#and the circles try very very hard to categorize them

[attractthecrows]

New question: what are all the types of mage in your magic system? Honestly I'm really curious about the magic system in general!

WOOHOO

so to be honest, most of my "magic system" is taking what I like from the games and running with it, or taking what I know about physics and how DA magic behaves to its logical conclusion.

so like, my character Laure Amell is an arcane warrior & spirit healer in the game. but in terms of writing, it's more that she's always had an affinity for working with spirits, whether they're healing spirits or demons. learning how to use the magic of the Emerald Knights and step partly into the Fade made those tendencies that much stronger, and made it very easy for her to channel certain spirits, like Valor. the Chantry and Circles would call it possession because they have no precedent of mages and spirits working directly in tandem as allies and friends, without one trying to control the other. (and on a side note, solas would either like her for treating spirits the exact same as people and being willing to embrace them as they are, or he would be disgusted by her blindly imitating the old Elvhen. in some ways, she mirrors his pride. she resists *possession* specifically because, in her words to Uldred, "I don't need your help to become unstoppable.")

I call Revallen a pyromancer, but in-game he's just an elemental specialist, later a Rift mage. I went with Rift magic for him because of his elemental focus: Fire is a natural force, gravity is a natural force. iirc Solas described Rift magic as using energy directly from the Fade to affect his surroundings; that's very similar to how fire magic works for Revallen anyways, so rather than branching out into something else, his power simply evolved. And in a way, his father's xylomancy is similar - but rather than pulling energy from the Fade to the waking world, he reached into the living wood to find the mana that was already there. The manipulation is the same, but the source differs. (the only reason Revallen doesn't have a fancy elvish title like adahl'elaran is because I haven't sat down and conjugated 'pyromancer' into elvish like i did 'xylomancer')

Danie, my main Hawke, is a force mage in-game. I took that to mean she's adept at manipulating forces themselves; gravity, velocity, pressure, stretch and compression. this can be used on a larger scale like the ingame spells, used to stop something in its tracks by negating its inertia, or taken to a smaller scale to crush, expand, pressurize, or float smaller objects. how this works in regards to mana and the Fade, I'm not sure; it'd be similar to Rift magic, I think, but more intangible. So she can force an elemental reaction if she chooses, not by manipulating the element itself, but rather by changing the conditions to cause said reaction. ie. lowering air pressure to lower ambient temperature and cause ice formation, or increasing pressure & compression of an item or enclosed space like a flask to spark a combustion. she also has no fancy title; she was taught by her father and has no formal magic training.

so the takeaway I suppose is that, in my interpretation, "magic" is less of a mystical thing and more a way to manipulate natural forces. spirits and the Fade are a part of that, but since the Veil was erected, it takes more effort and isn't as intuitive to most mages, and the spirits themselves have a very hard time outside of the Fade without some grounding or a channel. everything not directly affected by the Titans (ie dwarves & native fauna of the deep roads) has a trace of mana, but mages are the only ones able to sense, manipulate, channel, or otherwise affect said mana.

[jamethinks]

One thing I find very ironic about Spyxfamily is the way the Desmonds are portrayed. I understand that according to the narrative, they (namely Donovan) are the antagonists of the story, but I do find it quite tepid that so many character analysis is bonded by this very dichotomy style approach to understanding the characters (if that makes any sense).

I'm having a hard time approaching my point so bare with me if it starts to get confusing or disjointed.

I always see people talking about how the Forgers (aka the fake family) are able to have a happy relationship and a genuine bond while the Desmonds (aka the real family) are distant and uncaring of one another. There's a lot of emphasis on the parallels between Damian and Anya and how the presence of their fathers impact their lives. Most of the discussion is centered around shaming Donovan for not being more involved in Damian's life but not a lot of people are acknowledging why.

The whole reason for the fake family as part of Twilight's mission is because Donovan is a closed off skeptic who avoids unnecessary social interaction. This mission is supposedly the easiest way to get to him. As the story goes on, we gain a better understanding of just how shut off Donovan is and how much he actually isolated himself, even from his own family.

But the thing is, his actions are justified. The mere existence of Operation Strix validates his fears and anxieties. The fact that Twilight a spy is trying to expoilt the relationship he has with his children in order to get closer to him is the very reason he avoids them so much. It's people like Twilight that make him such a skeptical person.

Again, people praise Twilight for being a good dad, except he isn't really a good dad. It's all a facade. He's so dedicated to his goal as a spy for the West that he's willing to fake an entire family just to find out what Donovan is planning. Everything Donovan hates and resents is embodied in Twilight.

In the end, Twilight is just as harmful to Anya as Donovan is to Damian. He grabbed a random child from an orphanage and is using her for his own personal gain with limited regard for her well-being. We are not even sure what he plans on doing with her when the mission is over. Anya is obviously able to manipulate the situation to her own advantage, but that's only because she's a telepath. Any other kid would just be playing along, assume they just got themselves a new family overnight. We do see him grow and deepen his bond with Anya, in some cases threatening the mission for her benefit, but that was never a guarantee.

In a very frustrating way, Twilight is also contributing to Damian's strained relationship with his father and family. While Donovan obviously doesn't know what Twilight is doing, he's still aware that there are people out there who might. So, he continues to be guarded and make unreasonable demands of his children. He makes Damian feel he has to earn his place in his father's life because people like Twilight push Donovan to limit the number of people that are allowed in his life. I'm not saying it's Twilight specifically who's at fault, but people like him who are very much trying to force their way into his circle.

And I'm not saying of this yo defend Donovan or put down Twilight but I would like for less black and white thinking when talking about a Manga that hinges itself on nuance and the complexity of post war society. I find it a bit tired to keep categorizing characters as good or bad because it really hinders any conversation about them.

Idk I just feel there's a lot of moral ambiguity in sxf that really is intended to make us question our own moral code so it's weird seeing people ignore the actual harm Twilight and Yor cause just to reinforce their own limited moral values.

I don't think this makes much sense honestly.

[sanderssidesthehouse]

Can you do Patton for the character bingo? I've seen a lot of different takes so I'm curious to see what you think.

-🌻🌼

Hi flower anon! I'm a little nervous about this one ngl but I will do it for you.

Circle sizes represent how confident I was marking a box. Not a lot of confidence on this one bc I'm still conflicted. I think further resolution of his arc might solidify how I feel about him, or change it completely.

I don't really like Patton Sanders and that's my toxic trait, but HEAR ME OUT. I don't want to convince anyone not to like him, in fact I'd love to convince people of all the reasons they COULD possibly like him! Just like bc of my real life personal experiences, I'm not very fond of him. He is not my blorbo 😔 I don't hate him, but I do mildly dislike him. (As a character I think he's great, his conflict presents a fascinating narrative that I enjoy quite a lot.)

"But Ace," I hear you saying, "you said you don't like him and yet you still think he's being done dirty by fans?" To which I say "Yes, absolutely, there are people out there liking and disliking him for the wrong reasons!" (In my humble opinion.)

Patton is NOT an innocent little baby who needs to be protected, NOR is he a manipulative asshole. He's just a guy trying his best who messes up sometimes. He should be treated like an adult with agency and be given some grace for when he stumbles.

He does care about his famILY and he tries so hard to show it, but he's always felt like he has to know the correct answers and that they're depending on him. And tbh with how much c!Thomas defers to Morality, I get it. When someone is constantly looking to you for answers and it's your job to have them, saying 'I don't know' is scary! But he and everyone else should really try to be brave and say 'let's figure it out together' rather than confidently giving an answer that has a good chance of being wrong. But again, I do understand the crushing weight of these expectations.

I think it's really clever that Morality got paired with Emotions, bc emotions are what drives morality. Different people have different emotions that more strongly affect their morals, with Patton, we see compassion as a primary motivator, but also fear. The fear of slipping into the category known as 'bad person' and the fear of that categorization being permanent. And then bottles that fear up out of shame. Very catholic guilt of him.

I do feel bad for Patton where we left him bc he's finally going to get the help he needs, but somewhat at the cost of the love and respect of his famILY. Roman feels betrayed, Virgil hates Janus, and Logan... Well he's got a lot going on right now anyway.

I prefer Patton when I'm looking at him through the lens of his relationships to the others. He really does his best for them, he's a sweet guy. He tries to be encouraging and he clearly knows the other three very well. And with Janus I think the strongest negative emotion he feels is occasional annoyance, you know, like when he was impersonated. He seems to actually kind of like him otherwise. Not the biggest fan of Remus, which is an understandable side effect of him not yet having sorted himself out. He's trying now, so I'm sure that will come with time.

Also his froggy traits are sick as hell and I hope we see more, I want to see more, make him a frog please, I beg. That's like, the high point of his character to me, I actually had to come back and edit this after I scheduled it to include that bc holy crap Patton's a frog and I love that for him, but I also love that for ME.

So why don't I like him? I have intrusive thoughts and moral ocd and personal trauma I'm not going to get in to so like... He's just so unbelievably frustrating to me as he currently is. Also it just irks me that he's clearly not as naive as he pretends to be and it just boils my blood when people play willfully ignorant. He's doing it bc he's scared, but isn't that why everyone does it? It's still bad, and it causes a lot of damage. I'm of the opinion that if something scares you, you should learn everything you can about it. Logan said something like that once and he was right.

He just makes me feel the need to tell people they don't have to be a moral paragon to be good or do good things or be deserving of happiness, health, safety, and love. I get it's his job and all, I just really can't separate a character like that from all the stuff I had to learn and unlearn for my personal health and safety. And maybe I actually just want to say that to him. Maybe the problem is that we're too similar in all of our worst traits and seeing a grim reflection where once stood a cheery mural is upsetting. Maybe it's Maybelline.

Idk, I might actually like him. I'm very wishy washy on this subject. I think I can manage liking him while also disliking him. I'm very talented. I would love for everyone to tell me all the reasons they love Patton! I think he's neat and I'd love to like him.

[shallowseeker]

you don't think it's sam that's the john substitute? he's more like john

I think Sam is juuuust enough like her not to trigger the categorization of co-protector. I love Sam, but he's also got that immature-ish Sammy something that ticks just enough "my kid" boxes, you know?

It probably also has to do Mary and Dean's personalities being alike, too. Sam's got one foot in the "Dean's kid," circle, and she identifies more with Dean. And so, Sam may be Mary's kid, but she's also inheriting the dynamic of Sam as Dean's kid, by proxy.

