#bear either me on this crappy first story.

[juniperneedssleep]

The Star Struck Killer

This is something I wrote quite a while ago so why not post it and see what random strangers on the internet think?

“Another shot.” I mumbled.

The memory of them throbbed in my head. The bartender took a quick look at me before passing me another. I picked up the cool detailed glass cup and quickly chugged it down as the liquid burned my throat. I let out a heavy sigh as the returning sting of pain came back. I shakily looked back up at the bartender.

 “Give me another shot.”

The bartender motioned his finger to the table and I took out my wallet, slapping down enough for a few more. Another then came my way as I continued until the world began to spin as darkness engulfed me.

May 8, 2005, 9:32 AM.

“Welcome Everyone to today's graduates of 2005!”  The voice began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate and talk about what lies ahead for you as you will overcome challenges in life and look back at the past years you spent here.” 

The loud booming voice continued as they started to call up people until it had called my name. 

I began to get up and out of my seat towards the stage as the noise of applause started back up. I went up the stage and stood as he began to speak, though his voice and the noise around me began to muffle until it was complete silence all around me. I stood confused as the world around me began to darken as if someone had dimmed the lights. I peered at the crowd as a black substance came from all around, slowly climbing their bodies until it covered them whole.

 I began to take steps back in fear as the bubbling black substance began to move towards me  but the floor underneath me began to crack with each step I took.

The floor gave way underneath me as I began falling and it seemed as if there no end to it. I felt like this fall would last forever until I fell onto a pitch-black floor, it strangely became a pure glowing white as soon as I landed.

I let out a groan as I began to pull myself up, but I noticed spots of the floor becoming pitch black as the substance fell through the crack above and began to move my way. I looked behind me ready to make a run for it but felt like I couldn’t run, as if I was being held in place as more of the black goo began to surround me only inches away. I panicked and tried to break free.

The goo began to climb onto me as it sizzled, eating through my clothes as waves of pain began to arrive. I tried to shake off the goo though it didn’t take me long until I grew tired as the wave of pain increased. I groaned out in agony as the goo had reached my waist as the world slowly began to blur then darken.

I awoke for a moment as my vision was blurred and figures stood in front of me, the voices were muffled. I squinted trying to figure out where I had ended up though I had not a clue. “Do you know where you are?” I noticed immediately that it was a deep voice observing me then looking back at his peer. I took a second to look around at my surroundings as the walls were painted white and contained several types of equipment. 

“Where exactly... am I?” I questioned.

“You are currently in the hospital.”

 I looked back at the source of the voice. There standing was a man in a white coat with a clipboard in hand. Someone stood next to him wearing a dark uniform with his hand on his hip as I processed the information.

 “Why?” I croaked. I tried to sit up, but I was only met with a throbbing headache.

“You passed out from a small overdose of alcohol.” The uniformed man grunted. He had a deeper voice than the first.

“Thankfully you should be fine.” the first voice continued but paused. looking back at his clip board before continuing.

“Though you might have a few Bruises from when you became unconscious and fell.”

 I nodded as I gave up on sitting up straight. The headache was still there but not as strong as it was when I had tried to sit up. I looked down at myself, looking at the recent cuts on my hands and arms. I felt something cold around my ankle that I hadn't noticed before, I tried moving but it didn’t let me move it as much as I would like. I looked backed up at the two that were still watching me as if they were expecting something. 

“what's around my ankle?” 

“it’s an ankle cuff.” the uniformed man replied. 

I opened my mouth to say something else but the overwhelming need to vomit came over me as I rushed to the side of the bed. The other side had a trashcan nearby as if they knew everything I would do as I vomited into it. I leaned back over to a table next to me and grabbed a tissue as I began to wipe my face as the taste of vomit and beer still lingered in my mouth. 

The first voice began talking again. “Officer Monroe here is going to ask you some questions during the first few days of treatment, and if you have any questions, you can ask for me, Doctor Woodard or my nurse Rojas.” He finished. fumbling with his clipboard before leaving the room, leaving him with Monroe.

Monroe still stood where he was, watching the Doctor leave untill he was out of sight. He turned to face me with a blank expression. I looked away as I taped my fingers against the bed nervously for reasons they didn’tunderstand.

I began to hum something that little star once sung as memories flashed through my head, her giggle, her laughter, the way she ran towards me with a ginormous smile on her face as soon as I set foot through the door with Taiana trailing behind with a tried smile.

I sighed as it had to be done, they didn't deserve to suffer. Another memory had resurfaced, it was when he had first met Taiana when he had bumped into her that Thursday night. Her dirty blond hair hung near her waist with two small braids wrapped around it, along with her wine-red blouse, her black pants and those mesmerizing sharp green eyes that darted around apologetic.

Tears had threatened to fall as they sat in the corners of my eyes, but I kept reminding myself that what I did was for the best. I looked back to where Monroe stood but he was gone quicker than I could think. I looked around the room once more as I started to drift back to sleep as a faint memory began.

 February 25, 2010:

9:48 PM. 

I shivered as a cold breeze blew, it was getting late and I needed to hurry. I kept his head down as I passed others. I looked towards the street as the variation of colored cars stood waiting for the light to change. I felt myself bump into something causing me to tip over yet not completely fall onto the sidewalk. I looked up and saw sharp green worried eyes looking straight at me. 

"I'm sorry!” she gasped.

 “I looked down at her appearance. She was carrying a mix of beautiful flowers while wearing a small beret that matched the color of her blouse. I let out a small chucked.

 “You fine! There’s no harm done.” 

she let out a small sigh as a relieved smile formed on her face. She turned back to the flowers trying to fix the broken stems.

“The flowers....” I trailed off.

 She looked back at me and gave me a small shrug.

"it's alright, I can always buy some more since these aren’t for me.”

 ‘If I can." he mumbled. “May I buy you some new ones?” 

she shook her head. “I appreciate the offer although I’d rather not.” 

“It’s only fair I do dear princess.” I giggled handing a hand out towards her.

She opened her mouth to say something else but only shook her head as a grin followed afterwards. 

“Alright then, you win.” she giggled.

 “Lead the way then”

She took my hand and motioned her head the way she came. We passed from store to store as clouds above began to cover the starry night sky. They both continued to make jokes and comments as they neared the Shop as thunder roared above. hail began to pour down as we hurried closer to our destination.

“I don’t remember there being hail for tonight's weather.” she mumbled as she looked up. I looked up with her

 “Neither do I...” I continued to look up as the chunks of hail grew larger. she looked back at me with worry 

"Maybe we should head int-.” 

The sentence was stopped short as a large chunk of hail hit her. She tumbled back, falling onto the sidewalk. He stood in shock as she layed in a crooked position, with her arm twisted unnaturally from the tumble down.

Blood gushed out of her head as he stood in shock. Taking a step back as I shook his head in horrified disbelief. 

” Help anyone please!’ I cried out. I looked back down as the realization hit me.

” This...this isn't right!” I shouted.

“It wasn’t like this!” 

I looked around but I couldn’t see anyone as tears pricked my eyes, it was a ghost town. He looked back at Taiana only to find bloody bones in a pile as the remains of the flowers were stems scattered. He crouched down with wide eyes as loud sobs escaped from my lips.

Tears fell onto what had remained of Taiana as I looked ahead of the mess. A shadow figure stood a-far. I gasped and jumped back blinking a few times before looking back, it had vanished from sight. He looked around as the area around him began to fog up. He shivered as it suddenly became colder, the hail started to stop but the large chunks still fell every so often.                                                                                                                                                        

I got up.

 “Where did he go?”

I shakenly spoke under his breath, hesitantly, taking a step over what was once Tainan and began to walk forward, chills went up through my spine with each step I took.

I continued down the sidewalk, passing the dim stores that were once filled with life, but all could be heard were my footsteps as I passed. Was this a dream? Or a nightmare? but why were the nightmares like this? Why couldn’t they be anything else? Another shadow passed my sight quicker than I could react. I took a step back as my breath hitched, faint tapping began at my shoulder. I turned back expecting something, anything, but nothing stood behind me.

I began to panic as it was like they were playing with me, each tap and noise becoming louder and suddenly it felt like it progressed going further into reality as every second passed. But it was only a nightmare. That’s what I presumed, just a nightmare, a simple nightmare filled with sudden life that felt so real but also filled with such darkness that could overtake him me in seconds.

“What do you want from me?” I exclaimed.

 Questioning the shadow’s motives instantly and turning quickly at any sudden movements or loud background noises that appeared throughout the process of reality.

The figure appeared alongside me as it cocked its head. It seemed to examine him in this state of mental and physical commotion and confusion. I looked up as more drops dripped from his face.

 “What causes you to do this?”  

The figure hesitantly came closer as it peered at me. watching as my tears fell to the ground. A low humming creak rang in the surroundings. The figure took a few steps back and turned to face where the sound had emerged from, the figure glanced at him once more before moving away. Its footsteps didn’t make a single sound as it treaded away.

I watched as it continued until it was out of sight. I felt relieved as I suddenly felt myself fall against the rough but wet concrete as he closed his eyes. The only thing i could feel now was the aftereffects of the hail as soft drops of rain fell onto my face.

[timberbark]

╰┈➤ my alterhuman comfort movies

་ ּ𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ──◍───── 𝟷:𝟹𝟶 ➛ 🌱𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ🦴ꜝ

a list of comfort movies that i resemble or relate my alterhumanity to in some way.

: 1 WOLF CHILDREN

i absolutely have to put this as number one, mostly since it was one of the first movies i watched that i connected with on such a deep level when i was newly awakened.

without any spoilers, i felt that i related to both of the children so well that the movie was incredibly moving for me to watch. still one of my favourites to this day!

: 2 SPIRIT: STALLION OF THE CIMMERON

another big childhood movie for me - it’s so disappointing that they followed it up with a crappy horse-girl tv series though. also has an incredibly moving soundtrack that i still listen to.

: 3 BROTHER BEAR

i love the plot of this movie- it is so comforting. and the soundtrack, oh my. it’s one of my favourite disney movies for sure, and you definitely don’t need a to have a bear theriotype to relate either.

: 4 BALTO

rewatched this one fairly recently - some hard wolf feels for this movie. the feeling of not belonging as both a dog and a wolf is relatable, just in a different sense as a non-human.

although i feel like there’s much more or a alterhuman vibe from the second movie: wolf quest. i feel like most people will argue that nothing beats the original but i have a big soft spot for balto II.

: 5 BOLT

a disney gem, that i feel people forget about a lot. i’m including this one because it was a recent re-watch for me and it has some big alterhuman feels. the way bolt is learning to be a “dog” again without his super-powers, just reminds me of my alterhumanity - the window scene especially.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS

- movies that i haven’t yet seen, but give me alterhuman vibes.

WOLFWALKERS : theres a lot of talk about this one, though i’ve only seen clips!

POM POKO : a studio ghibli movie about tanuki’s that can shapeshift.

SONG OF THE SEA : made by the same studio as wolfwalkers (i’m pretty sure!) - a story about a girl that can turn into a seal.

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found- Part 2

A/N: Here is part 2! Get ready for some bonding, and the introduction of a new character! I hope you're enjoying this so far and please let me know what you think! Also, obviously keeping it to the chapters of the game didn’t work, so scratch that lol. I’m going to keep physical characteristics out of this story, but if I mess up anywhere, please let me know and I’ll fix it!

Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Slow-Burn,  

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you. Word Count; 5,023

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Story Masterlist

xXx

It was not easy at all to follow the man in the hat, and she almost lost him a few times as well as gotten caught, but she managed to stick behind him during the long walk. 

Ella had been relieved that she hadn’t followed the man to the familiar area of the altar, having been keeping an eye out and preparing herself for the memories that returning to that place may force to the front of her mind, but it wasn’t necessary, as they ended up at what looked to be an abandoned factory. 

It had been what felt like hours of walking and sneaking around, so when she got the chance to just sit down and wait for him to leave the large building, she took it, finishing up the last of her water. 

If the man in the hat wasn’t sacrificing Leon, then it was likely that he wasn’t killing him at all. At least not yet. If Ella had to guess, she would say he was probably finding a place to keep him tied up for a bit. For what purpose, she didn’t know, but that wasn’t important. 

As soon as the man left, she would go inside and free Leon anyway, which would ruin whatever plans the man had for her companion.

Ella was able to rest for half an hour before the man in the hat finally exited the factory. Unfortunately, he ordered a few villagers to keep watch, Ella hiding behind the tree she was near when she saw the first one arrive. 

