, there’s a wall there that he forgot about

He keeps calling Ben buddy and honestly if that’s not the surest sign of how he really feels about the boy at this point (I’m so sorry Ben, he’s just a emotionally stunted disaster with no one and nothing and a desperate need for appreciation)

Somebody find this boy a bed and some warm milk, please

Kevin, asking if they can skip the part where they fight and just help each other out. Ben, confused as to why the fuck he’s acting so weird like he didn’t fall asleep on his feet in front of him like five minutes ago

Ben tries to destroy the cd, Kevin decides combat is just gonna have to happen

Three people fighting over a cd, one because he thinks destroying it will protect the world, one because he thinks it’ll grant him power, and one for personal reasons

I love my son. I really do. I’m fucking dying over here

Max has gone on ‘destroy Decebil’s cd collection’ duty and Gwen on ‘get the cd from these morons’ duty

Ben finally asks what the fuck Kevin’s deal is.

The deal, is that my boy hasn’t slept in six days. I’d be surprised but honestly if you’d told me he’d only slept one night in his life I probably would’ve believed you. And with all the shit that’s been going on in his life lately? Yeah, not all that shocking he’s having trouble sleeping. And the fact he managed to almost fall asleep a couple times already this episode? Does not make it better. Really just makes it more likely it’s less general insomnia and more the pastry of trauma.

“I team up with peoples, but him? Don’t know him, don’t care. What I do know, is I’m not functional enough to walk around. Why do you think I’m wearing this [helmet, rollerblades] again? I just need that cd to help me sleep.” My poor baby.

Ben apologizes for not listening earlier. He’s a good boy.

Ben openly and actively planning for the both of them, under the rightful assumption that if Kevin’s too tired to walk he’s probably too tired to form a proper plan or ascertain what someone else’s plan is enough to work with it. Right down to picking Bashmouth for him because Kevin just cannot brain.

Oh gods Slapback can’t reach the omnitrix symbol to start armored mode. Bashmouth has to do it form him mid-transformation sequence

And even as Bashmouth Kevin is too damn tired to be much good

Oh

Oh

Oh my baby

Decibel got and is playing the cd and-

It is literally a cd recording of... fatherliness. I don’t know how else to describe it, it’s things dads say when their kids are helping them with projects- including such classics of ‘can you hand me that wrench’ and ‘I’m proud of you’. My fucking son!! This, this specifically is what my child needed to fall asleep! Fucking dad-based ASMR! I am in tears! How could they do this to me!

Bring Kwarrel the fuck in I’m begging you!!

Good news, at least, Decibel can’t use it for evil and Kevin is finally sleeping

And Ben saves the day

Ben’s presence is enough to get cops to show up and wait at this point

Huh, Decibel can’t see without his visor

11/11 let my child live

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

I PANICKED... I PANICKED!!!

“It’s absolutely not anyone’s fault,” Amanda started the second that she heard the flat’s door open.

“That…is not a promising comment to walk in to,” her new partner, her new flatmate, her new…Person, looked more concerned than she thought he would.

“I’ll explain…”

“Explain-” he took a glance at the kitchen counter, looking at what she had spread out over them, and then slowly back at her, “What…is…? What happened?! Why are there three of them?”

Earlier that day: 

Amanda had refused to get out of bed. Her lover, relaxed late into the morning due to a low charge looked so human in the sunlight that crept in between the window blinds that she wanted to enjoy it. He was warm to the touch, charging over night after what she called a panic attack, and what he called a system error, had left him drained.

Despite no breath or heart beat, and only a subtle technological buzz signaling that he was ‘alive’ at all, the warmth, the way his face actually looked at rest for once, and the daylight high lighting him in such an unflattering, such a human way, displaying fine lines and crows’ feet, a day’s worth of stubble, Amanda would have been fine dozing the whole day away with him.

She must have fallen back to sleep at some point entirely, however, because she had woken up with a pillow under her arm instead of a ridiculously and unnecessarily well muscled torso. Christopher was long gone, and a note in his font-perfect hand writing was on the bedside table.

I had to go into the city to find a new cord, might be a few hours, I’ll call when I think you’re awake. Love.

It made her smile, but also struck her as deeply sad, that he had so little experience with love that he only wrote the word rather than following it with a comma and his name, or even a full “I love you,” but the smile at his sweetness won.

Amanda could smell coffee too, he must have put it on a timer or left it on the heater for her. She dragged herself out of the warm burrow of the fleece blanket and her duvet, pausing a moment to smell his pillow–laundry detergent, and a vague soapiness–an obsessive, tween-wearing-her-crush’s-sweater moment that she would deny if anyone caught her doing it.