(But Cas? From the get-go, Mary's doling out those incredibly high protector expectations, and it brings out this side of her that's both demanding and abrupt. It's fascinating.)

///

Anyway, in season 12-13, Sam is tragically aware that he and Mary don't have the kind of rapport he craves. (Meanwhile, Dean and she are playing Words with Friends.) In The Big Empty, Sam seems aware of this, and he's actually pretty bitter about his inability to connect:

SAM: Yeah, but at least you had a relationship with Mom. I mean, who would she always call? Who did she look to for everything? You had something with her I never had! And now I’m just supposed to accept that I never will have it?

It won't be until after AU Earth that Mary starts to bond with Sam as an individual. She sees Sam as more of an adult after he starts leading the AU hunters and co-parenting Jack.

///

In Nightmare Logic, she opens up to him about Bobby. She has rightly deduced that Sam is not as sensitive as Dean is about John, so Sam is the one she can talk to about it:

MARY: Bobby's not open like your dad. SAM: Wait. Like my dad? MARY: Okay. At least he's not like your dad was when I knew him. SAM: Right. MARY: Bobby's got walls, big ones. I just don't know if I can do that if I even ever put myself out there again. (chuckles) I shouldn't be talking to you about this.

///

In Absence, we see a flashback of her being relieved that Sam has more in common with her now: "the parental guilt complex." It seems like the more Sam screws up, the more comfortable Mary gets with him.

This is because Sam's base instinct is to keep his emotions and mistakes abstract, analytical, and vague. It's hard to bond with him until you've gotten to know him well enough for him to share his actual mistakes with you.

In this flashback, Sam admits to not being there for Jack. It's funny, because it's the beginning of a pattern, because as was pointed out to me yesterday, Sam definitely wasn't there for Jack when Jack was soulless. (In fact, Sam ran everyone ragged on little-to-no-sleep. He had another Sammy breakdown, an echo of his season 8 nervous breakdown.)

What Sam is learning is that it's actually really hard to be there for others when you're going through stuff of your own. (Dean and Cas know this; and they try to drag themselves off "the bench" and be there, even when they're in shambles. Sam? Not as much.)

I suspect that this is another way Sam's going to rationalize John's neglectful parenting. Sam wasn't there for Jack because he was mission-focused on finding Dean, just like John was laser-focused on finding Azazel. (Luckily for Sam, Jack is raised by a village, with multiple parents.)

Of course, when she had things to deal with, Mary left, too. And it's okay for Sam to forgive her for that. I'm not saying that it's wrong for people to leave in order to deal with their shit.

It's just...hmmm. Difficult. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's worse than bad, and sometimes it's irreparable. Life is hard. You often let people down, even when you're trying your best. Sometimes, like with John, your own mental illness serves up your very worst.

Anyway, it's especially hard on the ones you love, because when you open up to them, you're showing them all the worst parts of yourself and your own weaknesses.

SAM: How's his training coming along? Mary: He's got heart. He'll get there. SAM: I feel bad. I've been so busy looking for Dean-- MARY: Sam, everyone here understands what you've been doing and what you've been putting yourself through. SAM: Yeah, I know, but Jack's been through a lot -- you know, losing his powers. And I haven't really been there for him. Sorry, Mom. I don't mean to lay all this on you. MARY: No. Are you kidding? It's nice knowing I'm not the only one with parental guilt. How much did the two of you go through when I wasn't there for you? And even when Amara brought me back and I got a second chance, things got complicated. I got complicated.   I'm just saying parenting is always a struggle. You always feel like you're failing, but then you look at them, and somehow, they're amazing. And somehow, (Mary holds Sam’s face as she speaks to him) they're literally the bravest, kindest, most heroic men on the planet.

///

In the same episode, we see more scenes of her, and we get a sense of her dynamic with each through these vignettes:

Mary sleeping on Dean's shoulder: This shows us that she relaxes around Dean and lets her walls completely down. She gets emotional support from Dean.

This one with Sam (above): she's opening up to him a little bit but when you step back, we see that she's still parenting him, even as she's busy sharing his load and parenting-training Jack. She's reassuring Sam and propping up his bruised confidence. She gives emotional support to Sam.

And finally, Cas: Cas is the one she actually calls for help on a hunt but admits to being a little afraid of (CAS: "Are you still afraid of me?") Interestingly, she covers up her fear by posturing a little around Cas, "It's just a scratch," and "it wasn't that close." It's cute. Still, she gets physical support from Cas. Here, we see she calls him for help, not her boys. In season 12, it was Cas to whom she first revealed her doubts during her bouts of insomnia.

///

[wisteria-lodge]

snake primary + bird secondary

Hi, I'm here to submit a SortMe, but take your time getting to it, it's no rush ^^ To start, I'm pretty sure I'm a Snake Primary with a Badger model. As a kid in school I was quite a stereotypical Badger, kind, openminded, helpful etc. but I was still kind of a spoiled brat (3rd and last child). My family bowed to my whims many times, and I threw many tantrums... in fact, I was very kind only outside the house, and quite selfish with my family.

It's kind of interesting that you had SUCH different presentations at home and at school, and are so self-aware about it. It's kind of making me think Actor Bird, because those personas are situation specific. School!You and Home!You.

Another note is that I never had a proper best friend(s) in school or anything, I was the type to be on the fringe of the social circles, knowing most people,

That also kind of makes me think Actor Bird: a different "you" for every group? And if you were a Courtier Badger, which is possible, I would have expected you to befriend *groups* more. But here it's all about individuals.

being friends with some, but never really super close. I was always jealous of that.

I see where you're getting Snake primary, this does sound like a primary thing.

Anyway, as I got older, depressed, burned out, my Badger burned and trying to help everyone in the world became too much. I thought at first I was a Burned Badger Primary, but I realise that while I do sometimes feel guilty about not helping every person in need, I get more satisfaction helping myself or my own friends. Genuinely the things I can excuse my friends for has sometimes lost me other friends. So I think I'm a pretty solid Snake Primary.

Yeah, I'll second that. Maybe at one point you thought you *should* be a Badger primary, or were *supposed* to be a Badger primary. But Snakes are practical, and you don't seem to be cut-up over any of that.

The Secondary gets hard. Depression and lack of purpose, motivation

... and People, I'll bet

made me burn and for a long time I didn't know what my Secondary was. Now I think I may be a little Bird/Badger, but I've associated that with studying/hard work so much it felt alien to me. But while schoolwork has always been a chore, for fandom stuff I can go nuts making quizzes and spreadsheets for innocuous things most people don't even care about. I run a video posting account and when I'm saving videos to post, I'll sort them into categories despite the fact that I usually don't go through the categories later at all?

You know what Bird secondaries like? Categorizing, organizing, preparing.

I've made a dozen different accounts for different fandom purposes—bots, roleplay, etc. I'm not sure if any of this helps actually, but I feel like it's the only way to see my Secondary LOL.

It's Bird :)

All those descriptions about Birds gathering a billion different skills for opportune times never resonated with me, though. So I was never sure if I was really Bird.

I think you're probably defining 'skill' differently than I am. To me, running dozens of blogs, knowing how to write bots, quizzes, roleplay, make spreadsheets... those are absolutely skills.

Maybe it's just Badger? I do like to have people around me to rely on, but that might be a social anxiety thing.

Or a human thing.

I suppose in a problem I tend to default to asking friends for advice before I google stuff. Okay so maybe I am a Badger Secondary? Damn did I just answer my own SortMe? Um... well anyway I hope you can help me figure it out/confirm it haha. Thanks for reading this far.

You're a Loyalist primary, and it sounds like you've got people now (which is good.) I would be surprised if you didn't talk with them. But the actual evidence and descriptions of problem solving... have all been Bird. Your secondary was Burnt, and I could see how that could make you distrust/devalue it. You might absolutely have a Badger model, or maybe the Bird is a model you built *because* you burnt out the Badger (that absolutely happens.) But I'm just saying what I see.

[consequencesofargentdawn]

i do pity korkrag/krezha they are clearly someone who has undergone a lot of problems and internalised mental health issues but COAD is right to say not to use it as an excuse/shield for behaving out of order or escaping criticism

hopefully they'll get the help they need and stay away from people in the pcu trying to poison their mind with venom the last people you want to be taking mental health advice from is 'go drink bleach' coalburnt and 'im literally here to troll you' tehya

not hard to tell that yet again COAD has their finger on the pulse and has the bullies of argent dawn foaming

Never let a chance pass up to peddle the far-right tier conspiracy theorist madness, even someone's own vulnerable state of health. We would say this is a new low even for Coalburnt but at this point he just randomly points at anyone who disagrees with him, declares them to be "evil CoAD" or "Lukas" (still waiting on who this one is) and starts screaming at the sky until Blizzard puts him in a timeout again.

But onto the main point, Krezha certainly does need to step away from Argent Dawn completely, perhaps even WoW in general as it is showing a highly negative effect on them. Though we categorically deny their claims that we do not "allow people to change". Of course we do, we have seen many, many people on our server own up to their mistakes, acknowledge them and improve on them. The likes of Valley, Vaxir, Wrall, Sigtryggr and the countless former PCU members who have reached out to us and given us material on their yet to atone members.

There is nothing objectively wrong informing the population of our community about fascists and bigots hiding in plain sight and actively allowing the persecution of minorities. It is unfortunate that even as one of these minorities, Krezha feels compelled to defend Vorold/Slock, someone who has been irrefutably shown to show misogynistic, racist and xenophobic attitudes and because we stick to our principles we are now regarded by them as "the bad guy" and "worse than the PCU". Of course Krezha is allowed their opinion, we do not care on a deeper level if people like us or dislike us. Argent Dawn will never be able to recover to its pre-PCU days until people acknowledge that server wide attempts by cabals of authoritarian fetishists to control what people do with their own time on our server, bullying and belittling those who do not have a place for their own voice to be heard.

It is in our very name. Consequences. We are here to ensure there are some form of consequence for those who think that because they have a big group of friends backing them they can bully whoever and whenever they like. CoAD is always going to be here to stand up for those being abused by bully boy circles. No amount of fashy sympathising malding will change that.

Now we do not usually feel the need to say this, as it is obvious, but out of respect of Krezha, we insist our dear readers do not bother them, do not poke or message them or in any way trouble them. As we have said many times before, our purpose here is to inform people, not to cause further harm and harassment. We hope that Krezha makes a speedy recovery and finds a place where they are happy and unburdened by troubles.