She waited a little longer for everything to calm down, and to make sure the large man in the hat was long gone, before she finally moved into the factory. xXx There had only been a handful of villagers inside, Ella having more trouble finding her way around than she did taking them down. However, she did find something useful. All of Leon’s gear. It was behind two locked doors, but she found a wheel that lifted one of them, though only for a limited time. 

Once she got inside, she unlocked the other door from the inside, giving her an easier way out, before she gathered all of Leon’s things. It was quite a bit, but she managed, now having two handguns tucked into her waistband, his pouch at her hip, and the shotgun in hand. She grabbed his combat knife last, giving it a good once over. 

“Hm. Nice.” It was a good looking knife0- Sturdy and well made- though it did look a little old. Either way, it would be much nicer to have than those crappy kitchen knives she found around here. Alas, it wasn’t hers, and she stuck it through her belt loop before once again going on the search for Leon. 

There were a few bear traps she had to disarm, but she eventually found a metal door, though just before she could reach it, the man that was carried in with Leon suddenly burst through, almost running into her. He was shocked, immediately getting on the defensive, before realizing she wasn’t one of the infected. 

“Oh hello.” A smirk came to his lips as his eyes gave her a once over. “I didn’t know he had a companion with him. What’s your name, senorita?” He asked her, his tone flirtatious, and Ella just furrowed her brows at him, shaking her head lightly to show she wasn’t going to give him her name. 

She had no idea who this man was, or what he was doing here. He wasn’t infected, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t somehow a part of all of this. Then again, the man in the hat carrying him to the factory along with Leon suggested he wasn’t on the cult’s side, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was on Ella’s, and Ella wouldn’t blindly trust him. 

She didn’t trust Leon completely either, but she traveled with him out of necessity, and she at least knew why he was here. The less strangers she had to put her trust in, the better. 

“Ah I see. Well I would love to stay and chat, really, but I must get going. It was lovely to meet you. Perhaps we’ll meet again.” Ella gave him a curious look as he ran off, and a part of her wondered if she should stop him, but she decided against it, focusing on Leon. At least she knew she was going the right way. 

Making her way down the steps, she stopped when she heard Leon’s voice. He was clearly talking to someone. Was there someone else down there with him? She didn’t hear another voice. . .was he talking to someone over the phone? Or perhaps an ear piece.

She only managed to make out “Condor One out” as he got closer, her brows furrowing. Condor one? What the hell did that mean? Was that a code name? Perhaps he was a government agent. . .

Leon rounded the corner then, and Ella raised the shotgun, pointing it at him and making the blonde man stop, his brows raising a bit in surprise. Both at seeing Ella, and the shotgun suddenly pointed at him. 

She took him in, immediately noticing he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore, and Jesus, the guy was ripped. She had figured as much, especially when she grabbed his arm earlier and could feel that he was in shape, but seeing it was very different.

She hadn’t meant to check him out, having been taken by surprise considering he was usually wearing a jacket, but Leon had noticed, clearing his throat. 

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” He asked her, snapping her out of it. She couldn’t even be embarrassed, her focus immediately returning to what she had overheard. Government agents weren’t the only ones who used codenames, and she needed to know who he was connected to, not wanting to be taken by surprise later on. 

“Condor one?” She questioned, wanting answers and figuring this was as good a time as any. “What are you, an FBI agent?” What would an FBI agent even be doing out here? Who was the girl in the church? 

“Do you even know how to use a shotgun?” He asked, not seeming the least bit concerned, and Ella’s mouth fell open in shock. 

“Seriously?! I have a shotgun pointed at you and you still won’t answer my questions?” He was unbelievable. 

“You’re not going to use it.” He pointed out as he stepped forward, casually taking it from her. She didn’t resist, because of course she wasn’t going to use it, but him being so sure of that still ticked her off. 

“Okay so? I followed that man all this way without getting caught, which wasn’t easy in case you were wondering, and I got your gear for you. The least you could do is answer my questions.” She argued as she grabbed his hand gun and pouch, handing them to him. He was quiet for a moment as he put everything in its proper place. 

“I am an agent for the U.S. Government. I’m on a mission to rescue the president’s daughter.” He finally said, before holding his hand out to her. 

However, Ella was too busy taking in what he said, having not expected that in the slightest. An agent for the U.S. government she had guessed, but The President’s daughter? Of all the guesses she had on who the girl in the church was, that hadn’t been among them. 

At least that meant she could probably trust him, right? She supposed he could still be a terrible person in his free time, but at least she knew who he worked for. 

Assuming he was telling the truth, but who would come up with such a big lie like that? Her being his sister would have been much more believable. It was then she realized his hand was out expectantly, her brows furrowing. 

“What?” She didn’t know what he wanted, having thought she gave him back everything. 

“My knife.” He pointed out, but Ella just crossed her arms. 

“I don’t know, maybe I should keep it after all the trouble you put me through. And also keeping such a big secret.” She wasn’t being serious, but she couldn’t help being a little annoyed at him. At the same time, she knew she had no right. He didn’t owe her an explanation. She had volunteered to come along, and really this didn’t change much. If anything, it just added a little more pressure to the situation. It definitely explained a lot though, namely his skills. 

Leon stepped forward, getting into her personal space, and Ella’s breath suddenly caught in her throat as she looked into his blue eyes, her heartbeat quickening. He was inches away from her face, his expression unreadable.

“It didn’t seem necessary to mention.” He spoke normally, Ella suddenly noticing how attractive his voice was. Why was that something she noticed? And why was his close proximity making her heart pound? It was so inappropriate to even think along those lines considering the situation, but her traitorous body didn’t seem to care.  

Suddenly he was stepping past her, Ella finally coming to her senses, and it was then she realized he had grabbed the knife from her belt loop.

Her annoyance from before began to increase, Ella gritting her teeth as she turned to glare at him. 

“And thank you.” Despite there being virtually no change in his tone, she could hear the sincerity in the words, making Ella stop.

It was clear he hadn’t expected her to follow him, which she supposed was fair. She was just a civilian. She had no reason to want to save him, but she had, even if he hadn’t really needed saving. 

Her annoyance melted away, and she let out a breath. In reality, she was just happy she had found him. She was scared the man had done something to him, or maybe even fatally wounded him. If something happened to him, Ella didn’t know if she could save the girl. 

No, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. Even if she had all his gear, there’s no way she could do this without him. And if she couldn’t find him, she would have had to either turn back, or just go to where she knew he was going, and hope she didn’t die along the way. 

Finding him all in one piece was a huge relief. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, beginning to follow him up. “But I was a little serious about wanting that knife. These crappy kitchen knives keep breaking.” She joked, hoping to clear the somewhat serious and tense atmosphere. 

“I might have let you have it, but this ones important to me.” She hadn’t actually expected a response, her brows raising slightly. 

“Oh. . .well then I‘m sorry I threatened to keep it.” She had been joking at the time, but even so. She was curious about the story behind it, but she didn’t ask. She wouldn’t test her luck, as it was already shocking that he even revealed that much personal information. 

“Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have kept it from me if you tried.” Did he just banter back with her? Out loud? 

He must have really appreciated her efforts, as he was seemingly opening up to her, and she could definitely get used to that. 

They made their way to the exit of the factory, being cautious just in case anymore villagers appeared, but fortunately the only ones in the factory were the ones Ella had already taken out. 

That reminded her that she was low on ammo as they neared the exit, Ella opening her mouth to mention it, but a shadowy figure at the exit door caught her attention.

A tall man in a large dark robe stood at the door, a cloth mask covering everything but his eyes, and Ella bristled as she readied to defend. 

“Over here, Strangers.” He spoke in an accented voice, pointing behind him before walking out of view. 

What? 

He clearly wasn’t a normal villager, and he didn’t seem infected, but at the same time, she really hadn’t gotten that great a look at him. 

“Who is that?” Leon mumbled in question, looking at her, and she shrugged. She hadn’t seen him at all during her stint in the woods. 

“Maybe a friend?” She said hopefully, but Leon was unconvinced. She wasn’t either, to be fair, but it was worth checking out. 

They exited the factory, looking in the direction the man had gone. He was standing behind a small wooden table, and Ella could see the legs could fold in on themselves. There was a purple cloth covering the top, but if she had to guess, she would say that the top probably folded too, making the table portable. There was also a large torch with a purple flame, Ella getting distracted by how pretty it was for a moment. 

“Let’s do some business, eh?” Ella could hear the grin in his voice, her brows furrowing. Business? What was this? 

Leon cautiously stepped forward, clearly curious to what this guy was offering, but Ella decided to hang back, just in case. 

The man opened the flap of his robe, revealing small items hanging there.

A salesman. A salesman? 

“I’ve got anything you could need. Ammo, weapons, first aid- you name it, I’ve got it.” Ella was baffled, not understanding what was going on. 

“Why?” She found herself saying, questions bouncing around in her head. 

“Well, to help get rid of the cult that’s been wreaking havoc around here of course!” He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I just want to do my part, is all.” He was charismatic, Ella would give him that. 

“Okay I guess. . .but what currency do you want?” She crossed her arms, still feeling a little suspicious. 

“Just what you’d expect for this area.” He seemed more than happy to answer her questions, Ella feeling her suspicions fading away. “Pesetas? But how would we even get those?” Ella didn’t have any on her anymore, though she didn’t know about Leon. Either way, this was all useless for her. 

“Well these villagers should have some on ‘em. Take from ‘em. They won’t need it will they?” He chuckled, and Ella paused as she processed. Did this mean they would see him again? Was he just walking around this village freely? Was he a villager? 

“So you want us to steal from dead people and then use the money to buy questionable items  from you?” She clarified, just to make sure she was hearing right. 

“That’s right!” He said excitedly, and honestly he was already growing on her. For some reason, she felt inclined to trust him, and she didn’t know why. “Though all my wares are in tip top shape Miss, I assure you.” He added, and she sighed, looking at Leon. 

“Seems legit to me.” She shrugged, not thinking they had anything to lose. Leon had been silent, clearly taking in the information and analyzing its authenticity himself. 

He patted his pouch, and if Ella had to guess, he was probably low on ammo himself. So they really didn’t have much choice. 

“Do you have pesetas?” She asked him, hoping the answer was yes. 

“Yeah, I brought some along just in case. It’s not much though.” He answered, before seeming to come to a decision. 

“How much for ammo?” And with that, Leon and the merchant traded some items. The bullets seemed just as good as any, nothing visibly wrong with them, and he also bought some more herbs. Once he had used up the money he had, he took a step back from the table, turning to hand Ella her share of the ammo. She thanked him, reloading her gun and putting the rest in her pocket. There were more than her pocket could handle, however, and she sighed, not sure keeping them there was going to work. 

“Here, why don’t you have these, on the house.” She turned to the merchant, seeing he was holding out two items, her eyes widening when she realized what they were. 

A combat knife, a pouch and a holster! 

“Wait, really?!” She asked as she stepped forward, looking up at him. Why would he just give these to her? 

“Consider it an apology for not helping you out before.” He answered, Ella feeling her heart twist lightly. He meant while she was barely surviving alone in the woods. . .which meant he knew she was out there. Who was he? “Plus, I like you. You’re a fighter.” He added, the words bringing her a small sense of pride, though she didn’t know if she agreed with him.

She decided not to question it, thanking him as she took the items from his hand. She attached the pouch and holster to her hip, putting all her ammo  and her gun in them, and replaced the kitchen knife with the much better combat knife. Though, she didn’t know what to do with the old rusty knife now.

“Did I forget to mention I also buy just about anything?” The merchant spoke up, Ella looking at him and seeing he was glancing at the knife. 

“You want this old thing?” She questioned, not understanding why he would want it. It was deteriorating fast and really not all that sharp. 

“Trust me, I can find a use for it.” He assured her, and she shrugged, before handing it to him. In return, he handed her 200 pesetas, Ella smiling as the coins jingled in her hands. 

“Thanks.” She put the coins into her pouch, feeling much better about the merchant, despite how strange he was. She still had questions, but she decided to let them go, just being appreciative of his help. 

“Come back anytime.” He responded with a wink, and Ella nodded, before turning back to Leon, who had been watching the interaction patiently. 

“I got my own knife now.” She grinned, clearly excited, and Leon’s lips pulled into a small half smile, catching her slightly by surprise. It looked nice on him, and she found herself wishing he would do it more often.

“I see that. Are you ready to go?” Ella nodded, making her way over to him as he turned towards the next direction they would need to go.  

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” The two stopped, turning back to the merchant. “The cult has some pretty nice treasures lying around, and I’ll pay a pretty penny for those, so keep an eye out will ya?” Oh, that was good to know. That would definitely help them keep their items stocked up. 