The kitchen was a short walk but cold, and the flirty choice to pull on his boxers instead of her pajama pants last night after a 2AM snuggle turned into something that they probably shouldn’t have tried when he was already so low on energy now felt like genuinely bad decision. She wonders loosely if the frankly stupid idea to give into the middle of the night urge had any part in how drained he must have gotten to shut down wholly, but after his panic attack, she had welcomed the change of mood from him. And the other things.

She was half day dreaming about a particular movement he had tried, and she never really got much out of missionary but if he wanted to keep doing that thing with his hips then–

Fish was dead.

“FUCK.” her eyes had just glanced over the living room when they fell on the little tank, a five gallon thing with a gold fish in it that Christopher had been saying all week he wanted to replace with a larger one seeing how gold fish can live much longer and healthier lives in fifty or hundred gallon tanks but–

Fish was floating on the surface of the water.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuCK FUCK FUCK.”

Him coming home to seeing his pet, his only bit of light and kindness he’d ever gotten before he met her, the pet he was allowed to name as he was just coming into his sentience–him coming home to seeing his pet dead was out of the question entirely.

Without thinking, or even registering what she was doing, Amanda ran through their room, dressed in her clothes, pulled on boots, took a picture of the fish and searched addresses for pet stores.

Then she called her partner, blessedly he didn’t answer but she left a hasty, and half-convincing voice mail that he could take his time becuase she was going on a run anyway. Despite the fact it was raining.

Three pet shops later, Amanda was sprinting back (carefully) into the apartment, two bags, each with a goldfish, in case her luck truly went to hell and one of them died in transit. They almost looked like Fish, but Fish had to have spots becuase that meant that a certain android with perfect image recall in his memory would know instantly that something was wrong.

Amanda rummaged around for a net to scoop out the tiny corpse, stress blessedly not allowing her to meditate on the guilt she felt for planning on throwing away or flushing it when she was so careless with human lives not so long ago on a hellish station in the middle of nowhere. Slightly nauseous, she went to lift the sad thing and—

“—MOTHER FUCKER!” ——-Fish jumped. 

Fish was not dead.

Yet. 

Fish was flopping around on the carpet —without thinking, Amanda grabbed him–carefully–and dropped him back in the tank. Fish didn’t look too bad for being dead (asleep?) a moment ago, and flopping around a second ago. There was a strand of hair on one of his fins now, presumably hers, from the carpet, but he looked okay enough. 

Amanda slammed the tank’s lid back down, and then looked over to the counter where the other two fish waited in their little bags.

 “I fucking hate you.” she mumbled at the tank, half to herself, half to Fish. Fish had lost the hair, and was acting like a normal goldfish, not one that was recently dead. “Chris, you couldn’t just get a fucking cactus. Or an aloe plant. Something sturdy...”

They only had the one tank, and not willing to risk letting the others do something, get in a fight, plot an escape, sacrifice to a fish god, she put nothing past them. Fish had to live at least another hour. So, plastic containers. 

There were two that looked almost big enough but not quite, and one that she wanted to use had curry stains in it, so maybe not for a fish. Or for anything beyond the recycling chute in the hall. Fine. So.....

Amanda was duct taping the spout shut on the iced tea pitcher (neither of us even drink iced tea why do we have this?) and writing “TEMP FISH HOME. NOT DRINK.” in permanent marker on the tape when---

“It’s absolutely not anyone’s fault,” Amanda started the second that she heard the flat’s door open.

“That…is not a promising comment to walk in to,” Samuels looked more concerned than she thought he would.

“I’ll explain…”

“Explain-” he took a glance at the kitchen counter, looking at what she had spread out over them, and then slowly back at her, “What…is…? What happened?! Why are there three of them?”

“I PANICKED.....I PANICKED!!!!! Fish was dead, and--”

“Fish was dead? What happened!”

“Nothing happened! he was fine! A little fuzz from the carpet--”

“Why was Fish on the carpet?!?!?!?!”

“HE WAS DEAD? I had to go and get these guys, and then Fish had the audacity to not be dead when I got back and--”

“You...were going to lie to me that Fish was alive?”

“Not really I just wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Amy!”

“Well now Fish has two friends.”

“Now I need to go back out, and get a bigger tank...”

“Probably. You said you wanted to anyway.”

“Not today. How long was Fish out of the water?”

“I don’t know, ten seconds? Not long. And he was floating at the top of the tank. I thought he was dead.”

“Oh, no Fish just sleeps like that sometimes,” Samuels inspected the impostor fish closely, they were good matches, but not to his eye. They were going to have to get the hundred gallon tank. No way around it now.

“Why the fuck does he sleep like that?!”

“I don’t ask you why you sleep the way that you do,” 

[elysiumwaits]

Weekly Werewolf Sitcom: Grocery List God

Part of my ridiculous fluffy pack-as-family, everyone-lives-nobody-dies AU called Weekly Werewolf Sitcom. They can all be read as standalones, because they’re all just fluff with no hurt. 