[britcision]

I mean hear me out: we like a “things work out for Danny AU”

I like a “chaos reigns AU”

Danny declares a dramatic “well FUCK YOU I’m going on vacation!”

The other ghosts, whose primary motivation for wrecking shop is to throw down with Phantom more than half the time… no longer have that motivation

Amity Park quiets down for months

The Box Ghost is still wandering through and unleashing temporary boxy mayhem, but Val’s got this on lock. She can handle him any day of the week, twice on Sundays

No Skulker, no Johnny and Kitty, no Cujo, no Plasmius, no Youngblood or Spectra coming through

This is the most normal the city has been in years

(Mayor Vlad Masters hasn’t been seen in a while because he’s in preemptive soup time out but that’s fine there’s no disasters to need a mayor)

Danny, on his way to Io with Dani, doesn’t know to care except that occasionally Skulker is still showing up in space to try and hunt him and will tell him how Val’s doing

The Justice League aren’t sure why everything is so quiet, but they’re so proud of new member Red Huntress who is holding it together So Well. So Well she deserves a break and a retreat with the Teen Titans to bond with other young heroes!

Red Huntress, who knows full fucking well she did not do anything to scare anyone off, is suspicious as shit

Phantom left her a communicator to call if she needs him (whether they’re officially allies or not) but this much quiet? This can only mean one thing

Cuz see… the usual rogue’s gallery show up to fuck with Danny specifically. He staked a claim over the whole city that basically said “come on if you think you’re hard enough” and has been throwing down since

(And ghost socialization is all about punch punch anyway they’re just being polite by raising the stakes)

You know who doesn’t show up to fuck with just Danny, who tend to have their own plans and motivations?

The fucking heavy squad

Vortex sneaks back in

Or Undergrowth makes another go at a green makeover since the mayor’s gone

Or Nocturn decides that really this Teen Titans meet and greet should really really really be a slumber party

Or, worst of all for the JL, Clockwork decides they’ve had enough fun and it’s time they appreciate just what Danny was doing for them

And suddenly Val’s going from wrangling occasional ectopusses and Boxy to a world ending level event and when the hell did a ghost get this strong, this one came by once before and it wasn’t this bad, what changed???

Did someone else stop it last time???

Sam and Tucker are more than happy to scream “yea you fuckwits, PHANTOM DID”, with recorded evidence cuz they’ve been having a very annoying few months of people suddenly unsure if the League was right and it’s good Phantom left?

The full Justice League pile in to try and help and it’s escalating and escalating and JL Dark swan in to ask where the fuck the Protection spirit went, who fucked this up, and for once Constantine gets to be the one telling everyone else off

(Cuz yeah he didn’t read the update adding Amity Park to the roster but it’s a fucking Infinite Realms site, the regular league had no goddamn business trying to categorize it at all)

Val’s communicator is taking longer and longer to reach Danny because That’s How Physics And Space Travel Work, and they’ve gotten far enough now that Danny will hear they’re in trouble in about a week - way too late

So Constantine raids the Nasty Burger, slaps out the world’s ugliest summoning circle, and summons Danny directly back to remind him once more How Physics And Space Work Why The Hell Did You Use Electronic Communication

(Bonus points if Dani is left behind and has to come back on her own with Skulker for a vengeance tour)

Danny, still salty, asks why the hell the League is asking a rogue for help

Shazam gives him an intentionally awful “We’re Sorry Our Coworkers Suck” card that he made all of the regular Justice League sign while Constantine made burger monuments (it’s almost as tall as Danny)

Danny can appreciate the bit and also another secret magical girl

Kicks some ass and reminds the ghosts exactly why he’s the most fun to fuck around with

And then someone points out that they had basically no ghost attacks while Danny was gone, if he’s not a villain then what the hell?

(Someone else points out that Batman’s rogues also usually go quiet when he’s gone, fuckface, that’s actually really normal they tend to worry shit’s gonna hit the fan)

Danny learns for the first time in his not-life that the other ghosts all thought he was in on it this whole time and negotiates for a goddamn schedule and weekends off

Happily ever after, all solved, everyone goes home…

Just in time for Johnny and Kitty’s bi-monthly break up and hey that Red Robin kid was real cute

It’s not always only about bugging Danny

Danny’s gonna let Val handle them until the JL paperwork comes through though

I'd love to see a dpxdc story where the Justice League knows about Amity Park and the Ghosts the whole time, and does think the ghosts are rogues to be addressed. Doesn't agree with the GIW, maybe doesn't even know about them? THE IMPORTANT PART.

The Red Huntress is the only active vigilante in Amity Park, according to the JL. Phantom is marked as one of her rogues. Maybe the Fentons even are marked as rogues from all the property damages and random shooting/sliming of citizens. Valarie is the only person successfully taking care of the ghosts, masking and suiting up in the classic vigilante way the whole time.

[roleplaybook]

Hi!! I hope this is the place to ask!

An issue I've ran into on tumblr now that I've recently moved here is that I can't find roleplayers my age in the circles I am around currently.

I am 17, and from what I see most of the people in my age bracket are in more of the "non-literate" RP sphere (the one with the asterisks for actions is the best i can explain it, I guess) as well as ask blogs, but that sort of RP isn't really it for me personally. I stick to full literate, multiple paragraphs with graphics sort of RP myself! I just moved here from discord RP since I like the style of RP here more, if that adds.

Most of the RP community here is pretty grown in comparison to the discord RP community and I have nothing against it! RP is a great hobby for everyone, but adults want to explore more mature themes which ofcourse are just not for me. This makes it pretty hard to find people around age to write with ("pretty hard" as in I have found no one really yet in my threeish months of being here, only an adult who is comfortable roleplaying with me and two other adults who are sporadically active so I haven't had much opportunity to RP with them).

So, I guess that is sort of my question, how can I find people my age around here more easily?

Hello, and thanks so much for sending in an ask to this fledgling advice blog! ❤

Good on you for being upfront about your age. I remember the struggle of trying to find RPers in my age group back in the Jurassic period - in particular, writers who wanted to write.

The good news is, they're out there!

I know you specified that you like the Tumblr scene, but I am going to provide a couple different platform options on the off-chance another works better for you.

But! For starters, Tumblr:

Are you posting ads?

Throwing an age range somewhere near the beginning of your RP advertisements is common practice. You might also specify what age range you're comfortable with, personally, such as 16-18.

Also bear in mind that Tumblr only searches through the first five tags; the rest are for categorization/organization. So, when you do post advertisements, the first five should be the tags people might search. Fandom and literacy level are good to have toward the beginning of the taglist.

I hope they don't mind the shoutout, but @roleplayfinder is a great resource. This blog helps roleplayers find each other, and they tag age ranges (as well as require the writer to specify age). They have an #under eighteen tag you can search through.

It can also help to search tags like #16+ RP on Tumblr or roleplay seeking blogs. Someone over, say, 25, will likely specify 18+ or 21+, so searching for 16+ or 17+ RPers is likely to help you net writers in your age group.

The more community you build here on Tumblr, the more you'll be able to get your blog out there to relevant roleplayers. Mutuals tend to share one another's advertisements and promos on the site, so once you accumulate a few writing buddies, they'll hopefully help you get your blog out there to more folks in your age and post length demographic.

As for Discord - it's actually my favorite platform for RP! It can be so difficult to find the good stuff, though, and it seems like you run into a lot of reaaaally young writers, rapid-fire and chat style RP, and overall just not what you're looking for. In my experience, sites like Disboard.org aren't the best. While tons of servers advertise "semi-literate" or even "literate" in their tags, you find they're anything but upon joining.

There's a little more curation on RP finding hub servers.

Most I know are 21+ or 25+, but there's one I really like that does accept writers in the 15+ range. It's Roleplay Central, and it used to be an RP "matchmaking" website. It's very well organized and well-run, and I think worth checking out if you still have your Discord account. Here's the join link:

Finally, forum RP tends to err on the novella side. I believe it can be challenging to find forums that aren't 21+ - especially in the Jcink sphere - but there are well-established spaces that cater to SFW RP and permit minors.

One great example is RPNation (https://www.rpnation.com/). They don't allow anyone to solicit sexual RP on the site, meaning you can write comfortably with adults on site if you feel comfortable doing so.

As a caveat, they of course can't monitor what happens off-site. People aren't supposed to solicit sexual RP there at all, period, but of course it still can happen.

I hope any of this was helpful! I know you're looking to find RP buddies here on Tumblr, but I think the other platforms are also worth exploring.

I'll also note that I only scratched the surface pointing you toward the three specific links. There are more like them! So, for example, if you really want to stick to Tumblr, you can find blogs similar to rpfinder that can help you connect with the kind of writing partners you're seeking.

Best of luck to you!

[enneagram-reblogs]

Countertype Series: Type Five.

From NineTypesCo by Steph Barron Hall.

Meet Toby! (@tobyfrigillana) In this interview, she shares what it's like to be a Sexual Five.

Defining the Sexual Five Subtype:

Sexual (SX) Fives are often more emotionally expressive and artistic than the other Five subtypes. This doesn't necessarily mean that all SX5s have to be creative in a specific sense, but they may view whatever they do as an art form. They seek someone who they can build a deep, bonded relationship with, and they enjoy the trust and connection provided within that sphere. Sometimes SX Fives merge with their significant other, which can seem 9ish. SX5s also tend to be openly passionate about their interests, and they enjoy close, 1:1 relationships.

Did you ever mistype?

"I have never mistyped. After reading and researching about each type, it was pretty obvious to me what type I was. However, I've noticed that other people will be uncertain of my type or will assume I'm a different number when they're first getting to know me.

"This is especially true if they get to know me in a more intimate setting, where I'm comfortable talking to people 1:1 and truly getting to know them."

How would you describe the SX5 subtype? What is it like for you to move through life as a Sexual 5?

"I would describe my subtype as a paradox of sorts. I want to keep to myself, but I'm almost passionately curious about people. My particular stacking is sexual/self-pres. There's often a lot of internal conflict for me when it comes to relationships. I want to be loved and cared for, but at the same time, I need to feel free and independent.

"When it comes to friendships, I have different 'tiers' that my friendships can be categorized in. Each tier has access to certain information about me, the top tier with the most 'restricted/secretive information' about me is reserved for a significant other only. It takes a while for someone to be a close, intimate friend of mine. But the fact that I don't have a large group of friends doesn't bother me.