“Alright, we will. Thanks Merchant!” She waved goodbye, before she and Leon headed up the path. There was a large door right beside them, but it was clearly locked and they could see they would need some kind of key with a bird engraving on it, so they went down the path to the right. 

Ella knew they’d get a chance to see the Merchant again assuming he was still in the same spot when and if they came back to the locked gate, but she hoped she would see him again after that. Not just because of the items he offered, but also because he made her laugh and feel a little less shitty. 

xXx

It didn’t take them long at all to come across the largest village they had seen thus far, having multiple houses and bridges that stretched across cliffs between the mountains. Ella sighed, looking at Leon. 

“We’re not splitting up.” She wasn’t dealing with losing him again, as what happened before had been much too close for comfort. “And surprisingly, it’s not my fault that that’s not a good idea anymore.” She pointed out with a teasing grin, Leon rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, let’s go.” She chuckled, but didn’t argue as they readied themselves to deal with the many villagers that awaited them down below. xXx She pulled the combat knife out of the villagers head, wiping the blade off on the clothes. If she was clumsy with the kitchen knives before, she was even more so now, Ella sighing as she searched the pockets of the villagers. She had found quite a few pesetas from the villagers they had taken care of, making her excited for the next meeting with the merchant. 

“You’re going to have to get better with that knife. You almost got hurt.” Leon pointed out as he walked up to her, reloading his gun. 

“Yes, thank you. I’m aware, Leon. But unless you want to take some time to teach me, then it might be a minute before I get the hang of it.” She wasn’t used to the feel of the thicker handle, nor the weight of the blade, but she was getting there. It might just take a little time.

“Here, you’re handling it wrong.” Leon holstered his gun as he grabbed his own knife, showing her the proper way to handle it. She hadn’t been expecting an actual lesson, but she wasn’t about to complain or question it, grabbing her knife quickly and mimicking the way he held his own. 

For about five minutes, Leon showed her the proper ways to handle the knife, as well as the best ways to slash and stab. It was all condensed for time, but Ella absorbed as much information as she could. She wasn’t going to be an expert any time soon, but maybe now she could put more power and purpose behind her knife attacks instead of just hoping for the best with the limited knowledge she had. 

“Alright, I think I got it.” She breathed, going over what he taught her over and over again to ingrain it into her memory. “Thanks.” She hadn’t expected him to take time to do that when she knew they didn’t have much of it. He had also been patient with her, waiting for her to get the movement right and not showing annoyance when she asked him to show her again. 

“You getting hurt will slow us down more than a short knife lesson.” He explained as he put his knife away, and she supposed he was right. However; if Ella got hurt enough to where she would slow him down, she wasn’t planning on sticking around. She meant it when she said she wouldn’t get in his way. She debated telling him that, but decided against it. She had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well anyway.  

They made their way into a locked house, Ella becoming mildly impressed when Leon kicked in the wooden door that had been locked with a rusted and old deadbolt. He definitely put those muscles to good use, that was for sure. 

The key ended up being on the roof, and once Leon grabbed it, they wasted no time in beginning the walk back. 

However, just as they were about to leave the village, Ella felt a chill down her spine, the feeling of someone watching her making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. 

She turned quickly, her eyes surveying the area before they landed on someone on the other side of the village. 

Her blood ran cold, her eyes widening in shock as fear washed over her like ice water. 

It was him. 

He was just standing there on a rock, staring at her, his face hidden by the hood of his robe.

Even so, she could never forget the gold necklace with a seemingly glowing red gem he wore,, the memory of it shining in the moonlight as the ax was brought down on Alice’s neck forever ingrained into her mind. She could never forget the decorations that lined his robe, signifying his higher status compared to the others around him, nor the chilling grin he wore on his lips as he seemed to relish in the murder of her friends.  Ella couldn’t hear Leon calling her name over the blood rushing in her ears, and as she watched the man turn and begin to walk off into the distance, her fear was suddenly replaced with blood boiling rage as she came back to herself. 

She didn’t know if the past few hours of taking down enemies had bolstered her confidence tenfold, but she suddenly found herself running back into the village, her mind on nothing but tracking that man down and ending his life for what he did to her friends- for what he did to Alice. 

She wasn’t helpless anymore. He couldn’t take her by surprise. She had the advantage now, when he was alone, and in that moment, it felt as though nothing could stop her from going after him. 

That was until a strong arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her off her feet and forcing her to a halt as Leon held her to his chest.

“Ella, stop!” Leon shouted with a strained voice as she fought his grip. 

“Put me down! I have to go after him!” She growled angrily, pissed at the man for stopping her when this had nothing to do with him. 

In a quick movement, Leon turned, setting her down like she had asked. However, they were on one of the wooden bridges, and he grabbed both of the ropes, blocking her way. 

“Calm down. Who are you talking about?” He demanded, and Ella, who had been looking past him the entire time, finally looked at him.

“Him! You didn’t see him!? He was standing right there!” She pointed to the rock on the far side of the village, and Leon turned, but there was nothing there, and he clearly hadn’t seen him before, his eyes holding confusion as he looked back to her. 

“What? You don’t believe me?” Her voice was accusatory as her anger built at him. He probably got away, and it was Leon’s fault. If he hadn’t stopped her, then she could have caught up to him, and made him pay for what he had done. Maybe then, the fear and guilt that had cemented itself within her would disappear. 

“I believe you.” He assured in a firm voice, his tone almost a warning for her to calm down. “But there’s no way to that rock, Ella. It’s not connected to the village.” Ella stopped, her brows furrowing. She moved forward, looking behind him as she had to see for herself if he was telling the truth, and he was. There was no way to that rock. There had never been a way for Ella to reach him.

The anger washed away, being replaced by sorrow and pain as the emotions she had been shoving away for days crashed into her. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, and she turned away from Leon, trying desperately to reign them in as she walked off the bridge. 

She only made it a step off the wood before she fell to her knees, bringing a hand to her face to cover her eyes as tears fell down her cheeks. 

She had been forcing herself not to think about it. She had been pushing the memories to the deepest corners of her consciousness as she focused on trying to survive. It had been easier to do, when her exhausted mind was on how hungry or thirsty she was. It had even been easy to do when she was focused on helping Leon with his mission. She had used his mission to forget what she had gone through- Her self-preservation instincts’ last ditch effort to keep her going when she was so close to giving up. 

After all, what better reason is there to keep moving forward than to find a purpose beyond yourself in all this madness?

However, the sight of that man had forced the traumatic memories to the forefront of her mind against her will, and Ella needed a moment to recover. Just a moment. Thankfully, Leon knew not to say anything more, staying silent and giving her time with no complaints. This forced him to remember that Ella was just a civilian. One who had gone through something terrible very recently. 

It was easy to forget with how she handled herself. Headstrong and cracking jokes with a smile. Teasing him and taking down the infected left and right without a single complaint. He admired her, gaining a newfound respect for her, because he knew what she was going through, and he knew how hard it was to do all of that. 

Ella wiped her eyes after a minute, taking a deep breath as she once again pushed all the memories and emotions away. Being able to let out just a little bit of what she had been holding in, and the reminder she gave herself that they didn’t have time for this, made it easier to do.

She heard the slightest bit of movement, looking up and seeing a gloved hand being held out to her. When had Leon gotten in front of her? Had she been that distracted? 

She didn’t care to question it further, her eyes meeting his, Ella seeing only understanding in them. 

She had been prepared to apologize, but she knew then, that she didn’t have to. There was no judgment or annoyance, or even pity, in his gaze. If anything, there was respect, which was something she hadn’t expected. 

It was then she knew for certain that Leon had been through something similar before. Maybe even something worse. 

She took his hand, letting him help her up as she gave him a nod of thanks. He gave her a half smile in return, but didn’t say anything more, which she greatly appreciated. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Not while it was still fresh. He seemed to know that already though, turning and heading back towards the exit of the village. 

She watched him with a newfound respect of her own, and after a moment of feeling the breeze on her face dry the remaining wetness on her cheeks, she followed after him. 

[maspers]

I'm going to regret this aren't I.

Anyway, since I'm one of those morons on tumblr who rambles about things that probably don't need to be rambled about, let me preface this by saying I am not a professional literary analyst, political scholar, religious historian, or anything really. I am 100% amateur, analyzing your post and its contents partially because I thought it'd be fun and partially to correct something I felt needed to be corrected. Do not take my words to be the insight of an expert, they are NOT. As with everything on tumblr AND on the internet, take everything I say with a grain (or barrel full) of salt and make sure to do your own research on important subjects before incorporating them into your own worldview.

Right, so, the trend. And you're absolutely right it is a trend in his works. You cite Mistborn, and seem to be referring to Era 1 with the slave uprising, but we see it in Era 2 as well. The Roughs and the cities other than Elendel try to assert their independence, and the protagonists usually have a vested interest in ensuring that those groups fail. Of course in Era 2 Book 4 it wasn't as politics-related and more "stop the bomb" related but still. Steris (all hail Steris) is valuable to the team for many reasons, but by the end of the series her main purpose is manipulating the honestly pretty manipulative Elendel Government, which is specifically still in charge despite all the things its bungled by the end of the story. This makes me really curious as to how Era 3 will handle this, since it's supposed to take place in an analogue to our modern times where that sort of thing (ostensibly) isn't as feasible.

Then there's Warbreaker. Susebron is a total teddy bear, but he and the government that was using him as a puppet king are STILL IN CHARGE by the end of the story. And this is AFTER we see from Vivenna's perspective just how crappy the place is. Sure there's the implication that "oh things will change for the better" but the government is still around. One could argue that this is honestly pretty realistic: lots of full-blown revolutions irl either fail or upon succeeding immediately proceed to become the new tyrannical government. But when we look at Mistborn Eras 1 and 2, Warbreaker, Elantris (though that one's trickier because we aren't given as much insight into how the nations of Sel really function considering the limited viewpoints of our three protagonists), and Stormlight where they KEEP PUTTING DALINAR IN CHARGE even though he is desperately trying to convince people that he's part of the problem, it definitely is a trend, and now that I've been made aware of it I'm definitely looking for it in some of his other works as well (I'm still having trouble seeing it in the Secret Projects, but the Alcatraz books end with the Librarians still basically ruling the Hushlands and none of the protagonists planning on doing anything about it).

I can think of three likely reasons why that might be: First is, like I said, realism. His books are fantastical, but the people living in them still feel real and have reasonably realistic beliefs and philosophies based on the worlds they live in. We can understand that they aren't one-note strawmen, or at least Sanderson is trying to AVOID making one-note strawmen (YMMV). And people in real life... don't really like status quo shifts. Oh sure, we like it when the status quo is shifting in our favor in a way that feel we have some semblance of control over, but humans as a whole tend to be resistant to large changes. We don't like examining the big picture ramifications of our actions. Animal brain is not a fan. The fact that we CAN do it and be successful is proof that we're really freaking awesome and more than our animal instincts, but we still don't like it. Exhibit A: 2020. Throughout all of it, humanity was itching for everything to be over so that we could go back to the old status quo as quickly as possible, and when we could we did. Should we have, though? Point is, Sanderson's characters leaving the old status quo intact is something that in many cases people in real life would TOTALLY DO. The fact that it happens with frequency in Sanderson's books is odd, but kind of makes sense when you consider his dedication to making the worlds he creates more like worlds full of people rather than just faceless masses he can use to make a point.

Following that, possibility number 2: He is trying to make a point, and that point is about governments being a lot more multifaceted than we usually tend to see them as. Both in fiction and in real life people tend to discuss "the government" like its one nebulous entity, even when we know it's got a bajillion layers filled with a bajillion people performing a bajillion different functions. Right Hand vs Left Hand will always be present (and no, my usage of Right and Left is NOT talking about any specific political groups or ideologies, it's a trope name). But fiction is usually based on our perceptions of reality. We see an irl government doing something detrimental to our personal or societal well-being, and so we see governments doing the same (though possibly exaggerated depending on the work) in fiction. Something we already perceive as a nebulous singular entity becomes even more so in the books, which means the default option of "vive la revolution, burn the whole tyranny to the ground" a lot more viable and a lot more reasonable as an option. The whole thing is the problem, so removing all of it is the solution. I suspect Sanderson might be targeting that. He's not necessarily saying that "Yo, leave the government that was previously the problem in charge" is the correct thing to do (always assume that the depictions of stuff in a story are not representative of the authors own beliefs and worldview unless otherwise stated, this is Reading Comprehension 101) but he's definitely showing these problematic governments in a much more multifaceted light. Each book has a slightly different government with lots of different people inside of it, and some of those people really do mean well, so what would happen to them during a revolution? By depicting these governments in a way differing from the usual "we need to overthrow the whole government because it's a problem" tropes, Sanderson is getting his readers to think a lot more about governments in real life and the way they function, which means that when people DO want to make bigger societal changes they'll take important variables into consideration that they might have otherwise ignored.