Grocery List God on AO3

Tags/Warnings: AU - Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Dad Derek, Derek is a Good Alpha, Stiles is 18, Shenanigans, Unconventional Dirty Talk That Isn’t Really Dirty, Banter

Notes: Inspired by me attempting to grocery shop this morning - I thought about writing this instead of focusing on all of the insane people and noise around me at Wal-Mart after church on a Sunday.

“Why the holy hell are you all here?” Stiles asks when he and Derek climb out the Jeep to find half the pack waiting in the grocery store parking lot. “Oh no. No, nuh-uh, we’re not doing this. Get back in your cars and go away, you will eat what we buy, and you will be happy with it.” He’s pretty sure that, although Derek is doing the stoic thing with his face, his eyes are smiling behind his sunglasses. 

In front of them, leaning on the bumpers of two different cars and looking like a ragtag group of hooligans out for trouble, are Jackson, Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. Jackson seems annoyed as ever, scowling with his arms crossed next to Boyd. It’s a tactical move, Stiles knows, because Boyd is the calmest of the bunch - Isaac, Scott, and Erica can easily build on each other and end up doing headache-inducing things like racing IKEA carts or climbing trees. Boyd won’t usually talk them out of it like Allison or Lydia will, instead opting to watch with blatant but quiet amusement, but by standing next to Boyd, Jackson is less likely to get goaded into doing something dangerous or dumb. 

Scott, Erica, and Isaac all turn pleading eyes on Stiles. “Stiles,” Scott says, apparently having been previously appointed as their spokesperson. “It’s Sunday! We always hang out on Sundays. This way we can hang out and be productive at the same time.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles doesn’t buy this one bit. “You just want to come grocery shopping with us because you think you’ll get a say in what goes in the cart. You won’t get a say, Scott, we have a list.” He gives the paper in his hand an emphatic shake. “We are not deviating from the list. So go home, or to the loft, or go work on the house, or something far away from here.” He makes a shooing motion, and steels himself against three matching puppy dog faces (plus Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl). 

What he absolutely isn’t prepared for, though, is for those three puppy dog faces (and Boyd’s grin and Jackson’s scowl) to shift from him to Derek. He barely has time to realize what’s happened before Derek buckles under the pressure and shrugs, which is pretty much a surefire yes in Derek-body-language.

Erica whoops, and she, Scott, and Isaac take off running for the cart corrals, presumably to get a headstart on wreaking havoc in the local grocery store, while Boyd and Jackson follow the terror trio at a leisurely pace.

“Don’t race the carts!” Stiles calls, rolling his eyes. “We can’t get kicked out, we live in this town!” He turns a glare on Derek. “You’re weak. You caved so hard. In like a second.”

Derek shrugs again, pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head. “They’re all going to college in a couple months, might as well get some time in before they go.”

“I am nineteen years old, Derek,” Stiles says, like he’s not grinning because Derek is such a sap, deep in his little werewolf heart. “I don’t think you’re allowed to have any kind of empty-nest feelings before the age of thirty-five, at least. They’re going to make a mess, and they’ll probably try to sneak junk food and god knows what else into the cart when we’re not looking. Your bank account is going to suffer from this, you know it will.” 

He’s not serious anymore, and they both know it. Derek has a good point - though everyone’s colleges are relatively close and Stiles is going to be taking online classes rather than going to a campus in the name of working on his Spark for a couple years, he’s going to miss his pack. Maybe that’s worth the headache of wrangling six werewolves into acting like people at the grocery store. 

He leans over and bumps his shoulder into Derek’s, grinning when the wolf looks over to catch his eye. “We’re going to end up with three carts of groceries, and you know it.”

“We have the deep freeze,” Derek says. “I’m gonna have to buy a fridge for the house anyway.”

Stiles snorts. “You don’t even have electricity at the house yet. You’re going to have two refrigerators in your loft, because you’re soft and you can’t say no to your betas. It’s going to be ridiculous, and they will love it.”

Derek nods, smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He’s so reserved in public sometimes that Stiles has a hard time reading him. “Jackson’s going to talk you into getting everything you need to make lemon bars, and Isaac’s going to just carry around craisins and salad mix until we tell him to put it in the cart.”

Stiles stops walking to watch as Scott takes off running - at a normal human speed, thank goodness - with Erica in the basket of a shopping cart. Jackson is currently being talked into pushing a cart with Isaac in it, and is clearly wavering from his safe place next to Boyd. This will probably end in blood or property damage. 

“No more than three packs of those M&M cookies for Erica, or she’ll make herself sick again,” Stiles says, looking at Derek. 