"Honestly speaking, I really don't care how others perceive me, and feel no need to 'stick up for myself' or convince people to see me in a certain light. The only opinions I truly care about are those who are in my inner circle or 'upper tier.'

"Fives are stereotypically known to focus their intellect on understanding and accumulating knowledge. I deeply identify with this, but instead of focusing most of my attention on science or maths or literature, a lot of my accumulation of knowledge has to do with people.

"When I meet people for the first time, my subconsious immediately begins to categorize them. Upon my second or third interaction with a person, I can often accurately 'file' their personality in my brain."I don't mean this in a judgmental way. Rather, I try my best to understand people so that I know how I can best communicate with them, relate with them, and support them."

What is the biggest challenge you face in your life related to your subtype?

"I would say one of the biggest challenges of being a sexual 5w4 is wanting to be known and understood, but not always knowing HOW to do that. It's so much easier to get to know other people. However, when it comes to my turn to open up, it's very hard to break the innate need to be 'private.' It's like…I want to be glass (transparent) when I'm with others, but it almost feels…unnatural. So I act more like a mirror when I'm first getting to know people. I tend to allow people to 'reflect' on themselves, and connect to me (or rather, connect to the parts of themselves they see in me!).

"In this process, I evaluate if I think this person and I have a special connection or not. If we do, I think that's when I stop being a mirror, and actually become glass."

What do you think is the biggest difference between yourself and other Type Fives?

"Perhaps I can come off as a bit more intense than other Fives. A little more emotional, a little more dramatic… Oftentimes more artistic (thanks to my wing 4). Always kind of between wanting to draw close to people, but also needing to preserve my autonomy.

"I also think I can be more confrontational than other Fives, but only if I think it will preserve or further a close relationship."

Is there anything else you'd like people to know about your subtype?

"Patience & open-mindedness is key to getting to know people like me. We don't always know how to identify or articulate our emotions in real-time.

"It takes us a little bit of time to process! To the partners of sexual 5s: when we fall in love, it is deep, intense, and loyal. There is a strong drive to become very close to you, however we still have the need to feel free and independent."

[hazbinned]

Angel was seeing it, and he was almost hysterical about it. He'd been standing at the edge of the dance floor, alone and sipping the new glass of wine that he had grabbed from the tray of a roaming waiter, when he'd glanced back at the pair for the first time and witnessed as Alastor 'fell' into Pentious' arms. Something about it looked unnatural, and the spider hadn't totally bought it— but he had arched an eyebrow, for what it was worth.

Nevertheless, he thought it was interesting enough to keep watching, and he was so glad that he had. What happened next had him spit his wine at the nearest sinner (oops!) and grip onto the wall. The two of them were hugging— well, it was mostly Pentious doing the hugging while Alastor stood there, until he spied the Radio Demon's hands moving up and curling around the reptile's back. No way! Angel fished his phone out of his chest fluff, hurrying straight to the camera setting. No one would ever believe it!

That was when Angel noticed that Sir Pentious' beaked mask was pointed in his direction. He couldn't see what expression the snake was making, so he just flashed him a ginormous grin, winked, and bobbed his head— giving a thumbs up with every hand he had, save for the one in which he was holding the phone.

... Like Pentious moments prior, Alastor's eyes were also shut.

The Radio Demon wasn't looking at Angel Dust. Angel Dust wasn't even on his mind.

Alastor felt so, so incredibly strange... and he was terrified.

Terrified that he liked it.

"Trying to make sure I don't collapse...?" he murmured, shifting positions just enough for the top of his head to rest beneath Pentious' chin. "You're a touch more chivalrous than I am. I would have dropped me! ... On purpose!"

He squeezed him, tightly, and pinned his red ears back so he would fit better. A pitchy sound escaped him, but it was hard to categorize— it was somewhere between a chuckle, a whimper, and a hum.

"I'm still dizzy," Alastor said, "It must be the intoxication. Don't let go yet."

From that measly chalice of blood cocktail? Lies! He wasn't feeling anything from it. He wasn't even buzzed-- but he should have been! Alastor would have welcomed anything to justify this, other than his own stupidity coming out to rear its head!

He could already see it now: he would avoid Pentious and Angel all day tomorrow to avoid the humiliation!

Hell, he'd avoid them all week if he had to!

"But I think that makes sense..." he said, circling back around to the laws of the game. "It's creative that it can beat it without 'beating' it."

His grip on Pentious got tighter, somehow. A deer constricting a snake— how humorous!

"I like that very much."

Pentious smirked, having almost anticipated this philosophical debate. It was the ever-lasting controversy of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

"It's because the paper takes a totally different approach!" he said with a throaty chuckle. "You see, the paper knows it can't injure the rock, so it- Oh?"

Alastor's feigned weakness cut off the thought for a bit, replacing it with concern, then eye-widening, cheek-flustering surprise and finally tenderness. Then the adorable ruse, the chin on his shoulder, the casually quipped words made the thought return and it became pristine, an epiphany that begged to escape Pentious' lips. And he let it.

"...So it doesn't even try. It... it just wraps around the rock instead. Keeps it in. Even though the rules tell it to 'beat' it," he said more quietly, speaking right into the ear closest to his mouth. Maybe he could be a bit daring, too?

Pentious' arms lowered to pull Alastor even closer and enveloped him in a hug that wasn't found in any proper ballroom manual. But this didn't need a choreography. This was fine as it was. They were still spinning, they were still swaying to the rhythm. It was still a dance.

Pentious closed his upper eyes for a moment, letting the ones over his tail make sure they wouldn't bump into anyone. He didn't want to concentrate on anything but this impossible, wonderful feeling. All the splendour of the hall might have as well not existed. Only Alastor did.

When he opened his eyes after a moment that felt like forever, they darted the slightest bit to the side to search for his friend's. Was Angel seeing this? If Pentious' eyes met his in this dizzying moment, maybe it would make him believe this was really happening.

[thewritingstar]

The Scars That We Share

I had a lot of fun writing for the reverse bang hosted by @ftguildevents 

I had the pleasure of writing a fic inspired by @blueoceanarts amazing artwork. I hope you all enjoy! You can find the art here!!

Pairing: Gruvia 

Warnings: Mentions of blood, scars and pain. 

---

She stares at the ice wall before her. It's massive and sparkles with an unsteady glow. This magic is much different than her beloved. It doesn't hold the same strength and grace as the ice that he creates. There is a darkness that lurks inside the fractals.

There's only so much that she can do. Heat is what she needs in order to burst through the wall and help Gray on the other side. She has no clue how he's holding up and she begins to fear for the worst.

The wall had grown and circled around the men in the center. She has no choice but to go through. Although she loved the combination of their water and ice magic, there are certain limits that the both of them have.

Juvia glances towards her hands and then back to the wall.

“Juvia has to break through.” She says to herself. But there is a fear bubbling up inside of her. She knows very well that it will take an incredible amount of force to demolish even the smallest hole. Perhaps a tsunami is not enough.

Time is of the essence and there's not much room for waiting. Her hands catch her attention again and this time the fear of realization runs through her. On each of her palms holds faint scars. Scars from her childhood of over doing her power and causing herself inattentional danger.

She hadn’t meant to do it and vowed to never push herself to that extent, but now isn’t a time to reminisce. She needs to help Gray.

Slowly she takes a step back and throws off her coat. She takes a steady breath before aiming at the wall, praying that it will work.

“Melted Geyser!” She screams and sends a sharp water blast through the ice.

She hears the crack of the ice. It begins to splinter as boiling water forces its way through the thick walls. As the hole begins to appear, her lungs cave and she lets out a trembling scream. The water she emits runs at a temperature hotter than what humans are capable of obtaining. She pushes her body to the limits, tears blurring her vision as she continues with the boiling rampage.

She's entering a point of danger. Her body can only sustain so much heat. She feels like she is eveaporting. Her body twisting and begging for the cooling sensation she naturally has but it doesn’t give. Her knees buckle and she can see the light coming from the other side.

The only thing in her mind is saving Gray as her vision blurs.

–

Gray glares at the man before him. Another ice wizard but working for a dark guild.

“Murdering innocent people for power? You disgust me.” Gray spats at him. He couldn’t stand people like him. Cruel and evil who mock and prey on the powerless.

The man does nothing but laugh. The ice wall surrounding them makes Gray’s skin crawl.

He got separated from Juvia a while ago and he knows she's on the other side, he just has to get to her now. He can’t move or rush to break the wall either. He has to be patient and hope that she can get to him first, for now he can keep the man preoccupied.

He lunges at the man but he's too quick and forces Gray back with spikes of ice.

“Juvia, come on. Where are you?” He mutters to himself. As long as she's okay that's fine, but back up would be nice. “Stupid ice wall.” He says as he prepares another attack.

There's a rumbling from the wall that makes them both stop and turn. A treamble runs through the earth and shakes them. Gray’s smile appears knowing that this has to be Juvia’s doing.

He then hears it. The sound of the wall cracking and he sees the seam running up the wall. The dark ice wizard turns to try and reinforce it but Gray hits him hard with an ice blast to the back.

He watches the man fall to his knees, and just when he is going to get in another blow, he hears Juvia. His smile drops from his face.

It's a scream he can only categorize as brutal and possibly fatal. A type of sound that is squeezed from the lungs and bruises the vocal cords. A sound he never wants to hear again.

But as he turns and watches Juvia fall to her knees, her scream is on repeat in his head. He forgets the man and sends a cascade of ice towards him as he runs to her. His heart hammers from his chest and he can see her eyes fluttering and trying to stay open.

“JUVIA '' He shouts and the water that was blasting in the air comes crashing down like a rainstorm as he reaches her. His knees scraping against the earth as he catches her torso and pulls her to his chest.

Gray doesn’t care about the way the man behind him whimpers in pain and runs the other way. He doesn;t care about the mission or the reward, only about his girlfriend in his arms.

“Juvia?” He brushes her blue locks from her face. Her body is like ice but her chest still rises and falls and he can feel her faint breath against his skin. “What happened?” He whispers as he searches around for an answer.

His eyes zone in on her hands. Blood drips from her palms as if something has sliced them open but there's nothing but the wall of ice near them. Unlike the rest of her body, her hands burn. It's as if they have their own personal thermostat that's cranked way too high for anyone's health and he holds them to help cool them down.