(This could also explain why Sanderson expressed regret that he didn't make the Lord Ruler more nuanced, which is something I've seen you mention in other posts. TLR is completely evil and irredeemable and I completely agree with you that he should stay that way. Frick Rashek, he sucks and will always suck. But "nuanced" and "redeemable" are different IMO? A person can still be completely and utterly horrible while still having depth and nuance to their complete and utter horribleness, and Sanderson clearly wants his characters to seem realistic. TLR is pretty one-note flat character baddy, and I think that's what Sanderson regrets. Or maybe I'm completely wrong and we all dodged a serious bullet, but I'm inclined to give Sanderson the benefit of the doubt)

Which leads to possible reason number 3, the Doylist reasons: Sanderson is doing this because it subverts tropes, makes good stories, attracts more readers, and saves him effort in future stories. Basically, none of that list have anything to do with any in-story message, reason number 3 is all about the meta. As stated before, the "oh let's overthrow the government" is a pretty popular premise in speculative fiction (fantasy, sci-fi, etc) so it works as a really good hook to get readers invested. People LOVE underdog stories, and revolution stories are almost always underdog stories. Combine that with Sanderson's other trademarks (complex magic systems, interesting characters, varying perspectives on religion, etc) and you have the kinds of stories that magnetize readers to them. Sanderson knows how to make his books interesting. But at the same time, books can't just be interesting on the outset, they need to be interesting all the way through, and if people read a story and finish it and go "oh well that was a pretty bog-standard revolution plot" that's bad for branding. Having a twist in the plot like "oh wait, the evil government actually isn't evil" or "oh wait, the evil government is still evil but some of these people IN said government are well-meaning and sympathetic" and so on make things more INTERESTING. People always expect the revolution to overthrow the government in stories, so Sanderson makes that NOT HAPPEN in different ways to keep readers on their toes. He builds a reputation for excellent plot twists and conclusions where you never realize what's going to happen next, and suddenly his iconic Sanderlanches are raking in more readers than ever before. That's just good business! And it's also good from a writing perspective, at least for an author as prolific as Sanderson. He has to make plans for future books, and a lot of those future books have completely different settings. That's a ton of things to manage, and each of those settings comes with its own unique government infrastructure. And when a revolution completely overthrows a government, you know what that means? A completely new infrastructure needs to be made. When he's already making so many new settings, designing even MORE governments in the previously established settings is a LOT of extra work. By having some semblance of the original status quo remain in place at the end of each story, he minimizes the amount of extra work he'll have to do, which makes referring back to those stories in future works much easier. And its easier on us, too. We know how the world of Elantris works, and when other Cosmere stories reference it we can assume it's still functioning that way, instead of having to worry about like "oh no what's been going on on Sel, they could be referring to something completely different, we have no idea how our Raoden and Sarene are doing maybe the government exploded right after Elantris ended" we can just go "ah, business as usual, no need to worry about that" and then we aren't distracted from the current plot. People don't like Status Quo shifts, and by keeping the governments at least somewhat intact Sanderson is subtly reassuring us with "don't worry, stuff isn't going to change too much in the background where you can't see it".

I'm not saying that any of these are the sole reason why this trend exists, but I do think that at least or or two of them might have some part in it. Heck, maybe Sanderson isn't even aware that this trend exists! I really hope someone asks him about it at his next Q&A because I want to know his answer.

But I don't think it has to do with his Mormon beliefs, or at least not the beliefs about the creation of minorities that you're referring to. Why? Because that Doctrine you're talking about (that minorities are white turned to other races due to siding with Cain etc) doesn't exist. Are there Mormons who believe it? Yes. And they shouldn't, it's stupid, let me explain why.

(This is the part where I mention I'm LDS, and you all immediately ignore anything I'm saying, but whatever, in for a penny, in for a pound.)

The belief that people of African descent (or any other Non-white origin for that matter) are connected to Cain or his descendants in some way and are thus lesser because of said relation is a form of Christian Bigotry that is unfortunately both widespread AND really old. Various Christian sects have been using it as justification for cruelty against minorities for ages. We can see this a lot in the age of exploration right after the American continents were discovered. European Imperialism used Religion as one of the many reasons for colonization, including "we need to convert the savage heathens". It was often claimed that those of African descent were cursed due to being descended from Cain (via one of the sons of Noah, because that's definitely how population bottlenecks work and I hope you can tell how sarcastic I'm being about that) and had to pay that price for the sin of their ancestor. This concept of "the sins of their father" justifying cruelty against people is pretty widespread in mainstream Christianity even today (Original Sin, anyone?) so it's unsurprising that so many Christians would jump so readily to using it as an excuse for what was really just human tribalism leading to bigotry. Why are these people looking and acting differently than us? Clearly they must be cursed, and Cain was cursed so clearly they must be connected to him! Oh hey, Cain was a bad guy! Clearly his descendants must be bad too, thus justifying whatever bad thing we want to do with them including treating them as slaves! (Again, I am being sarcastic here, the people who believe this are wrong and stupid).

(Also at this point I should note that one of the key tenets of Mormonism explicitly disregards the concept of Original Sin. People are not held responsible for the actions of their ancestors, it's literally Article of Faith number 2. That applies to Adam, that applies to Cain, that applies to anything else. So even if there WAS a connection between Cain and those of non-white ancestry, and none has been proven to exist, it still couldn't be used to justify any racism or bigotry)

Anyway, back to colonialism and using Religion to justify heinous acts. When the United States started being a thing, the Protestant Reformation had been and was still in full swing. There were still tons of Catholics of course, but when it came to the states being Protestant was the name of the game, Christianity-wise. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was established in 1830 (aka during this time) and even though Mormonism is explicitly NOT Protestant due to the nature and purported intentions in its founding, it was still made of people that by and large had mostly been Protestant, and carried all of their internal biases and belief systems with them because that's what happens when people of one culture switch to another one. Then things of course got messy because literally everything involving religion ever is messy, and the growing Church was suddenly given a lot of reasons to act as Protestant a physically possible (such as being chased out by mobs). Even after feeing to Utah they still were given incentive to maintain their Protestant Viewpoints and Biases in order to continue to exist, and that led to (surprise!) continuing the racism and bigotry that had previously been part of their belief systems, whether consciously or unconsciously. Again, this wasn't part of their doctrine. While Mormons believe in an open canon, NONE of the texts they use have anything to do with the creations of non-white races at all, including any connection to Cain or some other punishment for sin (including the Bible, which yes Latter-Day Saints do use and are specifically instructed to study, and anyone who's read Genesis can tell you it doesn't say anything about race whatsoever during the creation, different skin tones come up much later after the text has moved on from focusing on the so-called "first family" of humanity, and even then it doesn't seem to ever tie skin color to a specific long-lasting curse). Any beliefs about minority races being cursed and deserving punishment or slavery for it initially came from other sources from outside the church's explicit doctrine.

("But what about that one part in the Book of Mormon" ah yes, the Lamanite curse. First of all, the curse itself wasn't skin color, though it'd be disingenuous of me to avoid mentioning that there was definitely a connection there. But Second of all, the Lamanite curse DEFINITELY didn't have anything to do with explicitly white or non-white ethnicities as we know them today. The main cast of characters at the start of the BoM is supposedly Middle Eastern in origin, so any terms they use to describe a person's race or appearance cannot and should not be interpreted through a white modernist lens and then used to justify bigotry. There have been and probably always will be Mormons who will do that anyway, but I hope I've been making it clear that the Mormons who do that in modern times are wrong and stupid. Like so many other things in scriptural texts it needs to be examined in freaking context instead of just using your first impressions and internal biases to interpret it however you want.)

So yes, the Mormon Church has and likely will continue to have tons of bigots in it, because Mormon Culture in United States (and especially the Jello Belt) has been basically trained Pavlov-style to act like white Evangelical Protestants, which is the group that holds strongest to their bigoted beliefs as I described above. That's how human tribalism works. But those racist beliefs (and any belief that's used to justify cruelty and hatred of any sort) is explicitly NOT part of Church's Doctrine, and both scripture and current Church Leadership on a world level have explicitly been like "hey, you people in the Church who are doing that, stop that, it's wrong and stupid". If you look at Latter-Day Saints outside of Utah and the US, who came into the Church without those cultural Christian biases, those beliefs that "black people are lesser because they're descended from Cain" are MUCH less prevalent.

When it specifically comes to Sanderson himself, he has made it clear that he takes his Religion seriously, and that includes studying it. We can absolutely see that in his works, he's hilariously bad at hiding it. But when it comes to this specific trend, I think it's much more to do the reasons I listed above than anything relating to racist beliefs of the supposed creation of minorities. Any Latter-Day Saint who actually bothers to study their own freaking religion instead of just taking it as unquestionable dogma can tell that racists and bigots within the church don't have a leg to stand on, and Sanderson strikes me as the type to do his research. He's come a long way in terms of depicting minority groups in his novels, and I just find it extremely unlikely that he's deliberately incorporating a belief like that, which an educated Latter-Day Saint is most likely not going to have.

TL;DR: Yeah, it's a trend, and it's really interesting and now I'm going to add it to me Sanderson Book Bingo Card. But I think it exists because of Sanderson's dedication to depicting multifaceted and realistic characters and societies, as well as its practicality from the standpoint of a prolific writer. I don't think it's connected (at least intentionally) to any Mormon beliefs about the creation and "inferiority" of minority groups, because Latter-Day Saints who strive to seriously study their religion (which Sanderson seems to be) will tell you that it's not part of LDS Doctrine and never has been despite the actions of many who continue to hold such beliefs and are wrong for it.

Yes, I'm aware that you have criticisms about the Mormon Church and Religious Beliefs in general, and I'm not telling you to stop having those criticisms. You and so many others have legitimate reasons to be critical of religious organizations, especially Christian ones considering their track record. None of this post is about that. By all means, keep being critical! Religion and belief in something in a higher power is something that should be taken seriously, and it should NOT be used to justify hatred and bigotry. To use religion to justify hate crimes (or abuse, or anything else deliberately harmful to other humans) is abhorrent. None of this post is meant to convince you to change your mind. To be blunt, I'm a rando on the internet who just likes seeing people talk about Stormlight and Worm, changing other people's minds about my religion isn't my job and I'm not going to make it my job. I'm making this post based entirely around your original post's premise, and why, based on what I know about Brandon Sanderson and what he's said about his writing and religion, I don't think any of it was intentionally based in any racist beliefs about minority groups, and is more likely rooted in his writing style.

Of course, I don't expect you to believe me when I say that because I just wrote a full freaking essay that probably came off as defensive (huzzah, internal biases dictating my actions despite my attempting to prevent that!), but really this is just what happens I have too much free time and not enough sleep. If you want to disregard everything I've just said, that's fine. I just felt like rambling.

One thing I noticed as I read Mistborn and compare it to Elantris and Stormlight Archives... is that Brandon Sanderson likes writing about class dynamics, classism, racism etc...

But he usually keeps the elites in charge? Maybe this is something that happens in different stories, but it's very interesting that in both stories that deal with slave uprisings and nobility being shitheads, none of them (so far) end up with nobility cast down completely. There's always at least a few who remain in charge are enlightened to lead the oppressed as an Emperor figure. I'm not making a total judgement call on it, it just hit me as I was considering the similarities between the Mistborn setting and the Stormlight one.

I'd love to pick at his brain with questions about why he went this route and how much of - at least from what it seems in Stormlight - was inspired by Mormon doctrine involving the "creation" of minorities (which is a fucking trip if none of yall have read it; go check out Cult to Consciousness where they cover it partially)

[marlowe1-blog]

"Clob" by Michael Stone (Teddy Bear Cannibal Massacre)

This one is painful

First, I must say that if Michael Stone is still alive and comes across this, I like Michael. Michael worked with me on this story and then he offered me the chance to publish the first decent Dybbuk Press collection which was BADASS HORROR. I mean he approached me because he had edited the collection and needed a publisher, but he was definitely a better editor than me. I don't know if he was actually offering money at the time but somehow he got five great stories (and one crappy one) before he proposed sending it to me. And unlike this collection, almost every writer in BADASS HORROR is still working.

But as a writer, oh boy. There are several problems with this story. First, it's the SECOND story in the collection with a funny magic sidekick. And unlike the magic crab one, Clob (who is either a talking fish or a pig) doesn't have much of a plot.

For some reason, I really liked stories about little magical (possibly imaginary) creatures who speak with heavy accents or local anachronisms. But was that really an excuse to buy this story?