“Boyd likes that caramel popcorn stuff.” Derek nods, and snags the list out of Stiles’ hand and the pen from behind Stiles’ ear. He starts writing, and Stiles resigns himself to his fate. “He won’t ask for it, so it has to be on the list already.”

“Lydia and Allison aren’t here, but we’ll have to figure them in too, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Do we need to factor Peter in this week?”

Derek shakes his head. “He’s doing that thing in Nevada, so we can skip getting that coffee he likes. What about Scott?”

Stiles snorts again. “Scott wouldn’t know shy if it bit him in the ass, you know that. He’ll throw what he wants in the cart.”

They look at the modified list together for a long moment. 

“Alright, lowkey goal is to get everyone out alive and without bloodshed.” Stiles gives a fond sigh. “Highkey goal is to not get temporarily or permanently banned from this fine establishment, because I don’t want to have to drive to the next town over to grocery shop every two weeks.”

“Tall order,” Derek jokes. “We’ve only been banned from two places in town, babe, I don’t think the grocery store will-”

There’s a sudden loud crash, the distinct sound of a cart smacking into another cart, followed by a yelp, a thump, and then the loud blare of a car alarm going off. Stiles and Derek resolutely stare at each other instead of looking over at what is sure to be another hit to Derek’s wallet.

“Well, we can always have groceries delivered off the Internet,” Stiles says with a sigh. “You want to rock-paper-scissors to see who has to deal with that?”

Derek shakes his head, but still doesn’t look over. The car alarm is still going off, and the betas are suspiciously silent now. “Take the list and run. Maybe they’ll let us check out before they ban us if it’s already in the cart.”

“I don’t want to look,” Stiles mutters. “I talked Isaac off the top of a telephone pole a couple weeks ago, Derek. Erica and Scott are banned from three IKEAs. I hate to say it, but I think Jackson and Boyd are the good children.”

“We still have Allison and Lydia.” Derek looks over at whatever mess awaits him and gives a barely-imperceptible sigh. “Good news, no one is bleeding.”

“Bad news?”

“Erica appears to have rolled across the hood of a Toyota Camry. She and Scott look pretty guilty, and she hasn’t gotten off the ground yet. I think she may have dented something. There’s an upside-down shopping cart.”

“Where are Jackson and Isaac?” Stiles still doesn’t look. He’s not sure his blood pressure can handle it. “Do I want to know?”

“I think they left the scene of the crime, there’s an abandoned shopping cart near the front of the store.” Derek scans the parking lot. “Boyd is standing far enough away to indicate he wasn’t involved, but he’s definitely doing that thing.”

“The thing where he’s laughing but he’s not? Erica’s probably not dead, then, at least.” Stiles rolls his eyes and blows out a huff. “How’s that empty-nest thing going for you?”

“It’ll be quiet,” Derek says, and squares his shoulders as he prepares to go deal with whatever the hell they’ve just done to that poor Camry. “I’m not sure if that’ll be a blessing or a curse yet.”

“Little of both, depending on the day.” Stiles works up the courage and glances over, and, yep, that sure looks like Erica’s managed to dent a car they don’t even own. She doesn’t have good luck with cars, that’s for sure. “Okay. You go be the big bad Alpha, I’ll go start the shopping. Bring ‘em in if they promise to behave.” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Derek’s face. “I’ll get you that weird carbonated water you like so much.”

“Get the kind I like,” Derek says quickly. “Not the berry kind.”

A grin spreads across Stiles’ face. “I will only get ‘the kind you like’ if you say what flavor it is.”

Derek glares a little, pretending he’s not about to break into a smile despite the chaos awaiting him across the parking lot. “Pamplemousse,” he says quickly. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a real fruit.”

“I just like hearing your badass, model-hot voice saying nonsensical words. It turns me on.”

“Collywobbles,” Derek says, low and seductive. “Bumbershoot. Lollygag.”

“Oh, baby, you get me so hot,” Stiles deadpans.

“Flibbertigibbet.” Derek finishes with a wink no one else can see, and then turns away, dropping his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how amused he really is, putting a scowl on his face instead. “Reconvene in twenty minutes?”

“I’ll shoot for a speed-run.” Stiles starts heading toward the entrance of the grocery store they probably won’t be allowed into again after this. He does, however, take a moment to check out just how nice Derek’s jeans fit him, before he goes inside with Boyd following from where he’d been standing and witnessing Erica and Scott’s crash-and-burn. 

“There’s always online grocery delivery,” Boyd offers. “You know, for when we get banned.”

“You are all conspiring to give me grey hair,” Stiles says. “Come on, let’s go get your popcorn.”

[cherryeoo]

How Convenient

Cold nights like these were nothing new to Kihyun. Every night was the same. Drunkards staggering through the narrow alleyways to their next destination, couples sitting hand in hand as they occupied shops and cafes while workers burning the late night oil race home to their families. All of them not the least bit concerned about the thing called life. Each of them go about their daily routines, some even repetitive, not worried if this day could be their last. Each one taking life for granted.