Slowly he rises and holds her in his arms.

“Gray-sama?” Juvia mumbleds against his chest.

“I got you, just hold on. We’ll be at the hotel soon.” He says and her eyes shut as she falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

—-

By the time Juvia wakes, night has fallen.

She sits up, her head slightly pounding but she feels alright.

“Gray?” She calls to him and notices that he has fallen asleep in one of the plush chairs. She stands and walks to the bathroom and begins to wash her hands. Her body has mended most of the damage on her palms but a present scar is still there.

She feels a warmth behind her and looks up in the mirror to Gray hugging her from behind. He places a kiss to the side of her head and she turns in his arms to peck him on the lips.

“You worried me.” Gray says.

She can tell he's holding back on his anger and it pains her. “Juvia didn’t mean to scare you. She had no other choice.”

He sighs and walks back to the bed, flopping onto his back. “I know, but, what even was that move?”

“Melted Geyser. When Juvia was a little girl, she got very upset one day. Somehow she was able to change the temperature of her water, but she wanted to see how far she could go. Juvia has no problem with the cold, of course she can’t freeze her own water but she can boil it.”

Gray chuckled. “I know that. I was once water locked in a boiling bubble.”

She rolls her eyes and playfully smacks his arm. “Anyways, Juvia wanted to see. She practiced and was able to get a small boil going. But on the day she got upset, she let out a cry and the water temperature escalated greatley that it ended up hurting her. Since then, Juvia has been careful on how hot she makes the water. If not, then what happened today occurs.”

Gray sat up and looked at her hands. They were much better than they were hours ago but it still made him feel anxious to know that this could happen again. And he knew she wouldn’t hesitate either.

“Does it hurt now?” He asked and she shrugged.

“It stings a little but it's nothing that Juvia can’t handle. Once we return home, Juvia is going to go see Wendy.”

She can tell that he still isn’t satisfied.

“Gray, my love, Juvia is okay.”

“You got hurt because of me.” Gray frowned.

“A small price for your safety, they will heal.” Juvia shrugged.

“I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Juvia knows, but she would do it again and again. Do not pretend that you wouldn’t risk yourself for Juvia so there is no need to think that she would not do the same.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’d risk my life for you.”

“As would I.”

Gray takes her hand. “Ice make flurry.” Suddenly a small cloud appears and snows lightly on her palms.

She has always taken a liking to his magic, as if it was a phenomenon of its own. The flurries hit her skin and provide a sweet relief.

“Scars are not always bad. They can remind us of what we have and what we treasure in life.”

She lifts the edge of shirt up to look at her stomach where a fine scar lays. Looking at it, she can still remember clearly of the ice chains and her sacrifice. In the same breath, Gray reaches to his own matching scar. Although that was one of the scariest moments of his life, he's not sure if he would trade it.

He had a few scars from when he was younger. If you looked closely, you might be able to see them but he has started to forget about those marks. He once had a small red line near his eye where Lyon had accidently hit him. A few where he was practicing with his magic without Urs supervision and he wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way for his ice spikes.

Although most of his scars had left, there were only a few that remained and caught his attention. The stomach scar that he shared with Juvia, a mark on his calf from Erza’s sword, and even a mark here and there from the many fights with Natsu. Each had a history and a story behind them.

“What are you thinking about?” Juvia asked to pull him from his thoughts.

“All the times I got dinged up as a kid.” He smiled. “I once sprained my arm jumping off some stairs I made. Ur was so mad at me. To be fair, I thought that the snow would be a lot softer.” He turned to look at her, never getting tired at the way her dark blue eyes captivated him. “Also about what you said. Scars aren’t bad. They keep us grounded.” His hand found its way to his guild mark where underneath each peck was a faded surgery scar from years ago, scars that he was the most proud of.

She places her hand over his, a beaming look in her eyes. “Everytime Juvia looks at you, she falls in love again.”

“And everyday you get more beautiful.” He smiles.

Her own smile gets taken over by a small yawn.

“I think we should lay down, you’ve had quite the day.” Gray watched as she tried to suppress another yawn.

“Juvia doesn’t know what Gray-sama is talking about, she slept for hours.”

He only laughed and fluffed up the pillows before laying down and Juvia followed. She rested her head on his shoulder as he started to trace patterns on her arm.

“Thank you.” Gray whispered.

Juvia turned to look at him. “For what?”

“Saving me. Protecting me. Loving me.” He said.

He could see the slight pink rise to her cheeks. Even after all the time they have spent together, he has never failed to make butterflies in her stomach or blush.

“You will never have to thank Juvia. You have her heart till the end of time.” She kisses his cheek. “She will always be there by your side, scars and all.”

“I love you Juvia.” Gray whispers as he kisses her softly.

---

Had a lot of fun with this, hope you enjoyed! Make sure to go look at the amazing art!!!

[wonjaekook]

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard.  “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hi. I'd really appreciate your help with typing me. I'm pretty sure I use Ne and Si but I can't decide on whether I'm a Fi or a Ti user.

Some info:

- I've always struggled with my emotions. They always had more power over me than I had over them. I'm specifically talking about sadness and anxiety. However, it takes a lot to make me express anger and to lash out at people (I can't recall when I last did that).

- If I could I'd sit all day and think. Real world and physical experiences don't mean much to me. I feel really uncomfortable using Se for example.

- I struggle to form strong opinions on anything and I'm pretty indecisive. I'm not afraid to honestly share my point of view though.

- I was and am very self aware. I used to think that other people must be very, very stupid and I'm definitely better because I present myself as smart (now I think that this was a really bad way of seeing things and I've definitely matured).

- I think a lot. I love systematizing and cathegorizing things like social circles, people and new information I learn. I also have a great desire to make sense of everything I stumble upon. I have a lot of theories about pretty much everything.

- I can be very harsh and negative sometimes. Often I forget that my words do affect other people and I feel bad for it.

- I think I understand other people pretty well but I do catch myself on a) listening to people only to feel better about myself and b) understanding them through my own experiences.

- It takes a lot for me to decide I dislike someone. I'm not very judgmental about people and I try to understand their point of view. I think that everyone is different and they shouldn't be judged for it.

- Self expression is hard for me (I rewrote this ask countless times) and I struggle to communicate clearly sometimes.

- I'm not too much of a leader. Managing people is hard and I don't feel comfortable enforcing anything on anyone.

After writing that I think that Fi is more obvious but I'm not sure.

Hi anon! I actually think you are an INTP and don't have Fi.

Based on your general preference to thinking over action and not feeling very tied to the physical world, coupled with indecision, high Ne seems very likely. From the description here, you sound fairly introverted as well.

A lot of this can either be attributed to general behaviors for anyone, might be specific to you but not MBTI-specific (eg: anxiety, being negative sometimes); or is a bit too subjective to type (unless someone actively demonstrates self-awareness I can corroborate, it's really hard to judge someone's own self-assessment), but the following, to me, indicate Ti over Fi:

Difficulty forming strong opinions. Fi doms can be indecisive over action but they often have fairly strong ideas of what they like and dislike. They also tend to develop judgments of other people fairly easily; while many Fi users are quite open-minded, they also tend to have strong boundaries and "live and let live" doesn't mean they don't have their deeply felt preferences.

Arrogance specifically tied to seeing one's self as smarter is something far more common in immature thinkers (note: not tied to whether they're ACTUALLY smarter; it's just that doing this is something I see more in high Ti and Te users, myself included).

Systemizing, categorizing, and theorizing to understand everything whether or not it's necessary is usually considered one of the hallmarks/most common themes among high Ti users.

Feelers are often much more comfortable with self-expression.

So: my guess is you're an INTP, but perhaps a 6 or 9 eneagram rather than a 5 and therefore may not have fit some of the more aggressively 5 enneatype descriptions.

[fioras-resolve]

So, i've been sitting on this post for a few days, I feel like there were some things I left out here. Part of it's worrying that people would get the wrong idea, but also that "it says something but i don't know what" is just a lazy analysis on its own. I analyze games, it's what I fuckin' do. So let's get analytical.

Towards the end of season 2, I compiled data about who plays which character online. You can get this data by yourself, by just looking at the rankings, going by character, and hitting up to go to the bottom. Basically, this is a count of how many people have played each character at some point in online ranked this month. I've put that data into this spreadsheet here, and I also included data on what percentage of the total each character gets, and categorized them into popularity tiers of about equal player count.

You can see that Bridget is in 4th place, right above Baiken and right below Ramlethal. Testament is in 10th, between May and Sin. Speaking from experience, I know quite a few people who bought Strive because of Bridget. And that's true for a lot of characters, it's true for Testament to some extent, but like. Bridget's above Baiken, months after either of them had been released. Testament's reveal was hype in its own way, but that hype was mostly in-community from people who had already been playing Guilty Gear. Bridget hype transcended the series itself.

So like, I was there when Testament was announced for Strive. I didn't have the game yet, my hands were full with +R, but I remember the vibe of the community at the time. It was equal parts GGXX players happy and scared to see such a powerful threat return, and people from Xrd or new to Strive who were mainly struck by how hot Testament is. Their reception since then has mostly been from people who don't play Testament bitching about fighting Testament. Alas, such is the fate of the zoner.

Bridget, on the other hand, was different. Because Bridget's popularity already transcended the Guilty Gear franchise. She was famous in weeb circles as one of the notable crossdresser characters of the 2000s. And while she was treated weirdly both by the fanbase and the game, her inclusion was genuinely a good thing for the Guilty Gear series. I'm not gonna go into detail on trap discourse here, because I don't walk in those circles, but it is genuinely nice to have gender non-conforming people in your world, and for them to just be people. She was the second most requested character in Japan for Xrd Revelator, and in everybody's top ten for Season 2 of Strive. There was hype for her before she was even announced. (Also if you want to hear more about Bridget's history and significance now go to this video by RickiHirsch it's a good one and where i got the history from here)

Even before Bridget came out (both as trans and into Strive) we all knew that her return would be... fraught. Even if she was just a femboy, it's very hard for gamers and weebs to be normal about gender non-conforming people. And when she was announced, it was unclear whether she actually was? Like, it did take some prying to get a confirmation that she is, in fact, a trans woman now. I mean, not even confirmation, that was already in the game. We talk about poor reading comprehension on Tumblr, I have never seen worse comprehension than from the people desperately trying to convince themselves that Trans Bridget Isn't Real.