I mean, ok, ultimately it turned out great as BADASS HORROR was a pretty damn good book, but this story is a nothing story where a guy is sitting in the breakroom of a hospital. He has no real character beyond having an imaginary friend. I don't even know what he does in the hospital. Is he a nurse? is he a doctor? The janitor? A transcriptionist?

Anyhow he has a crush on a nurse and the nurse has a crush on a doctor and the doctor is French and speaks like Pepe LePew so he tells a romantic story. The nameless narrator just kind of listens and then Clob gets the doctor to reveal that his romantic story was just to get into the girl's knickers (this phrase is used a couple times). So she is now into the narrator. Who is pretty nothing.

I wonder if this was a problem that I was working through at the time. Can I write a first person character that's interesting? I mean in first person stories there are two major traps to fall into - boring cipher or Holden Caulfield. A boring cipher is fine if they aren't the main character (like Nick in The Great Gatsby who starts out the book with one of the oldest cliches as if it's profound wisdom from his father) but if we are supposed to root for the guy, then why make him the dullest character in the book.

Unlike most of the stories that are half-formed stories that should be longer and more fleshed out, this is a ghost of a story, a rough outline of what could be a decent story if only the characters weren't so cliche. A man's imaginary friend messes with his crush's crush sounds like it might work, but if the crush is boring (she's a vegetarian and probably a "good girl") and the narrator is boring (he went through a lot of therapy) and even Clob the whacky imaginary friend is boring (he's an id so he makes a lot of dick jokes).

I wonder what Michael is doing now. It's been a long time since he's published anything. His novel came out in 2012 and it looks like it was self-published. https://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/ea.cgi?Michael_Stone is the bibliography.

So hopefully Michael Stone (or Mike Stone) is still around. Don't know if he needs to be writing but he seems to enjoy it and he introduced me to some pretty good writers.

[artzee-bee]

You love me? | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Request: “ I was wondering if I could make a request where the reader is Lucifers best friend and can always cheer him up. One day (maybe after something with his brother happens) he is really upset and no one can communicate with him so the reader comes over worried sick. I thought that maybe they could have a moment after but that’s entirely up to you if you would like to write this! If you are uncomfortable or you just don’t want to write this let me know! “