But that didn’t go for everyone.

Kihyun would occasionally run into, sometimes literally, someone who lives each and every day as their last, and for some, that day is their last. Those people live good lives and for that, are granted a good afterlife. Nevertheless, however, those that live such lives can be tempted into living different lives - coerced into abandoning sound morals and logic.

That’s where Kihyun comes in.

He’s not your typical man - hell, he’s not even a human being. Though his physical appearance is that of a delicately masucline one, Yoo Kihyun is actually a demon whose sole purpose is to tempt people into doing his own dirty deeds - occasionally carrying them out himself - to ensure that not everyone has the coveted afterlife. He deems it as a sort of balance - like nations who utilize population control, or the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

There are the rare few that are not to be touched and those that cannot be tempted no matter his efforts. Such persons are those who are usually reborn so demons like him can get another chance at trying their hands at temptation, but those happenings are slim. Likewise, only those acquired by near death experiences are able to garner a second chance at redemption.

Entering the familiar location, Kihyun made his way to the back of the dimly lit restaurant’s bar. A lone table in the farthest and darkest corner of the area became his favorite spot. It gave him the perfect view of the entire building making it easier for him to spot unsuspecting targets. Also to his pleasure, he found joy in the speedy process of doing so - after all, Kihyun was the best at what he did.

As expected, Kihyun noticed a slightly intoxicated male near the bar. It should be stated that Kihyun didn’t exactly have any special powers of sorts, he was just a master at the art of persuasion. Many would attribute such professionalism to his appearance because despite his human skin, his physical features were a bit outworldly - some might even deem him supernaturally perfect.

Midnight black hair that shone deeply - almost as if the thick strands were breathing, and perhaps they were. Piercing, yet mesmerizing eyes like a dark abyss capable of disappearing into at a mere glance. Tall and thin - ethereal, really. Every human who encountered him described him as though he were some heavenly being instead of a demon, but to humans, demons were grotesque beings - not someone who looks like a strikingly alluring man.

In addition, each of his targets claimed they didn’t remember anything after encountering Kihyun. With blank memories and only their hands and bodies at crime scenes, the targets would ultimately get blamed for the crime, thus becoming tainted - their chance at a good afterlife lost.

Approaching the rowdy male, Kihyun steadied his hands before he had the chance to spill his drink on Kihyun or anyone else. Leaning closer he whispered into the now still male’s ear before pulling back and looking deep into the stranger’s eyes before watching the man pay his tab and make his way out of the building and into autumn’s chilly night air. A devious smile slowly curved Kihyun’s lips at another deed done that he’ll surely hear about on the news the following morning.

Turning around, Kihyun noticed a woman in the typical short, skin tight black dress eyeing him as if he were a gazelle and she was a lioness. Little did she know it was the opposite - him the predator and she the prey.

Might as well have some fun, he thought to himself before approaching her with long, confident strides.

Daylight poured through the cracks in the curtains. Kihyun picked his coat off of the floor before slipping through the door without uttering even the slightest farewell. Not that he deemed it important - it was a one night stand, after all.

Making his way to his apartment, Kihyun thought of trying a new location tonight. He was starting to gain too much popularity at his usual spots, so he really had no choice but to pioneer onto somewhere new. With a mild sigh, he unlocked the door before slipping into his apartment - shoes immediately kicked off at the door before he moved forward to enter the kitchen for a quick bite.

The apartment was small, but comfortable. Shockingly cozy and cheerful with light colored walls and furniture - definitely not the type of place anyone would think someone like him would live, but Kihyun was different. He enjoyed daylight and living life as a normal human, or what could be perceived as such. When he was alive, he didn’t get to enjoy much of the one he was given, so now he makes up for it the best he can in this life while also carrying out the orders of a demon.

Call it a balance.

Cleaning up after breakfast, he takes a quick shower before laying down upon his bed to run through a mental list of what he could tempt someone to do tonight. There were so many possibilities that he found himself slightly stressed with the realization of just how little time there was in each day. With a sigh, Kihyun closed his eyes before drifting off into a deep sleep. He might be a demon, but he, too, needs his rest.

Waking up to the sound of his alarm, Kihyun sits up and rubs his eyes bore looking out the window to see a veil of darkness from the sunless sky. A small pang constricted his heart upon the sight - he’s becoming more familiar with the sights and sounds of night than he is with daylight. He missed the feeling of the warm sun on his skin, the warm breeze, the sight and sound of an afternoon rain showers and the scent thereafter. He missed all of it, but there wasn’t much that he could do other than release his hand’s grip upon his chest before getting up and readying himself for the long night ahead.