And like, backlash like this will always make people defensive and rally around your shit more, I do think that was a part of it? But saying that own its own is ignoring the sheer joy that was in the air through all of this. I had issues with how her reveal was handled in Strive, but for a lot of trans women, this was genuinely a great moment. She comes out openly as a girl, she's got that dysphoria hoodie and bearish blahaj equivalent, and her theme song about overcoming dysphoria resonates with a lot of trans people, including me. This was, genuinely, a moment for explicit trans representation. And I'm all here for it.

But let's come back to Testament real quick. Their reveal, redesign, and story progression are all meaningful. Testament actually being a they/them androgyne is pretty cool, and fitting for their character, and seeing them just happy and living their life is a really amazing thing. It is, textually, doing a lot of the same things that Strive Bridget is doing. But, Testament is a less well-known character, who like Bridget didn't make it to Xrd, but whose popularity didn't transcend the series. I'm not trying to make this just "Testament wasn't as popular because Testament wasn't as popular" but it is a core factor.

The thing you need to understand is that in both +R and Strive, Testament's primary claim to fame is being fucking annoying to fight. They are the scourge of many a +R player, and their buffs in Strive have made them increasingly busted. This is a mechanical notoriety among people who play the game, but to put it bluntly, a large-scale fandom for a game needs to go beyond the people who play it. And while Testament was cool in +R and hot in Strive, they're up there with A.B.A and Order-Sol in the realm of legacy characters that old players want to play. I'm glad they god in, Strive needed some real zoning prior to Asuka. But I was surprised, and naturally so.

...So let's talk about the character reveal. As a concept.

Look. I'm a game designer. I can tell you all about how to balance a pvp game, design a character's kit, and make interesting mechanics. But none of that's why people care about Bridget, right? See, my biggest weakness is and always will be marketing. I just don't do well at making myself presentable. But marketing is the most important thing for a game making money, even more important than making a good game. Yes, word of mouth matters, but you're not gonna get those mouths if you don't have people's eyes on you. Yes, there are anecdotes of a game with minimal marketing budget beating the odds and becoming the talk of the town. But for every one of those, you don't see the hundreds of others that fell by the wayside, because you didn't see them.

So, character-based marketing has been around for ages in games, and in other media for much longer. They are the selling point in any roster-based game, from Pokemon to League of Legends to Genshin Impact. Unless your fighting game has some other really strong selling point, the characters are gonna be the big thing. Obviously Smash Bros has the biggest advantage, being a massive franchise made up of dozens of other massive franchises. Sakurai doesn't need to tell his audience who Sephiroth is, so he can focus on setting up the reveal and making the trailer cinematic.

But a game like Guilty Gear really struggles with this, because like, who the fuck is Goldlewis Dickinson? He was the least played character from that data I compiled, despite being the first DLC character. It's definitely a playstyle issue in part, same deal as Jack-O'. But sometimes a character just doesn't find its audience, or struggles to appeal to people.

And this, I suspect, is where Bridget comes in. She had a bunch of factors in her favor, but to make a bunch of trans people who didn't give a shit about Guilty Gear start to get into this series is an achievement. What made it work was that this was a genuine attempt at representation that resonated with people. I suspect that "representation marketing" will become a broadly adopted tactic, but whether they stick the landing is up to them. It's also worth noting Overwatch has been doing this since 2016, uh, badly? I know a lot of its characters are from cultures that hardly get represented in games, and that their being there is genuinely appreciated by people in those cultures, but like. You've probably already thought of an egregious example from Overwatch, I don't need to go into that here.

I do genuinely think that Bridget represents a sea change in how developers do character reveals and representation in general. Bridget was a proud message from Strive's developers that trans women are a real and welcome part of Guilty Gear. And I appreciate that. But let's also remember what came before, and what we can learn from that.

it kinda says something that testament was revealed in strive before bridget, complete with an androgynous look and they/them pronouns, but they weren't nearly as much of a Moment culturally as brisket was. i don't think it says a bad thing necessarily, but i think a lot about how The Character Reveal works as a marketing tool, and how bridget might have been a sea change for that

[navegandoaciegas]

California Bound.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, yandere, homeless!bucky, stalking, home intrusion, obsession, loneliness, sad!bucky, disturbing thoughts, dubcon? This is a dark fic.

Words: 4k

Summary: You’re so lonely and isolate in this city that if you died your neighbours wouldn’t even notice, your colleagues wouldn’t care and your boss would probably be pissed that you didn’t put in your two weeks notice before you went to hell. Bucky is tired of being alone and invisible and he knows you are too. He knows you can mend each other's’ hearts. 

A/N: set after CA:TWS. I’m not a native speaker so forgive me for any mistakes. Please let me know what you think and like and reblog if you liked it :) feedback is always appreciated!

In the unstable state of his scattered mind he can vividly recall a woman in a red dress. 

Some memories are long gone, some are fragmented, and although the lines of her face have been blurred by the passing of time and decades of electrocution, her plump red lips are permanently burned in the back of his brain.

When he closes his eyes, sometimes, he can still see her smile. 

Only she’s not smiling at him.

She’s smiling at Steve, his brother, his friend, his mission. 

Not even seventy years of brainwashing and torture could get rid of the sadness that filled him when she walked past and ignored him as if he wasn’t there, as if nothing else in that room existed except for Steve.

In his memory she doesn’t see him, and nobody has since. 

Perhaps it’s in that moment that he became no one, in that moment he was condemned to an existence of pain, loneliness and invisibility.

He’s a ghost that haunts the dirty streets of Philadelphia, crouched behind the dumpsters of dark alleys, begging the ones who sneer at him for spare change in train stations, lurking in the shadows to pickpocket the rich passerbys of the city.

  The hormone suppressants HYDRA forced on him are wearing off.

He can feel himself slipping, his most primal instincts violently surging back after 70 years of being repressed. His brain goes haywire when he catches sight of a pair of legs clad in a short skirt, the blood draining from his brain and travelling straight to his cock, and he wills himself to restrain his urges.

Modern women are so pretty, and they wear so little clothes. They don’t see him, of course, but he sees them. 

He sees those tight little dresses, those high heels, those long lashes and bright lips.

In another life he could have been like one of the rich boys he often spots outside of clubs, well dressed and well groomed, and maybe those pretty girls would have fawned over him too.

But not in this life.

In this life he’s been alone for 70 years, and his loneliness consumes him so intensely that some nights, when the cold is unbearable and the streets are empty, he wishes he hadn’t been born at all.

In this life he doesn’t shower and shave for weeks on end, and his hair is so greasy and matted that even if he wasn’t in hiding he’d have to wear a baseball cap anyways. When he looks at himself in the mirror he barely recognizes the handsome soldier in a blue uniform he saw at the Smithsonian. The man who stares back at him in the mirrors of soiled public restrooms has deep frown lines on his forehead, dark circles under dull eyes and a patch of white hair on his beard. Only the startling blue of his eyes has stood the test of time.

Those pretty girls wouldn’t spare him a second glance.

 He’s tired of the loneliness that plagues him. He just wishes to be seen.

He wants someone to look at him, really look at him, in anything other that pity or disgust. He wants someone who could hold him at night and take care of his battered soul.

He wants a companion to spend his time with, someone he could talk to; when was the last time he uttered a single word? When was the last time someone touched him tenderly?

You’d think after all he’s been through that being alone would be a walk in the park in comparison, but the emptiness that eats him alive is the most unbearable torture he’s ever been subjected to. It took HYDRA 20 years to break him, it only took the loneliness a couple of months.

  He just wants someone.

Someone who sees him.

And you do. You see him.

 He’s hunched over in a recess in the wall of an alley, violently shaking. The ground beneath him is frozen, the strong winds are like a slap in the face and the heavy-duty winter jacket he was able to steal isn’t doing much to protect him from the harsh weather. Maybe he won’t survive tonight, he almost dares to hope.

He’s still crying when he spots a pair of crisp white sneakers coming his way, and he looks up. He’s seen you around a couple of times, you’re one of the pretty girls who short circuit his brain.

You’re wearing a bright yellow winter jacket and black jeans. You look young, but he can’t tell how young. People nowadays age different than they used to back then. You’re probably way younger than him, although he has no idea exactly how old he is; he was 27 when he went to war, how much has he aged? How young is too young for a man with no age?

The light of the lamps behind you diffuses a soft halo around your body. You shine on your own light, brighter than the sun; you’re an angel so beautiful, so perfect that he doesn’t know if you’re a figment of his imagination.

You crouch down and hand him a bunch of blankets and a warm cup of something, maybe tea? When he grabs it his fingers brush against yours and it sends a jolt of electricity down his spine. He expects you to grimace in disgust at his touch, but you don’t. You smile.

You smile at him.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel the cold anymore, he only feels the warm tingling in his stomach. 

He smiles back, or at least he tries. He hasn’t smiled since World War II, as Nazis didn’t give him a lot of reasons to, to be honest. 

And just like you appeared, you’re gone in a heartbeat.

But he can’t simply let you go like that, so he resolves to summon back the Asset’s stealth and gets up to follow you.

That night when he closes his eyes the smile he sees belongs to you.

-

   They say even your worst day only lasts 24 hours; too bad your worst day has become your worst year so far.

They also say when you reach rock bottom the only way to go is up. They lied about that too.

Somehow today you’ve been scraping the bottom of the pit you’re in and have dug yourself even deeper than the lowest you could get.

You want to say your day can’t get any worse than this, but you know there’s always room for worsening.

The feeble March sun shines through the clouds and you’re dreading the flight of stairs that awaits you since your landlord categorically refuses to have the lift fixed. By the time you get to your door you’re exhausted and can’t wait to shower the day away and lounge on your couch.

 You open up the door to your apartment and get inside in a rush, only to stop dead in your tracks when you notice something is off about your home. There’s an eerie stillness about the open space, and maybe you’re going crazy but it seems like some of your things are not where you’d left them.

Apparently you just unlocked a lowest level to rock bottom.

It takes you a couple of seconds to register it, but when you do the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your brain screams danger at you.

There’s a smell inside that is not yours. It’s the strong, manly smell of sweat, and it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant if it weren't for the fact that you live alone and don’t usually have men over.

 You never think it’s going to happen to you until it does.

You took self defense in college, you carry pepper spray with you, you always thought if you were in danger you’d be able to defend yourself, or at least bolt away.