Genre: a good chuck on angst but fluffy ending

Warings: nothing besides some arguing

A/N: This turned out very differently than what I was initially going for but I hope it’s somewhat good

~~~

You were more than aware of how everyone saw Lucifer: eccentric, sarcastic, over the top, at times an insufferable ass. You couldn't exactly disagree with any of those, but somehow you and the handsome gentleman got to be an inseparable duo. 

You met him at Lux while out with your friends. His good looks caught the eye of mostly everyone inside the club, you included. He was attractive but you were stubborn. You weren't going to go out of your way just to talk to him, no way! Plus, you weren't exactly looking for a relationship or anything like that, so what was the point? You were only there for the drinks and the dancing, except you ended up being quite disappointed in the drinks department. The barman was slow and alcohol was a lot more expensive than you were anticipating.

You were waiting for your drink when he approached you. He was trying to get away from a girl that was freaking him out. He made a comment about being “so irresistible” and you replied with a joke about the crappy alcohol. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had been chatting with him for hours!! Your friends had gotten sick of waiting around for you to be done with your new pal, and left early, not that you minded much. You knew they were probably under the impression that you were trying to get in bed with him and they were mostly excited about how well it was going for you, so they weren’t mad and you were enjoying yourself.

After that night, you and Lucifer became more or less inseparable. Almost every night was now spent either at Lux or in his penthouse, chatting and drinking liquor. Lucifer would visit you at work every now and then, when a case he was working on would get on his nerves. He would sometimes drag you to the station to “keep him company”. You were, in other words, his moral support.

This position came with a lot of wild adventures and incredible stories, but also with a lot of difficulties. Lucifer wasn’t the easiest to talk to when his emotions got the best of him. He had a tendency to shut down and avoid real life at all costs. You’ve been with him through that many times before and you were convinced that there was nothing he could do to shock you anymore.

Late in the evening, you got a call from Mazikeen. She was fuming and screaming over the phone about how Lucifer was in a mood and he went off on her for no reason and that you better get to him and figure it out because she was over it. You’ve received many phone calls like this, so you weren’t alarmed but as soon as you entered the penthouse and saw the mess that was covering every square inch of the place, you began to question your judgement.

“Lucifer?” you asked but he didn’t reply. You called out to him a couple more times, until you finally found him tightly tucked in bed. 

“Luci?”

“Yeah…” his voice was muffled by the blanket and his eyes were shut

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing at all darling, I was just going to sleep”

“It’s 8 pm”

“Yeah, well, tough day at the station today. Not easy solving crime, you know?” “Oh really?” you questioned, to which Lucifer nodded slightly “Funny thing, I talked to Decker not too long ago actually. She hasn’t seen you all day.” Lucifer’s eyes stayed shut

“Don’t lie to me Lucifer” finally, you got his attention. He stood up with an exhausted sigh and rested against the bed frame

“What happened?”

“It’s just...Amenadiel…”

“What about him?”

“Always so curious, aren’t we Y/N?” he got up from the bed and headed towards the bar in the main area with you following close behind

“I’m trying to help you” “I don’t recall ever asking for it” his tone was harsh, but you’ve heard worse from him

“That never stopped me before”

“It never does any good either and yet here you are”

“Yes it does, you always tell me I’m a huge help” Lucifer frowned at your words, knowing full well you were right. He poured himself a drink, choosing to stay silent “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s bothering you”

“It’s a fight between brothers, just like many others we’ve had before and we’ll keep on having for the rest of eternity probably”

“You’re really bothered by it”

“I am not!” his tone was firm. For just a second his eyes flashed red.

“It’s ok to feel upset”

“I am not upset!” he screamed, his face all of a sudden red and hot.  His devil face. Blood red eyes piercing your soul, a threatening smile displayed his sharp, yellow teeth . You’ve seen this side of him before. You could say you were even somewhat accustomed to it, except you've never seen him do this. Use it as a weapon against you. To threaten you, to push you away. That, more than anything, was what scared you. You’ve seen him so angry at times and yet not once did he change out of rage. You stepped back, almost tripping and falling back in the bed but Lucifer reached out and caught your hand. He held it softly, as if you were made of sand. As if you would slip from his grip any second

“Y/N?” when you looked back up to him, his face was back to normal “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t realise I-”

“I’m just trying to be a good friend Lucifer”

“I know you are”

“I didn’t deserve that Lucifer” his eyes were full of sorrow and regret. You could see tears threatening to spill and you almost felt this man crumble in the palm of your hand. You pulled him into a tight hug and as soon as your arms went around his waist, Lucifer nuzzled his face in your hair and began to sob

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t mean to do that…”

“It’s ok Luci”

“You didn’t deserve that”

“Yes but you’ve apologised, I forgive you. Everything is ok” Lucifer pulled away slightly, just enough so he could look into your eyes without leaving your embrace. His face was red and stained with tears.

“How do you do that? How can you always forgive so easily?” he asked as you wiped away some of the tears with the sleeve of your shirt

“Well, with you it’s quite easy. I care too much about you to stay mad.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t believe you “Plus, I know you. You are kind and caring and would never do anything to hurt me. You have a hard time managing your anger sometimes, sure, but you are working to improve.” You cupped his face with your left hand and Lucifer immediately leaned into your touch

“I’m doing my best.” he said

“And I’ll be here for you. No matter how much you dislike it sometimes!” you giggled, but than Lucifer whispered something in your palm

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Luci.”

“No, I love you Y/N” he took a step back as he said that, the closeness between you two suddenly too much to bear. You looked at him with glossy eyes, scanning his features as if you weren’t sure you heard him right and each look made Lucifer want to crawl back into the pits of hell because he was not worthy of you and he knew that.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t the right moment, I should have just-”

“Lucifer” your voice was warm and welcoming which only made the devil feel worse. You were trying to reject him nicely, he just knew it!

“Yes?”

“You love me?” when he didn’t reply, you took a step closer, asking him again “Are you in love with me Lucifer?”

“Yes” he was crumbling once again under you. He was the devil and he’s known no weakness but somehow, someway, you managed to bring him to his knees with a single glance and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did I get the devil to fall in love with me?”

“Perhaps..” you looked him in the eyes. You were once again standing close to him and Lucifer felt weak

“Good” you said, before grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and placing your lips on his, kissing him hard. Lucifer didn’t realise at first what you did, boldness wasn’t exactly your thing, but then, almost naturally, his arms went around your waist, pulling you into him. He felt his worries and tears fade away with every second that he felt your lips on his. He swore in that moment that no matter what, he would never ever push you away again. You were way too important!

[kilodalton]

How I went from writing semi-decent X-rated fanfic to writing for $$$

I was thinking about making this post for a while, but held off bc 1) I didn't want to get hate, and 2) procrastination ftw.

Also 3) I couldn't think of a good title for this post (I can never think of good fanfic titles either so hey at least I'm consistent lol), and while the one I chose does sound like a crappy ad, lol please bear with me.

First the obligatory About Me: I started writing fanfic about 10 years ago when I was a new mom and had just started my pharmacy degree (in the US, it's a doctorate and a lot of work). I was pretty miserable at that point in my life and fanfic was a wonderful outlet for me. After I graduated, I unfortunately let a lot of fanfic things slide (sorry about the half-finished-years-old fics, I *will* get to them I promise lol) as I completed postgrad training, had another kid, and started my career.

It was around that point that I realized that yes, I did have a well-paying career but 1) HELLO STUDENT LOANS and 2) kids are $$$$ and 3) wtf I just wanted more money OK is that a crime.

So I started reading a bit about income/money/stuff and they recommended a few things. The main points were that to increase your cash, you can either decrease your expenses or increase your income. I mean DUH, but it actually helped seeing such an obvious statement in black and white.

I had already reduced my expenses and felt like reducing them more would compromise my standard of living. So making more money it was! I knew my job wouldn't provide it, so I was looking for other opportunities.

I had heard about a couple of different freelancing websites, and the one that stuck with me was UpWork. I decided to test it out, maybe I would be qualified for something there.

I found A LOT of writing jobs listed. Like A LOT. In so many different niches it boggled the mind. I settled on medical writing for obvious reasons, but they all wanted "real" writing experience which I didn't have (lol somehow I don't think fanfic pr0n counts).

Anyway, so here's the meat of this post. I made my OWN writing experience. Mainly by writing a few articles on Medium (which is free to post on), and one unpaid oped for a medical website that had been advertising for unpaid writers. I knew I wanted PAID writing gigs at this point, so my unpaid articles on Medium etc were on similar topics to the ones I knew I wanted to get paid to do.

I also took a little time to learn about SEO - search engine oriented - writing. Basically it helps your writing be found in a google search, which a lot of websites obviously want.

At that point, when I applied for writing jobs, I could tick a few different boxes: YES I had writing experience (I could attach links to my Medium articles in my applications) and YES I was familiar with SEO writing.

The main stumbling block was how much to charge. That one is tricky and highly variable. The nice thing on Upwork is that the client often has a budget, so you can look at it and decide "yes that is OK" or "OH HELL NO LMAO." It's up to you. I certainly charge some clients much more than others (like 3x as much) simply bc I know they are willing to pay it. And I certainly undercharge others I have a soft spot for (one of my clients is a Navy veteran, and I support the military, so I gave him a steep discount).

Anyway. Fast forward almost 2 years. I have had about ~30 different clients, and regularly still work with about 10 of them. I have weekly contracts with 6 different clients, and write/review/edit around 20 articles a week. I do it in my spare time, after work or on weekends, but it has increased my income by about 30%.

I have even shut off my Upwork visibility at this time, because I have gotten to the amazing point where I keep getting requests and have no time to handle more articles lol.

My clients are all in the medical field because that's my specialty, but they range from personal blogs, to vitamin companies, to an addiction rehab center, to a chiropractor's office, to support websites for various chronic diseases.

Anyway. I started off writing fanfic, and eventually managed to turn my writing into something quite profitable. I know a lot of people are budding writers here so wanted to share my story for inspiration/in case anyone wants a similar path. That is all.

Feel free to send an ask if you have questions!

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Finish Your First Draft

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Aiden Thomas is here to share some advice on pushing through to the end of November: Hello Friends! My name is Aiden Thomas, I am the New York Times bestselling author of Cemetery Boys and I’m your Nano Coach for the dreaded week 3 of National Novel Writing Month!

I think most authors would agree that they hit a wall around the 30K mark of their manuscript. You’ve ridden out the high and novelty of Week 1; Week 2 things started to get tricky as you got deeper into your plot; and now you’re on Week 3. Right about now, your stakes are high, your character is facing some challenges, and very likely so are you. At this point it’s easy to get stuck, so I wanted to give you some advice on how to keep pushing forward.

The first and most important thing to realize is that your rough draft will never live up to your vision—and it’s not supposed to! First drafts are supposed to be crappy. The story you have in your head will never be exactly as you want it on the page the first time, and especially not in 30 days! Right now, you just need to get the words down. Stories become beautiful books with revisions, not during a fast draft!

So, how do you keep pushing forward and get that crappy rough draft done so you can hit your NaNoWriMo goal and start revising? I’ve got some tips!

1. Talk it Out

The most helpful resource to me as an author are my writing friends and critique partners! When I get stuck, I usually send them a Google Doc with the challenges I’m facing and we talk them through and come up with solutions. About half the time, I don’t even take their advice, but just bouncing ideas around helps me come up with an answer! Sometimes getting out of your own head and just talking it out with someone—even someone who isn’t a writer!—can give you the inspiration you need to break through writer’s block.

2. Bullet Points

Okay, this is lowkey Plotter propaganda, BUT JUST BEAR WITH ME! I often get stuck with the crushing stress of hitting my writing goal to the point where I freeze up, unable to move forward. Looking at the larger plot can be totally overwhelming, so try focusing smaller accomplishments that feel more manageable. By taking it one scene at a time and really breaking down the sequence of events, you’re setting yourself up for success by hitting achievable goals!

3. Take Note

Plot holes are a total pain and can pop up out of nowhere! When you figure out there's a problem with your plot, or maybe just a detail you realized needs to be changed 20,000 words earlier, don’t get distracted! When that happens, take note of it (either leaving a comment within the manuscript or writing a list) and fix it during the next draft. You probably want to fix it immediately, but now is not the time! This is a crappy first draft, remember? And you’re on a deadline! 

4. Focus Time

Writing sprints are a whole thing in the NaNoWriMo community, but I find them intimidating! The pressure to write a bunch of words quickly in a set amount of time sometimes just makes me freeze up completely and I get nothing written! A lot of folks don’t work well under that kind of stress, especially if you’re “competing” with friends to get the highest word count. What I find MUCH more helpful are doing “focuses”. I’ll pick an amount of time (usually 30 minutes) and commit to doing nothing but writing for those 30 minutes, no distractions! It takes some of the pressure off and it’s a lot easier to reason with myself to get writing done if it’s “just for 30 minutes.” After the focus time, I can get a snack or mess around on Twitter, but for those 30 minutes I am entirely invested in writing!

The most important thing to remember is that by November 30th—regardless of if you hit 50K or not—you will have gotten more of your story written than you did November 1st, and that’s still a success! Take a deep breath, try not to put too much pressure on yourself, and keep moving forward.

Aiden Thomas is a New York Times Bestselling author with an MFA in Creative Writing. Originally from Oakland, California, they now make their home in Portland, Oregon. As a queer, trans, Latinx, Aiden advocates strongly for diverse representation in all media. Aiden’s special talents include: quoting The Office, finishing sentences with “is my FAVORITE”, and killing spiders. Aiden is notorious for not being able to guess the endings of books and movies, and organizes their bookshelves by color.

[shwazzberryswriting]

Raising Liberty

Pairing: Yangyang x Original Female Character|Reader (MAIN), Bae Jinyoung (CIX) x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Hook-Ups, Angst

Summary: As he helps Chenle take care of his condo, Yangyang gets to know one of the neighbors

Word count: 13.7k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content, heavy usage of swearing *Part 4 of my "The NCT Frat House Series"*

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this Yangyang fic. I had so much fun writing it although it gave me so much trouble, because I just could not stop writing. I couldn't help myself when I put Bae Jinyoung in here, either, which did not make the writing process go by any faster. I feel like I could have edited this more, so apologies ahead of time for any errors or shortcomings! **13.05.2021: Tumblr's been weird with this fic, I keep finding snippets missing for no reason at all. I'm trying to figure out what's going on, so I'm sorry if the story doesn't make sense? Blame my bad writing, IDK**

*Special Thank You to @toastedqueso for suggesting Bae Jinyoung for this fic*

------

The apartment at the other end of the hall was blasting hip hop music, and the skunky smell of marijuana was strong even from where Bian stood. Smoke was lazily drifting out down the dimly lit hallway, and she could only ignore the couple making out next to the stairs as she opened the door to her apartment. She shut the door behind her and locked it, the music only slightly muffled now.

She tried to take her usual three steps to the left to turn on the light in the kitchen. However, her feet immediately collided into something that should not have been on the ground and fell flat on her stomach. Her bag of hair dye and candy crashed loudly with her onto the tiled floor as she shouted, “Goddamnit!”

She was met with two breathless voices.

“Ow! What the-”

“Fuck, what was that?”

The first belonged to her roommate, Kayla.The second voice she didn’t recognize.