The air was colder than usual. Pulling his jacket tighter around his frame, Kihyun made his way down the opposite end of the street he usually walked. Naturally, he wasn’t too familiar with this area, but he didn’t have anything to worry about - nothing can happen to demons. He had been attacked once by a drunk man that resulted in him being stabbed, but he felt no pain, nor could he die. His attacker, however, could and did at Kihyun’s hand, no less. After all, he couldn’t risk the exposure.

Kihyun had been aimlessly wandering about, zig-zagging through the streets without paying attention to where he was going. Stopping at a corner, he noticed a small convenience store across the street from where he stood - almost ironically as his stomach growled. Caressing his tummy, Kihyun made his way into the building.

The store was vacant except for girl working the register and a younger man browsing through the assortment of alcoholic beverages while stealing glances at the employee every now and then, not even bothered by Kihyun’s presence or the fact that Kihyun was aware of his actions. It disgusted the demon, but he didn’t do anything. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and a bag of honey chips before making his way to the counter, but as he did so, the other man pushed his way past Kihyun as he slammed his selection upon the counter before leaning in with a haughty smile.

The girl at the register looked calm, but Kihyun could sense that she was nervous. Silently, the demon watched her and the guy in front of him closely as a perfectly shaped brow raised.

Kihyun presumed she was around the same age he was - shoulder length black hair framing her face in a cute and chic way. A baggy hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans covered her figure as a tired expression seemingly permanently etched itself across her face. Noticing the books beside her, Kihyun realized she was a college student before nodding - this must be one of the ways she’s paying for her schooling.

He had to give it to her, she seemed like a good person, or responsible at least, and for once in his life, he felt conflicted. Despite her good nature, she wasn’t off limits to him, but there was something in the way she acted and carried herself that struck fear into him; almost conscious-like like when he was a human, himself. She seemed like she was living the best life she could for herself and he didn’t want to jeopardize that. He could always easily find a new target, like the guy in front of him.

As he was observing her, the young man before him had become quite bold. It was obvious that he was hitting on her, but his fingers and palms were getting touchy and too close for the female’s comfort. She tried backing up as best as she could, but the small confines of the counter didn’t allow her to escape his reach. Reaching his hand out he went to run his fingers across the side of her cheek, only to be stopped before he could lay a finger on her. Kihyun whipped his hand up and grabbed his wrist. The man spun around shooting daggers at Kihyun as he looked to his wrist and back to Kihyun.

“What the hell, man? Let me go!”  The young man was slurring every word that left his lips.

“I would strongly suggest you not touch her.”

Staring intensely at the man, Kihyun slowly pulled the drunk’s arm back down to his side as he leaned forward to whisper a task into the man’s ear before releasing him. Watching closely, the man took the alcohol back to the shelf and walked out of the store. Turning back to the slightly shaken woman, Kihyun gave her a gentle smile before placing his items on the counter. Returning his hands back down to his side, Kihyun noticed her sigh in relief as tensed shoulders relaxed. Carrying out the transaction, Kihyun smiled at her as he grabbed the bag from the counter before bidding her a goodnight and to stay safe.

“Thank you.”

Her small, soft voice echoed through the now quiet store. Kihyun turned around to glance at the girl once more. The sound of her voice resonating deep within him. He felt frozen. He knew he should open the door and leave, but his body would not respond. Locking gazes with the girl before him, he could see the appreciation in her eyes and almost instantaneously, he felt his body frost over completely.

Is this how people felt when they looked at him? Who was this girl? Why did she have such an effect on him?

Snapping himself out of his daze he blinked rapidly and looked away from her. Clearing his throat, he opened the door as his voice cracked, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

That’s all that Kihyun asked before leaving without waiting for her response. Quickly walking outside and back to the opposite end of the street, his head cleared almost instantly. Briefly halting, he dipped into the shadows before turning back to face the store. He could see the girl staring in his direction, but he knew she could no longer see him. Kihyun watched as she played with the small blue gem dangling on the necklace that hung just below her collarbones, her eyes shifting away from his direction to fall upon two females that walked into the store. Taking the opportunity, he snuck back down the street, but only to turn back once more to peer at her with ever-burning confusion.

An hour later, Kihyun found himself perched up on top of a roof of a nearby building. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the vicinity of the store. He couldn’t leave her. Snacking on his chips and water, the demon watched as the girl hastefully made her way around the store before doing one final check to make sure everything had been completed and the store was vacant. Grabbing her belongings, she switched off some of the lights before making her way out into the night. After locking up, she spun on her heels before heading down the same street Kihyun came from.

Making his way off the roof, Kihyun kept to the shadows as he followed her back to her place. Once he knew she was safe inside her apartment, he made his way back to his place. Gnawing on his lip, Kihyun was deep in thought. He had heard stories about demons being affected by humans, but he always thought they were myths, but now? Now, he was starting to question everything.