They never tell you that fear is paralyzing. They don’t tell that the anticipation of pain roots you on the spot, that your legs feel like they’re made of lead and all you can do is wait for the impact to come. They don’t tell you that the dread that chills the blood in your veins can break the most primal of mechanisms humans have, and the fight or flight response you were counting on to save you abandons you too

When it happens, you don’t even hear it coming; there’s a prickle at the base of your neck and, before you descend into the darkness, two arms envelope you, and you feel the ghost of a kiss on your shoulder.

-

  You try to peel your eyes open when a hand delicately caresses your cheek and lingers on your lips. Your eyelids are heavy, your head is pounding like you’re having the worst hangover in you life and your whole body is aching. You want to speak, you want to shake that hand away, but you are unmoving. 

It reminds you of the medicine induced hallucination you used to have, which were an inconvenient side effect of the same prescription drugs that were supposed to help you sleep. It feels like a sleep paralysis, minus the demon sitting on your stomach. 

-

 You’re slipping in and out of consciousness when you hear it. There’s a voice speaking.

You suppose whoever it belongs to is talking to you. You strain your ears and will yourself to concentrate real hard, despite your brain pulsing in your skull and threatening to burst out.

The voice definitely belongs to a man, and whoever he is, he sounds very soft spoken and polite. Too bad he broke into your house and drugged you.

“So pretty, so perfect for me.”

“We won’t ever be lonely anymore, I promise you that.”

“...cleaned up real good for you...”

“...can’t wait for you to wake up.”

It’s all you can make out in your drowsy state. He peppers your forehead and the crown of your head with soft kisses. There’s two strong arms holding you. You fall back asleep.

-

  The sun shines brightly through the curtains of your bedroom and you want to flip the universe off for lining up the morning rays directly onto your face, and yourself for forgetting to draw the blinds.

You almost cuss yourself out for being yet again late for work when the events of the previous evening rush back to you. You wake with a jolt and you feel terror enveloping you when you see him. 

Fear grips your throat and you want to scream, you want to thrash about and punch him, and yet all you can do is look at him with wide eyes.

You feel your chest heaving but it’s almost like it doesn’t belong to you, it’s not happening to you, it can’t; you breathe but the air won’t reach your lungs. 

The man detects your distress and sits next to you. He carefully reaches for your hand and places on his chest, over his heart.

You are immobile.

You hate yourself for it. You wish you could do something about this but your stupid brain refuses to cooperate.

“Calm down baby, I’m not here to hurt you.” says the guy who gave you morphine. “Concentrate on my breathing, ‘kay? Inhale, hold your breath- good, now exhale, and again.”

He guides you through a breathing exercise that suggests you it may not be the first time he’s had to calm himself or others from an almost panic attack. The steady beat of his heart calms you down.

“Don’t cry, please.” he pleads with you.

You’re back at it again with the inappropriate thoughts for someone who’s been kidnapped and might get killed in the next few minutes, but you can’t not think how handsome your captor is.

He’s got dark hair gathered up in an elastic at the nape of his neck. His jawline is sharp and his cheekbones high. His eyes are the bluest you’ve ever seen, his lips look soft and pink and his nose is small and cute for a man so chiselled and intimidating.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” he tells you, and smiles almost shyly at you.

There’s a look on his face that should reassure you, because it means that you won’t die today, but it can only mean you’re doomed to something maybe worse than death. 

His expression is tender, like you’re the most precious thing in the world. He seems so affectionate, so loving, that for a moment you wish this was real, you wish your former partners would have looked at you so devotedly.

He takes your hand in his again and traces soothing pattern with his thumb. 

Finally you seem to snap back to reality.

“Who are you?” You manage to squeak out. Your throat is on fire, and you’re grateful for the water bottle he hands over to you.

He frowns and seems to think about it until he manages to mumble a “My name is Bucky.”

He hesitates over his name like it doesn’t really belong to him.

You’re puzzled as to why you’re so calm. You’ve never been a feisty one, that’s true; you spent your life conforming to rules, you always complied to orders because you like to be praised and you hate to disappoint. As a child you feared punishments, being grounded, the look of dissatisfaction on your parents’ faces more than anything else in the world.

But you never imagined you’d be striking a conversation with the intruder in your house like it was an everyday occurrence. 

It only takes a look to understand that you can’t outrun the guy, nor overpower him. He’s built like a bulldozer and his biceps are bigger than you. He said he wouldn’t hurt you, and as absurd as it sounds you believe him, but it doesn’t mean you’d come out unscathered if you tried to fight him.

Maybe you could outsmart him? Comply until he trusts you and then take off?

“I’ve been watching you.”  Oh shit . “You saved my life.”

You can’t stop the remark from escaping your lips. “A thank you would have sufficed, you know, no need to kidnap me and all.” 

You weren’t feisty, sure, but that didn’t mean you weren’t a snarky bitch.

The guy chuckles, and it seems like his own amusement surprises you both alike.

“Two months ago, back in January. I was freezing to death. You came and gave me blankets and tea. It warmed me enough to survive the night. I knew back then you were perfect.”

Oh, God . The one time you decided to be a good citizen and gave the blankets you hogged in your cubicle at work to the homeless guy that was always crouched in the back alley of your office building, then one you’d see when you sneaked out the back to smoke on company time.

You almost don’t recognize him. 

“You’re just like me in a way. I saw you so sad all this time, you hate your job, you’re always alone. I saw you cry because you feel so lonely. I know that it feels like. I’ve been alone for so long.” He whispers the last part softly, and your heart clenches because it’s true, you’re so damn lonely, but you can recognize the loneliness in his eyes too. He cradles your face in his hands. “But I promise you won’t be alone anymore. You got me now.”

“I don’t know- I-I don’t even know you. Please just let me go, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please don’t hurt me.” You start to plead with him and your words get swallowed by the sobs that shake you. Your heartbeat picks up again. 

You know fear now, the real one, but it pales in comparison of the one you feel when the implication of his words starts to sink in.

He just smiles at you. 

“What do you want?” you manage to whisper.

“You. We’re going to be happy I promise. I read the notes on your phone where you wrote you wanted to travel, remember that?” You nod weakly, recalling the depressive entry about how stuck your boring life is and the bucket list of all the places you’d want to visit.

“We’re going to travel, I’ll take you wherever you want. Just don’t leave me please, be with me.”

You almost ask with what money since you’re homeless my guy, but then a thought strikes you.

You won’t miss your boring life the moment it will slip away from you; you won’t miss being stuck alone in a city you despise doing a job you hate. You won’t miss the homesickness. You won’t miss berating yourself for accepting a job immediately post grad in a city on the other side of America, just because you were scared of being left behind, of being that one person who ends up with no job after college and has to move back to their parents house.

Maybe, had you stayed in your hometown, or accepted that other position in Austin, maybe this shit wouldn’t have happened to you. You’ll never know.

He pulls you into a hug and you’re so startled your crying subsizes. 

He shushes you and coos you while rocking you in his arms. “It’s okay baby, I promise you’re going to like it, you don’t have to worry about a thing, I got it all sorted out for you.”

You’re shocked.

He pushes you down on the bed and as your mind elaborates the worst case scenario possible and as you’re on the verge of another panic attack, he simply envelops you in his arms and puts his head on your chest. 

You’re stunned again.

Almost on instinct you wrap your own smaller arms around his shoulders and he sighs contentedly. You’re so touch starved and desperate for affection that even hugging your stalkers feels kinda nice.

You haven’t touched anyone and no one has touched you in such fondness in almost a year. Hook-ups don’t count. 

You’re so lonely and isolate in this city that if you died your neighbours wouldn’t even notice, your colleagues wouldn’t care and your boss would probably be pissed that you didn’t put in your two weeks notice before you went to hell.

 Lost in thought you only notice he’s about to kiss you when it’s too late.

At first he hesitantly pecks your lips, and then he’s trying to pry your mouth open with his tongue. You don’t know what possesses you to do it but you part your lips.

He’s uncertain on how to move around, like he doesn’t know how to kiss or he’s forgetten how, he has absolutely no idea where to put his hands, and it’s honestly kind of awkward.

You imagine this is what it’s like to kiss a middle schooler.

He pulls away and blushes. “Sorry, it’s been a while.”

You’re stunned yet again.

He’s not apologizing for stalking you, breaking in and drugging you, but because he’s a bad kisser?

He slants his mouth against yours again, this time more forcefully than before. And after almost choking you when he pushes his tongue so deep it would have reached your tonsils hadn’t you had them removed, he seems to get the gist of it, or maybe the muscle memory kicks back in, because even if you won’t admit it to yourself, it feels nice.

You feel sick and twisted but it’s good to have someone desire you, touch you so tenderly, kiss you so passionately. The guys you use to entertain yourself in your solitude never kiss you while they fuck you into oblivion. You forgot how comforting the weight of a warm body on yours is.

You don’t push him away until you feel your t-shirt rip.

His hands explore your body ignoring your pleads to stop.

He’s nowhere and everywhere all at once. One hand squeezes your ass and the other kneads your breasts while he leaves open mouthed, hungry kisses down your throat, until he reaches the soft skin between your neck and clavicles and starts sucking in like a man possessed. You automatically jerk forward and buckle your hips until they touch his and he lets out a groan that travels straight to your already dripping core. 

You hate yourself for it, but you’ve never been this aroused.

You hate yourself for giving in so effortlessly, for being so damn weak, so damn lonely.

It’s mortifying how easy you’re making this for him. 

Your mind tries to will your body to push him from you, but instead of shoving him away your hands grab his shoulder and pull him closer.

You hate yourself because when he dips his hand in your soaked panties as he suckles on your nipple, your body doesn’t even try to protect you. 

You’re at his mercy as he pushes his long fingers through your folds and smears your arousal around, before dipping them inside.

“All this for me, pretty girl?” 

Cocky bastard.

He moans in your mouth as he grinds his hips on your leg and you feel the extent of his manhood. 

“So pretty, so perfect, so good for me.”

It shouldn’t feel this good, but again you’ve been a slut for praise since you came out the womb. You moan and whine in pleasure and he’s clearly very proud of himself for being the one who elicits these sounds from you. His thumb finds your bud and massages it, sending jolts of unadulterated pleasure down your spine.

You’re trembling under his touch. Your legs are shaking, toes curling, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning louder what you ever have. You can feel the familiar tightness in your core that precedes an orgasm, but you need more.