Scrambling to her feet, Bian placed her hands on the wall for support before turning the lights on in the kitchen. She looked over to see two naked bodies intertwined on the cheap grey Ikea loveseat she and Kayla bought 6 months before. Her face grew hot as she turned her back to the sight of Kayla with her date. She could hear them frantically picking their clothes up off the floor. Bian looked down to her feet and saw what tripped her, a pair of red and white high top Nike’s.

“Bian! What the fuck?” she heard Kayla say.

“You have a bedroom,” Bian replied, walking sideways toward her bedroom while trying to keep her back to the living room. “You knew I was working tonight.”

“I just got home! I thought you were in bed already.”

“I had to work late!” She whipped around to look Kayla in the face, a different sort of heat hitting her. She was getting tired of Kayla’s bullshit, and she didn't care how naked the pair were anymore. “Even if I had come home on time, I would have been sleeping in my bed. What the fuck would have happened if I woke up and walked out of my room? We agreed to keep bedroom activities in the bedrooms. Privacy!”

“I should, uh, leave,” Kayla’s date said as he walked over to grab the Nike’s, flipping his shiny brown hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, you should.”

“Bian! You don’t have to be so fucking rude! I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

Rolling her eyes as Kayla and her date said goodbye to each other, Bian walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Fuck Kayla, she was turning her hair blue. She’d had a crappy night at her job as a stocker in the Walgreens near the university campus. Not only did she have to work on a Friday night and miss out on partying with her peers, but she had to stay a couple hours late. She didn't make it home until nearly 1:00 AM.

Before leaving work, Bian purchased one box of Splat’s Blue Envy hair dye kit with a bag of gummy bears. She had decided that she needed to do something exciting in her life. As she mixed the bleach powder with the toning liquid in a plastic bowl, Bian thought about walking in on Kayla having sex with a guy. She begrudgingly gave them a point for being part of the excitement.

“Bian.” She heard Kayla knock on the door. “That was really rude. Do you know who my date was? What are the NCT fraternity going to think of me now?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bian replied, looking over at her door. “Our contract's up at the end of the month."

She smirked as she heard Kayla's footsteps walk down the hall. Kayla had been begging Bian to extend their contract for another month since Kayla was still looking for a new roommate. After the shoe tripping accident, Kayla was shit out of luck with the contract extension. Bian had signed up for the student housing program she found at the local YMCA.

She already had a studio apartment set up for her to move into soon with the assistance of a privately funded non-profit. They helped students find a rent controlled studio in various complexes surrounding the university throughout the city. She had given the roommate thing a try, but clearly it wasn't working out.

--

It was nice to come home to a quiet place all to herself. And if there was a mess waiting for her to clean up, Bian appreciated that it was her own mess she had to clean up. The only downside was that whenever anything scary or alarming happened she was on her own. There was no one around to bounce off her reaction, and she took action before thinking under high stress too often.

Her first scary encounter happened on her third Saturday living alone. She’d woken up late and was preparing coffee when she heard a strange noise, like squeaky wheels. Looking around for the source, she set her phone down onto the countertop as she walked toward her fridge, where she thought the noise was loudest. Right below the door of the fridge was a small grey mouse, and its tiny toes were pattering away toward her stove.

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Bian ran out of her studio apartment. She jumped around and swiped at her arms and legs, the mental image of the pink and very tiny paws of the mouse making her skin crawl. There was a slight breeze that caused the warm air to whip her shoulder length hair into her eyes. Another gust of wind caused the hem of her shorts to brush against the curve of her ass cheeks.

Flipping her hair out of her eyes with one hand while her other adjusted her shorts to cover her ass cheeks entirely, Bian felt embarrassed. She was standing outside in nothing but a pair of pastel blue shorts and an old grey tshirt. She jumped backwards as she saw the mouse run out of her apartment through the front door.

She felt her yelp catch in her throat as her feet tripped on something lumpy. She fell backwards into the door behind her. Groaning as she grabbed the door frame, Bian’s back hurt from slamming into the door. By kicking her left leg behind her slightly she was able to plant her feet flat onto the ground, but scraped the side of her pinky toe against the concrete floor.

“Shit.” She groaned again as she stood up straight. Looking down, she saw that the skin near her toe had been scratched hard enough that small beads of blood began forming. A familiar pair of red and white high top Nike’s were lying on their side beside her feet. “No fucking way.”

The door behind her opened, and she turned around to come face to face with the very person that had come up in her mind when she saw the shoes. His angular face was as sharp as ever, and his skin looked as smooth as she recalled it to be. His hair was a lumpy mess, but still very shiny. He wore nothing but a pair of black boxers, an improvement from their first encounter.

Her gaze locked on him, and his brown eyes widened after a couple seconds. His mouth had been slightly ajar, but he closed it before turning to grab something beside the door. He turned back to face her, throwing on a black leather jacket.

“I heard loud noises,” he said, his eyes drifting down to the ground. “Shit! Are you OK?” He pointed to her bleeding toe before looking up and holding his hand out to her. “Let me help. Does it hurt?”

“Your fucking shoes,” she couldn’t help muttering, though she placed her hand in his, seeing his cheeks turn pink. “Why are they outside?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, “...drunk night, bro.”

She inhaled sharply as her pinky toe screamed in pain when she applied pressure on it. She couldn’t even walk ten steps to fall onto her couch in misery.

“Your place?” he asked as he looked at her, moving her arm to drape around his neck.

He hooked his arm around her shoulders so that he could support her weight as she tried not to put too much pressure onto her injured toe. Nodding, she let him lead her into her place. He helped her sit down onto her olive green loveseat at the far right end of the room.

“You live with Chenle?” was the first thing out of her mouth once she was seated.

Chenle lived directly on the other side of the hall, and a fellow university student. She suspected he didn’t need to go on a student assistance program to find a place to live on his own. For starters, she lived in a small studio while he lived in a 3 bedroom condo by himself.

They met a couple days after she finished unpacking during her first week living alone. She had been throwing out her cardboard boxes, and he was leaving his place to take his dog out for a walk. She struck up a conversation with him. Middle age tech workers and their young families made up the majority of residents in their complex, so it was nice to see a fellow young adult around.

Bian and Chenle had completely different schedules, however. They’d been able to have random 5 minute hallway catchup conversations. Usually, Chenle was coming home from his job at a radio station when Bian was leaving for her job. At most, they were friendly, but Bian would have preferred to have Chenle see her in such a pathetic state. At least she’d never seen Chenle naked.

“I’m flat sitting,” the stranger replied, standing up and gazing around her place. “Where are your bandaids?”

“My bathroom is behind the kitchen, medicine cabinet to the left.”

She set her foot onto the edge of her coffee table, and groaned. Blood was starting to trickle down the side of her foot. Wordlessly, the guy returned and knelt down. After wiping the injuries clean with an alcohol wipe, the shirtless stranger rubbed antibiotic cream onto her skin before covering her cuts securely with bandaids.

"Thank you," she said softly when he sat down beside her. He seemed unable to look at her, so she blurted out the only thing going through her mind. “Your shoes need to be burned.”

“What?” He whipped his head up to meet her eyes. “No way, bro. Those are Air Jordan 1’s. They’re thousand dollar shoes.”

“They’re cursed. I tripped on them twice. I drew blood this time.”

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I...you have blue hair now."

She ran a hand through her hair, and gave a shrug. His shoes and her hair were the only things she wanted to talk about in reference to their first meeting. She tried to remember his name, but all she recalled was Kayla mentioning the NCT fraternity.

"You're in the NCT fraternity?"

He nodded.

"I'm Yangyang."

"Bian," she said, holding her hand out. He grinned and they quickly shook hands. "So you're watching Chenle’s dog?”

“Daegal went to China with Chenle. He’s gone for a month, so I offered to take care of his place.”

“Are you tired of living with all those guys in that big frat house?”

He chuckled and nodded.

“So what happened?” he asked, looking around her place again. “I heard screaming.”

“I saw a mouse in my kitchen.”

He laughed, throwing a fist over his mouth. She was just about to ask him if he wanted coffee, but changed her mind. Clearing his throat, he turned his laughs into a cough, which sent an irritation up the back of her neck, an eye roll threatening to come.

“I saw it leave my apartment when I was freaking out,” she said. “Maybe bring your shoes inside? It’s probably shitting inside one of your Air Jordan’s right now.”

He immediately got up and walked out. Taking careful steps with her left foot, Bian walked to close her front door. Outside, Yangyang was holding his shoes upside down, shaking them before taking a peek inside each shoe.

“Yangyang.” He looked at her. “Thanks.”

He nodded with a faint smile before turning around to walk back into Chenle’s condo.

--

Two days after a small mouse terrorized her, Bian was Facetiming with her best friend, Lulu, when there was a knock on her front door. Turning away from Lulu's face on her laptop monitor, she got up from her desk and walked to open her door. Yangyang was fully clothed with a measuring cup in his hand.

“Can I borrow some milk?” he asked after greeting her. “I’ll go shopping after I eat, and I’ll buy you a big carton of milk to return the favor.”

“Come in,” she said. “Don’t worry about buying me milk.”

“Hey!”

Yangyang looked over to her desk that sat behind her couch. Bian grinned as she saw Yangyang wave to Lulu, who was waving frantically. Lulu’s arms were a pixelated mess. Bian took the milk out of her fridge and handed it to Yangyang. He set his measuring cup onto her kitchen countertop before pouring the exact amount he needed. He thanked her before leaving.

“Who was that?” Lulu asked after Bian put the milk away.

“Air Jordan 1’s.”

“No fucking way! He’s cute.”

“He hooked up with Kayla,” she replied, seating herself at her desk again.

“So what? You were just roommates.”

“Lulu, if you’re horny, you can go have a sex life of your own. I’m not interested.”

“It’s too bad I’m not there. I would totally ask that guy out.”

“He seems like a player.”

“I’m fine with that. One night? Cool. Fuck buddies? That’s cool, too.”

“What happened to Fernando?”

Lulu pursed her lips before sitting back in her seat and replied, “We’re not supposed to talk about him.”

“My bad.” Bian threw her hand over her mouth for a moment. Fernando had been a Fuck Buddy Lulu caught feelings for. Things didn’t work out well when Lulu confessed her feelings to Fernando. “Uhh, did I tell you that the back of my neck is blue now?”

Lulu smiled, rolling her eyes.

“You’re going to make people think you have a skin condition,” she said, pulling her hair up into a bun. “How long are you going to keep your hair blue?”

“Until I run out of the blue dye,” Bian replied, twirling her hair with her index finger. “My hair’s going to be a mess for awhile. Did you finish your paper about parasocial relationships on YouTube?”

“No. I hate homework.”

Bian laughed. Lulu had thrown her face down onto her desk and groaned.

“I’ll let you go so you can finish your homework. Think about your scholarship. Think about the money. You need to do well.”

“When we see each other again, I’m totally taking you out for drinks. Nothing will get done without you, BB!”

Bian and Lulu said their goodbyes, and Bian got into bed to take a short nap. As she closed her eyes, she thought about how much she missed her best friend. If only Lulu had decided to move out West with her instead of going off to Penn State. Then again, Bian and Kayla were friendly classmates when they decided to become roommates, and now they didn’t talk. She was going to remain grateful that she got the occasional Facetime chat with Lulu.

--

There was a knock on the door. Bian opened her eyes slowly as the knocking continued. Her place was completely dark. She turned over to lie down on her back, closing her eyes again.

“Bian? Are you home?”

It was Yangyang. Would this man give her no peace? She sat up to grab her phone, and shook her head after seeing that it was close to 9:00 PM. So much for a short nap, she’d slept her whole evening away. The knocking continued. Wordlessly, Bian dragged her feet as she made her way to her door, taking her time to turn on the lights in her place.

“Hey,” she said when she opened her door. Yangyang was running a hand through his hair, and he glanced over his shoulder before turning back to look at her. “Is everything OK?”

“Did you hear any weird noises?”

“I can’t say,” she replied, leaning up against her door frame. “I was napping. I woke up when I heard you knocking. Did you hear something?”

“I mean, it might be nothing.”

“What were the noises?”

“Uh...like,” he reached over and scratched his fingers on her door, “and,” he tapped his hands against the door in a gentle pitter-patter. He took a step back, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she tried not to laugh or smile. Her cheeks hurt as she sucked on her bottom lip, attempting not to smile. He frowned. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Right, my safety is of your utmost concern.” She cleared her throat, her laughing fit finally having passed.

“Hey, I’m your neighbor now. I understand that means we should look out for each other.”

“Well, all right, neighbor. I’ll keep my ears out for horror movie noises.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she said, standing up straight, “I just think maybe you’re exaggerating.”

“I don’t exaggerate,” he said, tilting his chin up slightly. “The best I can explain it is that way.”

“So it might be a ghost?”

“It can be anything.”

“Yangyang, are you afraid of ghosts?”

“No. I’m not afraid of anything, bro. Besides, you’re the one who thinks my shoes are cursed, and you’re going to make fun of ghosts?”

“Good night, Yangyang. I’ll listen for the scratching and...tapping.”

He ran his hand through his hair again, and turned away. She shut the door and locked it, leaning against the door for a few moments. It was rude of her to mock him. But he was so childish to pretend that he wasn’t scared when he clearly was.

Shrugging, she turned on the light in her kitchen, and began making herself a late dinner. An hour hadn't even passed when she was eating her fried rice and there was another knock on her door.

“Bian?”

She rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the Netflix drama she was watching on her laptop. Yangyang was a shitty neighbor. Even when they were arguing he was knocking on her door. She missed Chenle. She was going to bake him cookies when he returned.

Thanks for not annoying me, Chenle. You’re the neighbor of the year.

“I’m sorry. I am afraid of ghosts. When I was a kid, my best friend and I heard some noises in the shed in his backyard. We went in there, and I thought he was playing with me, but we saw something. The screwdriver, bro, it fell, like, like, we weren’t even near it.”

She paused her show, and set her bowl down onto the coffee table. Yangyang had to legitimately be scared if he was knocking and telling a childhood story to her door. She couldn't sleep anymore anyway.

“Bian? Are you there?”

“It’d be funny if you were talking to the ghost, and not me,” she replied when she opened the door. “I’m sorry for mocking you. Did you want to come in?”

“Thanks,” he replied, taking a step in. He took his slippers off, and chuckled as he sat down on her couch. “This is way more comfortable than the grey one.”

“Yeah, Kayla kept it.” He gave a guffaw. “Are you hungry? I made fried rice with chicken and shrimp.”

“Thanks.” He sat back in his seat as she walked to her kitchen. “I’ve heard about this phenomenon where people wake up but they can't move, like there's something heavy on their chest. In Mexico, they refer to it as the devil sitting on your chest.”

“That’s creepy. Now I won't be able to sleep, even if I was tired." She opened her fridge as she heard him give another laugh. "Do you want water? Milk? Soda?”

“Soda! Fancy, bro. Thanks.”

They sat side by side, and watched National Treasure. Nicolas Cage movies always cheered her up, and National Treasure was second only to Face/Off in terms of her favorite Cage movies, but she watched Face/Off exclusively with Lulu. Yangyang was fun to watch the movie with. They spent the majority of the movie plotting their own treasure heist in Washington DC.

When the movie was ending, Bian froze as she heard a noise at her front door. It sounded like a soft scratching. She reached over and shook Yangyang’s knee, feeling a cold sensation creep over her. The scratching continued.

“Do you hear that?” Yangyang whispered.

She turned to look at him and nodded. They stood and slowly made their way to the door. The scratching continued, and then there was a soft mewling. She shivered. Weren’t there ghost stories where monsters made animal noises to lure victims? Yangyang seemed to mistrust the mewling too as he picked up her red umbrella hanging on her coat rack. She looked through the peephole, and saw nothing. She shivered again.

“I don't see anyone,” she said softly.

He took a deep breath and unlocked the door before opening it slowly, cracking it open just the slightest. The mewling continued, and Yangyang swung the door open before stooping down to pick something up. Bian stepped closer, and saw a small black cat with a white tail in his arm. He set the umbrella back onto the rack.

“It looks like it hurt its paw,” Yangyang said, pointing to the cat’s front left paw. It dangled over his arm while the right paw was resting on his arm.

“What should we do?”

“Maybe we should take it to the vet? I don't know how to dress animal wounds. Is there one nearby?”

Bian grabbed her phone to do a quick search.

“There’s a 24 Hour Veterinary clinic 10 minutes away from here. It says the wait time is about 45 minutes.”