Why couldn’t he bring himself to leave that store? It’s like she was gravity and he was being pulled to wherever she was by an unseenable force.

With a sigh, he flopped down onto his bed and rolled onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling his thoughts consumed his brain.

“Humans can’t have an affect on demons, can they?”

[drsilverfish]

A Pearl of Great Price - 14x13 Lebanon

Well, Supernatural’s 300th episode was SO affectingly emotional. And beautifully so.

But what exactly is up with that magic pearl in 14x13 Lebanon?

Continuing my meta series on the Jungian themes of S14 (have I mentioned how much I LOVE S14?) I’m going to talk about the significance of the Baizhu, the heart’s desire granting pearl of the episode, as the pearl of great price. 

In particular I’m going to talk about the pearl as holding special significance as the object which permits Dean to confront (and make peace with) the ghost of John Winchester. The pearl helps to move on Dean’s psychological haunting by an internalised construct of his father, which has oppressed and repressed him for so long  - part of the Jungian Shadow-work of the season. 

So, why was a pearl the magical object chosen to grant Dean’s wish-of-the-heart, thus altering the time-lines to resurrect John Winchester?

Pearls have significance in the Bible as metaphors for Heaven, because of their beauty and value...

In Revelations, the gates of Heaven are made of pearls, hence the pearly gates. And in the parable of the pearl, the “pearl of great price” is commonly interpreted to represent Heaven:

”Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”

— Matthew 13:45-46,

King James Bible

So, the pearl grants Dean’s wish for what he had long imagined as a kind of Heaven - his original family, Mom, Dad, Sam and himself, all together again. 

But, as with most wish stories (and I’m sure @prairiedust​ will be writing a great meta about fairytales and wishes) - be careful what you wish for is the maxim here.

Because Dean finds that the price the pearl exacts is too high. 

If they accept the world the pearl has delivered, he and Sam will, eventually (as the timelines course correct) no longer be hunting together. Sam will be a lawyer and a kale-eating motivational speaker (a hilarious nod to Tom Cruise’s dick character in Magnolia) and Dean will be on the FBI’s “most wanted” list again. They will be separated. Neither will the brothers have the gift of their mother’s return, because Mary will never have been resurrected by Amara. Additionally, their adopted Nephilim son Jack will not exist, because Lucifer (presumably) will remain in the Cage. And finally, Castiel will not have escaped his endless obedience mind-wipes in Heaven, thanks to his transformational encounter with Dean, starting with the raising of the elder Winchester from perdition. Instead, Cas will stand at that dick-in-Heaven functionary Zaccharia’s side, and will neither know nor love the Winchesters. He will still belong to Heaven (and not to Dean). 

So, the pearl can be understood as the pearl of great price, because the price the pearl requires is simply too great, and the “Heaven” it offers is a false one.   

Dean chooses (with Sam’s full assent) in the end, all the pain, all the suffering of his and Sam’s lives, including his 40 years in Hell and Sam’s agony in the Cage with Lucifer, because that journey has brought them to who and where they are now. Dean chooses the found family that their journey has brought, not the (impossible) fantasy family of his boyish imaginings.  

JOHN: (to Sam and Dean): “And now you live in this secret bunker, with an angel and Lucifer’s kid?”

later....

JOHN (to Dean): “I guess that I’d hoped eventually that you would… get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family…”

DEAN: “I have a family.”

(And oh boy is that ever the kind of conversation that happens between a hetero-normative parent and their queer kid - but that’s another meta).

However, there’s more, because as well as representing too great a price, and a false Heaven, thanks to its Biblical associations, the wish-granting pearl in Lebanon also links to the season’s Jungian themes. 

A pearl has also (I argue) been chosen by Dabb and Glynn as the episode’s wish-granting object, because of that object’s connection to alchemy. 

Jung’s key interpretive understanding of the mystical pseudo-science of alchemy, is his revelation that the transformation of matter in medieval alchemical texts can be understood as representative of the (potential for) the soul’s psychological journey towards greater self-actualization. 

“The alchemical operations were real, only this reality was not physical but psychological. Alchemy represents the projection of a drama both cosmic and spiritual in laboratory terms. The magnum opus had two aims: the rescue of the human soul and the salvation of the cosmos. What the alchemists called ‘matter’ was in reality the [unconscious] self...”

Carl Jung in Speaking: Interviews and Encounters ( p228) (in a 1952 interview with Mircea Eliade).  