“Please Bucky, please. Faster.” you whine, ashamed of yourself for pleading like that. 

You’re so lost in your own pleasure you don’t notice the look of hunger that crosses Bucky’s face at the mention of his name. He never thought he’d be able to give you so much, he never knew his hand could bring anything other than pain and destruction, but his name sounds so sweet on your tongue.

“Cum pretty girl, cum all over my fingers for me, I know you can.”

And you do. You cum so hard your vision goes black for a second as you lose yourself to the pleasure that travels from your core to the rest of your body.

You’re floating, so dazed that you barely notice he’s undressed you and taken off his pants. When you feel something prod at your entrance, you look down in horror only to find him already lined up with you.

He’s got the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and it’s so big, so thick you’re scared he’s going to rip you apart. He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s slamming inside of you.

The scream that rips out of you is animalistic, and he stills.

“God you’re so tight, clamping down on me.” He grunts in you ear as he sets a slow pace.

The pain soon subsides and gives place to more pleasure than you’ve ever felt in your life. He picks up the pace when you stretch around his girth painlessly, and rolls his hips around.

“So good for me.”

“Mine, only mine.”

“My good girl.”

“Taking me so well.”

“Gonna fill you up so good.”

“Fuck, you feel incredible.”

Your pussy clamps down on his cock with each praise he grunts in your ear. You’re so overstimulated and he’s so vocal that you feel like you’re about to burst when you cum again and again for what feels like an eternity, before his movements become sloppier and messier.

You cum once more when he swells inside of you, and you feel the tell-tale sensation of fullness when he fills you up with his cum.

He collapses on you, panting. 

You’re both satisfied and spent.

He kisses you once more, on your lips, and it’s so sweet and tender that you almost cry because you know deep down you couldn’t take one more day of solitude.

His voice is deep and hoarse when he speaks again.

“How ‘bout we start with California?”

[masterthespianduchovny]

Some people gon be mad at me, but I gotta say it...

Some Scully fans don't understand Scully or her relationship/feelings with/for Mulder.

Scully's relationship with Mulder is this utterly pure thing that is grounded by how much she genuinely cares, respects, and supports him as a person. When you understand Scully's perception of Mulder in this view, seeing her as some long suffering woman doesn't make any sense.

Most of the time Scully sacrifices or choosing Mulder isn't based on romantic feelings, it's based in moral and ethical values and what she holds important. The show sets this up early.

In Squeeze, Tom asks "who's side are you on" and Scully says, "the victim."

This coincides with the side Mulder is on.

Tom was obstructing the case due to his on bias and hatred of Mulder. Despite Mulder's pettiness, Scully understands that Mulder will always prioritize the victim. She chose justice (Mulder) over pettiness (Tom).

When Scully declines a second date with the single father, she's choosing knowledge and curiosity over romance and her personal life.

Interestingly enough, Mulder never asked her to choose him. He's always asked her to be honest about the truth, but he never put her in that situation to prioritize him over her own professional goals or personal life. In fact, he would've understood if she did and said as much.

So when I say some Scully fans don't understand Scully, I'm not being insulting or intentionally rude, I'm saying they're overlooking small character moments that inform her characterization throughout the series.

Scully was not only a workaholic, she LOVED her work. And there wasn't just an obligation to Mulder, it was to the victims as well. I often think about how in this universe, if Mulder and Scully hadn't investigated these cases, either no one would've or it would've never been solved. It must've been something Scully also thought about as well.

Scully mentioned a few times that she joined the FBI to make a difference. Not for prestige or make a name for herself, but to make a difference. She didn't throw away her career for Mulder, she was exactly where she wanted to be. Those other cases handled by mainstream agents were always going to be investigated and solved (if possible), but x file cases?

There's a reason Mulder was called from bumfuck, Kansas or backwoods, West Virginia. There was no one else. Her and Mulder were the only two who took these things seriously.

But also, Scully genuinely genuinely cared for Mulder. Not because she wanted to fuck him, thought he was hot, or really wanted to date him. She enjoyed him as a person. Like truly. After working with him, understanding this beliefs, and meeting many victims, the x files became her passion project too. She attached herself to Mulder because there was no one alive she respected more than him. Someone who stood by their convictions regardless of what others thought to the betterment of people besides him.

He had his flaws, but the great parts of Mulder truly outshined the worst parts of him.

People often overlook how much the x files and her experience changed Scully. The deadpan, straight to the point Scully we know and love came to fruition in season 5. Believe me, I checked. Remember, Scully used to be goofy, open, and free. Then she was abducted, given cancer, kidnapped, sister killed over mistaken identity, etc. That changes a person.

But none of this is Mulder's fault. Mulder changed her in the best way possible. He opened her mind up and challenged her--it was intellectual. Those other things I mentioned made Scully pull within herself and close off. It made her guarded. So suffered so much emotional and mental and literal physical trauma.

As a result, her social interactions changed.

As a reminder, she became a workaholic because of her passion for the x files and she enjoyed it. Then to add on to that, her work was wild as hell, hard to explain, and some of it classified. Scully lived such a unique experience that regularly interacting with others would've been frustrating, exhausting, and her having a sense of feeling misunderstood. And dating would've been a minefield.

Thing is: Scully didn't mind this change to her life. This isn't to say that Scully didn't want or have any friends, it's to say that she didn't strive to have a booming social life nor did she care. Again, she VOLUNTARILY became a workaholic and threw away a normal life for paranormal shit. Someone who does that isn't trying to meet friends for happy hour on Friday or planning to have serious relationships any time soon.

Not only that, some people live lives like this right now and have incredibly fulfilling lives. Some people just work and have one or two friends and they're living their best lives. The idea that just because Scully doesn't have an active dating life and a circle of friends she regularly talks to means that her life is dour is so flawed.

Scully's eventual dissatisfaction with her life was rooted in her believing she should want things that she didn't want. Scully could've walked away. She could've said enough, instead she kept finding reasons to stay because she wanted to be on the x files. And it's quite clear that you can't work on the x files and have a normal life. She didn't want both, she wanted the life that she chose.

At that time, Scully was unable to articulate just how much she wanted to be with Mulder, which is why she positions, "Don't you want to get out of the car?"

She wanted moments of normalcy with him.

And it isn't just because Mulder gets that life because he lives it, its because Scully is actually in love with Mulder for who he is. She's seen Mulder at his best and at his worst and loves every part of him.

Whatever feelings Scully had for Mulder in the past that she pushed away, she couldn't do it anymore. She loved Mulder in a way she couldn't put into words. It was the truest feeling she ever felt, the most sincere thing and she hadn't realized it yet. Then, when she does, it takes them time to get there because Mulder is literally the most important person in her life.

Which seeds were planted back in season 2. In "Little Green Men" (I think), the thought of not working with Mulder saddened Scully because it meant she wouldn't get to see and talk to him. Mulder made a huge impression on her and became important to her very quickly.

So imagine 5-7 years down the road...embracing this feeling and the thought of losing Mulder if things went south would've been devastating for Scully. She wouldn't lose just a partner, she'd lose a best friend too.

Because she genuinely cared for him and he's her literal best friend.

The love Scully feels for Mulder surpasses known definitions of romantic love because her feelings aren't centered in that. She loves him on levels that most people can't imagine. Scully cares for Mulder so much and she shows that by listening to him and protecting him even if Mulder doesn't think he needs protection. She validates him and doesn't trivialize his beliefs even when she doesn't agree with them. It doesn't matter who the person is, Scully will always go to bat for Mulder because he only ever had himself and he needs to someone to say "hey, you're not alone and you're taken seriously."

I bring this up to say, the idea that Mulder doesn't deserve Scully when Scully clearly wants him is flawed. The idea that Mulder should be lucky that Scully "puts up" with him is flawed. The idea that Scully would ever tell Mulder as such or anything resembling (and stressing how she could've been happy with this perfect other man) is flawed. Those first two things are categorically wrong and the last is something Scully would never do because she loves Mulder and that is harmful. Scully would never tell Mulder something that would harm him or that she believed could.

All Things is so pivotal because Scully stops concerning herself with what she believe she should want and embracing what she actually wants: investigating x files and living an unconventional life with Mulder.

Scully wants that.

Not dating around, girls night, or frequent intimate get togethers with her family. She wants to investigate haunted houses on Christmas Eve and discover invisible bodies and help victims find justice.

After her and Mulder get together, she's committed to him. She waited so long to be with him that even while he was in hiding, she never considered dating anyone else. Emotionally and spiritually, she'd been married to him. Now that they'd been together, she didn't want anyone else but him.

Like there's so many layers to this, which hasn't even taken the "like a switch" speech. Or her reaction to Diana, which had multiple levels--romantic, platonic, and professional.

Lastly, the idea that Scully was waiting around for Mulder (to ask her out) is such a basic take. Scully wasn't waiting on Mulder, she prioritized their working relationship over romance AND she knew Mulder had his own stuff going on with himself. Even if she had wanted to date then, she didn't fault Mulder for not asking her out. All the shit he'd been through and was going through, Scully was more concerned about his emotional well-being opposed to upset that he hadn't pursued her.

Although I do get the criticism and the desire for Scully to date, have on screen friends, and shit, it just doesn't track with what we've seen and know of Scully.

Like, this woman almost went on the run with Mulder after knowing him for 2-3 years. They only reason they didn't was because she wanted to see her sister who'd been shot. The reason she almost went on the run was due to moral and ethical reasons and not romance, however, my point is that Scully's convictions and priorities is why her life was the way it was and that's the way she wanted it to be. She then went on the run with him when she didn't have to, but we know she would because 1. his sentence was an injustice (we know how Scully feels about justice) 2. she was madly in love with him and refused to continue living her life without him.

Once again, Scully is discarding any notion of normalcy because she didn't want it and hadn't wanted it since getting assigned to the x files.

And that's on that.

(And it's why I object to the characterization of their relationship in IWTB and seasons 10 and 11. Although it's fine and makes sense for their relationship to have issues at times, the writers handled it so cavalierly and without thought. You cannot have the backbone of the show in a romantic falling out and not address it--not really. They don't try to genuinely deal with such a situation because it's melodrama, but my question is: why introduce it in the first place. If it isn't worth being addressed, it's not worth being introduced. Mulder and Scully had a chat or two, but it was so superficial and lacked teeth. It's not that I wanted the show to focus on them romantically, I just want the show to not bullshit or half ass shit they're introducing and bringing up is all.)