Here is one of the earliest printed books on alchemy (originally 1546, by the reputed alchemist Bonus Ferrara, but translated into English, as here, in 1894):

You can actually read a copy of the translated text itself here:

https://archive.org/stream/newpearlofgreatp00laciiala/newpearlofgreatp00laciiala_djvu.txt 

The “pearl of great price” is another name for the “Philosopher’s Stone”. On a material level, in alchemy, this is the supposedly mystical and magical substance which could turn base metals like mercury into gold. So alchemical texts, like Bonas’ one above, read in part as weird chemistry recipe books. But, on a metaphorical level, this chemistry was understood (in Bonas’ book and elsewhere) as analogous to the soul’s journey to God:

“The Sages represent the Stone as bearing the same relation to the metals which is borne by form to substance, or, soul to body.”

Jung takes that Christian interpretation of alchemy (made by correspondence of the world below with the world above) and transmutes it into a psychological one. For Jung, the alchemical work is the work which psychoanalysis can assist a person with - the work of facing and integrating with one’s Shadow self.

My previous series of meta on S14 and the Shadow is here:

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/180906003584/the-shadow-14x08

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/181122764984/14x09-the-spear-jungian-decoder-ring-edition

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182299438269/jung-and-deans-journey-towards-self-integration

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182486474324/ouroboros-in-prophet-and-loss-14x12 

So, how does the episode’s pearl of great price (aka the Philosopher’s Stone, aka the mystical substance which makes possible the soul’s journey to God, aka, according to Jung, that which makes possible profound psychological progress) happen for Dean, in particular, in Lebanon (given that he was the one whose wish the pearl granted in the first place)?

Well, Dean has been running from an internalised psychological construct of his father, a haunting by John Winchester’s ghost, if you will, for a very long time.  

The opening sequence to 14x13 Lebanon is key in recognising this. Because one of the flashbacks we get is to 14x04 Mint Condition, in which Dean confronts the ghost of “Hatchet Man”. 

Here is the 14x13 Lebanon flash-back at the start of the ep. Dean, with the axe:

confronts the ghost of the comic store owner, animating the life-size model of “Hatchet Man”:

As my meta on Mint Condition made clear at the time, 

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/179735406854/batman-vs-superman-connection-and-conflict-in 

the episode, “...invites us to see Stuart’s conflict with the ghost of his father-figure, the comic store owner, as a mirror for Dean’s conflict with the ghost of his own father, for whom AU Michael (in the narrative arc of S14) acts as a mirror (AU Michael = John Winchester = Dean’s own internalised repression via the metaphor of Dean’s “drowning” possession by Michael).”

That the psychological construct of the ghost of John Winchester has been a very repressive internal construct, for Dean, is further symbolised in S14 both by Dean locking AU!Michael in a closet in his mind AND by the Ma’lak box Dean has built and has been intent on locking himself inside for all eternity.

Just to re-emphasise this, the opening sequence of 14x13 also shows us AU!Michael once again banging on the doors of Dean’s mind-closet:

Dean repressed a lot of himself in order to be a “good little soldier” for his Dad, in order to try and be the parent for Sam that his Dad was manifestly failing to be, and in order to embody the kind of (straight) masculinity he thought his father approved of. 

So we can think of John in 14x13 Lebanon as partly representing the opportunity (at last) for Dean to confront that internal “ghost of John Winchester”, i.e. for Dean to confront a part of himselfL

When Dean is able to hear his father tell him he is proud of him, when Dean is able tell his father, out loud, that he loves him, when Dean is able to tell his father that he has a found family that includes Castiel and Jack, when Dean is able to tell Sam out loud (as a result of his encounter with his father) this:  

DEAN: “Look, we’ve been through some tough times, there’s no denying that, and for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom too, y’know, I was angry. But, say we could send Dad back, knowing everything, why stop there? Why not send him even further back, and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But, here’s the problem? Who does that make us? Because I gotta be honest. I don’t know who that Dean Winchester is. And I am good with who I am...”

that is Dean being able to tell himself all those things:

I am proud of you

I love you

I have a “found family” whom I love

I am good with who I am.

Jung tells us that the more we run from the Shadow, the more its terrifying haunting power over us grows. It is only when we turn and confront it, and embrace it (as the repressed parts of ourselves) that we can achieve psychological growth. 

As I said in my meta last week on “The Riddle of the Sphinx” in 14x12 Prophet and Loss:

“The Jungian solution, which the S14 narrative is offering to the metaphorical Riddle of the Sphinx, is, to turn around and embrace the Shadow-self (the parts of oneself one has repressed) and in so doing, to evolve - to become more fully human.

http://drsilverfish.tumblr.com/post/182482293379/the-riddle-of-the-sphinx-14x12-prophet-and-loss

The pearl of great price in 14x13 Lebanon, in symbolising the transformative alchemical power of the Philosopher’s Stone, has enabled Dean, in confronting and embracing the ghost of his father, to undertake some powerful Shadow-work. Shadow-work that will, eventually, help him to defeat both the repression locker in his mind where AU!Michael resides and the eternal repression locker represented by the Ma’lak box.