Wordlessly, she grabbed her jacket and purse. Turning around, she saw Yangyang walk to Chenle’s condo with the cat. She put on her socks and sneakers before double checking her purse for her keys and wallet. Once she locked her door, she stared at Yangyang’s shoes as he locked his door. He was wearing his cursed Air Jordan 1's. Their eyes met. She chose not to say anything, though she saw him trying to disguise a smile.

“Is it a 10 minute walk?” he asked as she led them down the stairs.

“Yes." She turned over to see Yangyang petting the cat on the head. “Do you think it’s a house cat?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem feral, but it doesn’t have a collar either. I looked online and I think it can’t be older than, like, 6 months old.”

They were at the veterinary clinic for a couple hours, both worried for the unnamed cat as they pet it to keep it calm. The cat had a sprained ankle, and had its paw wrapped up. They discovered the cat was a girl, and decided to name her Liberty in honor of Nicolas Cage stealing the Declaration of Independence.

Making a quick visit to her workplace, Bian and Yangyang bought Liberty some supplies. They returned home around 3:00 AM, but Yangyang set up food and water while Bian placed the cushion next to the couch. Liberty sat beside Yangyang as he poured water into a small metal dish. She drank the water while he poured some dry Meow Mix into a separate dish. Yangyang set up the kitty litter next to the patio door, walking Liberty back and forth from the food dish to the kitty litter.

It was nearing dawn when Bian talked Yangyang into sleeping on her couch with Liberty. It was late, and Liberty was attached to him. They hadn't heard back from Chenle on whether or not cats were allowed in his condo. As soon as she got into bed she fell asleep with her jeans still on.

--

When she woke up, she heard soft meowing and Yangyang singing. He was singing in a foreign language. Bian wasn’t very good at distinguishing languages. She could speak English and some Viet (very casually only), but beyond that she couldn’t distinguish foreign languages apart easily. Sitting up, she turned to look at her couch.

Yangyang was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. Liberty was resting in his lap. He was clapping and singing, but not very loud. Liberty meowed a few times, as if she was singing with him.

Bian smiled as he continued to sing when Liberty got off his lap. Bian used that moment to turn around onto her back, and stretch her arms. When she sat up, Yangyang had stopped singing, and was getting up onto his feet.

“Morning,” she said, slowly getting off her bed. “Have you been up long?”

“Nah. I got up like, 5 minutes ago.”

“What were you singing?”

He winced, his left eye squinting as he looked away from her. He tried adjust his face to seem nonchalant.

“Just ‘Schnappi’.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing,” he said looking over to Liberty. "German nursery rhyme. Did you see? Liberty knows how to find her food and kitty litter. She’s a fast learner.”

Bian walked over and sat down next to Liberty, watching the cat lap up water with her bright pink tongue.

“Do you think we should ask the property management office about finding a cat?” she asked, taking out her phone. She took a few photos. Yangyang sat down close to Liberty and joined in on taking pictures of her. “Maybe someone will report their pet missing.”

“We could knock on the other neighbors’ doors. I don’t know how an injured kitten could have climbed up a flight of stairs.”

“You think she fell from above?”

“It would explain her injury. We should ask the neighbors on the ground level, too.”

Bian got up and fried some eggs to eat with her leftover fried rice. As they ate, they went over their day’s plan. She was able to send an email to the property management with a picture she’d taken of Liberty. They planned to take Liberty out to knock on their neighbor’s doors after they freshened up for the day. An hour after they finished eating, Bian brought Liberty outside before shutting and locking her door.

“Are we ready?” Yangyang asked when he’d come out and locked the door to Chenle’s place. Liberty lifted her head and began mewling, turning her head around.

“She’s already picking favorites,” Bian said, frowning. She held Liberty out to Yangyang.

“Liberty,” Yangyang said, holding the cat in his arms, close to his chest, “you have to be nice to Bian. It’s her home you live in. She’s the one who bought you your food and bed. Be nice.”

He scratched her head, and Bian reached over to stroke her back. Liberty set her head down, settling comfortably in Yangyang’s arms. With his free hand, he brushed his hair out of his eyes and held the cat out to her. Wordlessly, she shook her head and led the way to the stairs. She knew when to accept defeat.

“Come on. I think we should start at the fourth floor and make our way down.”

After an hour of knocking on doors, and telling the same story about the weird noises and finding the hurt cat multiple times, there was no owner for Liberty. Of the 14 other apartments in their building, 10 opened their doors and none of them had a missing kitten. They left a note at the front door to the 4 unanswered units.

“I have to work tonight,” Bian said when they returned to her place. “Chenle texted me to remind you that absolutely no cats in his place. Do you think Liberty will be OK alone?”

“I can watch her. I’ll bring her with me to my room at the frat house. I’ll come back when you’re off work.”

“You’re OK with taking the bus?”

“It’s a ten minute ride, it’s cool.”

--

Bian had finished her morning shift, and was excited to go home. Yangyang had invited her to the NCT frat party that was being thrown that night. She hadn’t been to a house party in months. She was in need of getting liquored up. She wanted to have a drunken smoke while rattling off about nothing with some friends. When she made it home, Yangyang was sitting at the top of the stairs with Liberty in his lap.

In the 3 weeks since they’d found Liberty, no one had contacted either of them about the cat they found. They had walked around the neighborhood to look at Missing Pet flyers while posting up Found Cat flyers to share. Since there were still no answers from anyone, Bian and Yangyang worked up a schedule to watch Liberty since she was still recovering from her sprained ankle. Yangyang brought Liberty to classes with him, hiding her in his jacket or bookbag. When he had to leave for dance classes or sports, Bian was home doing her homework or winding down after work, which provided her quality time with Liberty.

Every night, Liberty slept in Bian’s place, and that meant Yangyang had been sleeping on her couch. In the first week, Bian and Yangyang attempted to be strict, trying to get Liberty to sleep in her bed beside the couch on her own. Without fail, though, she’d walk over to the front door to whine and scratch at the door. Bian would have to knock on Chenle’s door and ask Yangyang to sleep with Liberty on the couch. Early in the 2nd week Bian tried to take Yangyang’s spot, but the scratches on her shoulder and arms was a clear sign Liberty only wanted Yangyang.

“Hey!” she greeted as she rushed up to sit beside him. “Getting some fresh air?”

“Management came by,” he said, his eyes fixed on Liberty in his lap. “One of the neighbors at Lot 12 said his cat had a litter of kittens a few months ago. He has pictures of Liberty with her mom at his place.”

“Lot 12 is at the far west end,” she said. Her building was Lot 5, which sat at the north east end of the complex. He gave a dry chuckle, and looked at her.

“Don’t do that. I tried to think about how it’s not logical or that it doesn’t make sense. Liberty belongs to the Silva family over at Lot 12. All of their kittens were documented at their vet’s clinic.”

“So, Liberty is...she’s going back to her owners?”

“I told management the SIlva family can come here at 7:30, so you’d have time to say goodbye to her. They want to see her ASAP.”

Bian had grown attached to Liberty, and she had become good friends with Yangyang due to their time spent together. She knew this didn’t mean she and Yangyang would stop being friends, but she wondered if this meant they'd stop seeing each other every day.

Yangyang placed Liberty in Bian's lap and they spent their last minutes with her in silence, petting her. Feeling Yangyang wrap an arm around her waist, she felt a familiar rush of blood ride up her neck to her cheeks. For the past 3 days, he began showing her physical affections. They were mostly him holding her hand when they walked or sat next to each other, and she liked the attention, but she only allowed herself to enjoy it by reminding herself that they were strictly friends.

“Kitty!”

A girl who could be no older than 8 was rushing over to them, her black pigtails bouncing wildly. A dark haired middle aged man was walking behind her. Yangyang stood up as he and the man raised their hands to greet each other. Holding Liberty in one hand, he offered his free hand to help Bian stand up.

Yangyang and Bian greeted the man and his daughter, who was jumping excitedly and clapping her hands. After introducing themselves, Yangyang and Bian explained how they found Liberty and what they had been doing for the last month with Liberty. The man, Dave, found the story amusing, and thanked them for taking good care of the cat. He liked the name Liberty after Bian confessed that the movie National Treasure was the inspiration for the name.

“What’s her real name?” Yangyang asked, handing Liberty over to Gloria.

“Kitty!” Gloria exclaimed.

“That’s a cute name,” Bian replied, giving the cat one last scratch on the head. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“I did, and you said it was too simple,” Yangyang said. “I said, ‘Kitty, cuz she’s like, a kitten.’”

“I’m sorry,” Bian threw out sarcastically. She smiled as she felt Yangyang squeeze her hand. “Kitty has gotten used to us calling her Liberty. I hope she’ll respond to Kitty.”

“Can I name her Libby?” Gloria asked, staring from her dad to Bian to Yangyang and back.

“She’s yours, of course you can,” Yangyang said, giving her thumbs up. “Libby suits her.”

After exchanging contact information with the Silva family, they said a final goodbye to Libby. He hadn’t let go of her hand, so Bian led Yangyang back up the stairs. She was feeling sad, much sadder than she thought she’d be to say goodbye to a cat. He glanced at her when they reached her door.

“At least you can finally sleep in Chenle’s place now,” she said, letting go of his hand to find her keys. Chenle was returning in a couple days, so that didn’t really mean much. “You won’t have a cat sleeping on your stomach either.”

“It was nice,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “You still want to go to the party?”

She nodded, though she was beginning to feel anxious. The party seemed like such a juvenile thing to do, given the new circumstances. It felt like much more work than she wanted to do, having to change her clothes, take the bus, walk to the frat house, talk to people...she wanted to watch Peggy Sue Got Married, one of Nicolas Cage’s early works. Yangyang had been vocal in his excitement for the party, and she didn’t want to flake out on him.

“I need to shower and change. Knock on my door when you’re ready to leave?”

“I’ll give you at least an hour.”

“Oh, I need an hour to get ready? Weren’t you the one who forced me and Liberty to sit in your smelly dorm room for 3 hours when you wanted to switch up your shoes?”

“My shoes are what give me swag.”

“Your shoes literally hurt me.”

“Are we going to keep talking shit or are you going to shower?”

Bian laughed and rolled her eyes, finally unlocking her door. He hid a laugh behind his hand as she watched him enter Chenle’s place. She immediately took a shower after removing her clothes. Though he’d made her laugh, she was still feeling down. She tried to sort out why her mood had shifted so strongly.

Liberty was a cute cat, and she had been surprisingly fun to take care of, but the sadness and anxiety seemed too much. As she stepped out of her shower, Bian had to admit to herself, at last, the truth. She liked Yangyang.

Working out a schedule to take care of Liberty that first week had been something she and Yangyang did without thought. They saw a hurt kitten and took care of it. That time together quickly turned them into friends. In the following weeks, every day felt like an adventure, given that they were always actively looking for LIberty’s owners.

What really set her nerves off and made her stomach muscles ache as if she’d been doing sit-ups all day was the realization that she wouldn’t be spending every day starting and ending her day with him anymore. She knew it wasn’t because he made a good friend and roommate. They argued for at least 15 minutes every night when it was dinner time. He always wanted to watch a TV show, and she wanted to watch movies.

But she smiled every time she thought about him. She’d spent the last week half hoping, half dreading that he would lean over and kiss her every time they were close together. There were more than a handful of occasions in which she’d gone to sleep, envisioning Yangyang sleeping beside her, instead of on her couch. But she’d been excusing it on the fact that she was just feeling bad for him.

With Liberty gone, there was no excuse. She wanted Yangyang to sleep in her bed, because she wanted him in her arms. She wanted to kiss his cheeks and touch his chest, take his clothes off, finally admit to him that she’d been spending more than just a few days wanting to kiss him, to touch him intimately. Did he feel the same way?

Bian had been in denial about her feelings due to the memory of their first meeting still lingering in her mind. In that moment though, thinking about what Yangyang’s lips would feel like against hers, she was able to burn that bridge and never look back. Would he be able to? Neither of them had really been able to talk about it much, aside from mentioning his Air Jordan 1’s and her fading blue hair.

“Bian?”

The knock on the door made her jump, and she threw her hand up to her chest. She’d been thinking so hard and focusing on her makeup, she hadn’t realized an hour had passed already. Her lipstick had smeared at the bottom left corner of her lip. Grabbing a tissue, she got up and opened the door for Yangyang. She gave a gentle laugh as she saw that he was wearing his cursed Air Jordan 1’s.

“I told you my shoes give me swag,” he said, sitting down on the couch. He threw his left foot up in the air to show it off some more. Instead of returning to her desk to fix her makeup, Bian sat down beside Yangyang.

“I think I like you,” she said. She pressed the tissue to her lips. She needed to work on her “act now, think later” approach to certain situations. He sat up straight as his eyes widened for a couple seconds. He touched her wrists and she let him take them into his hands. He held her hands in her lap. “I mean, if you don’t, that’s fine. If you just want to be friends, we can be friends. But like, I think, I’m pretty sure, like, I think I like you.”

He pulled her hands into his lap, and leaned over to get closer to her.

“I like you, too,” he said, his eyes drifting to her mouth. His lips were close, she could feel the warmth from his breath.

“Don’t say that just because,” she said, moving back slightly, trying to capture his gaze. He smiled at her as his eyes moved up to meet hers. “If you want to be Friends with Benefits I can’t give you that. I like you too much. If you want this to be a one time thing, we can’t be friends anymore. I want us to be clear with each other.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and lifted their hands to kiss her hands. “I thought you wouldn’t want me coming around anymore.”

“I want you to come here whenever you want, so long as we’re exclusive and like, dating.”

Her tongue had felt heavy as the last five words came out of her mouth. She’d had shitty exes before. The rules needed to be clear. She was putting her trust in Yangyang by being this upfront and hoping he would not only agree to this but be true to his word.

“I was going to tell you that I wanted to confess to you that I like you on the bus,” he replied. “That way if you reject me, you would have to be nice to me because we’d be in public.”

“I’m not the mean one,” she said, slowly retrieving her hands from his hold, squaring her shoulders. He tightened his grip, a smile crossing his lips as he leaned in closer to her. “You laughed at me when I told you about the mouse.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly before brushing the tip of his nose against the right side of her jawline. “You’re not mean. I wanted to tell you awhile back, but I didn’t want you to reject me. I like you too much to fuck this up.” He paused and licked his lips. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes.”

She was barely able to say it above a whisper. He released her hands as one hand reached to grab her hip. He pulled her closer to him as his other hand rested on her neck. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Bian savored the way his eyes gazed into hers before drifting to her lips, and then he kissed her. She reciprocated the kiss immediately, both her hands touching his neck.

His lips were warm and tasted musky, like inhaling the air on a rainy day in the forest. She took in a small breath as their lips parted. Right as she opened her eyes, he kissed her, making her furrow her eyebrows as she shut her eyes again. The tension in his lips loosened as she felt the tip of his tongue push against her lips. He traced the shape of her lips with the tip of his tongue before pushing it into her mouth. She pushed back, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his. He placed both hands on her hips.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said breathlessly when he broke their kiss. He kissed her lips quickly before moving his head back. He guffawed as she frowned at him, running her fingers into his hair. “Want to go to the party?”

“No.” She grabbed onto his hair with her right hand, and then stroked his cheek with her other hand. “I like it right here.”

“Really? Couch sex sucks.”

“We’re going to have sex?” She guffawed as his hold loosened. She kissed his neck, licked his Adam’s apple a couple times, and ran a hand down to his chest before planting a soft kiss onto his cheek. His eyes were shut tight, and he groaned. “I’m kidding. Do you want to have sex?”

“After the party?”

“I don’t want our first time to be drunk sex.”

“We won’t drink.”

“I don’t want to be high during our first time either.”

He chuckled with a head shake, seeming to be scoffing at her. Reminding him what they were compromising about, she placed a hand on his hip before kissing his neck a few times.

“We won’t toke. Easy. We can drop by for a couple hours?”

“You really want to go?” she asked, already feeling tired just thinking about having to grab her shoes to put on.

“You don’t?”

“I want to stay in. Saying goodbye to Liberty made me a lot sadder than I thought I’d be.”

“That’s why I want to go out. I need stress relief.”

“Compromise?”

“What do you have in mind?”

She stared at him for a few moments. She was going to make sure they weren’t going to leave her place for the rest of the night.

“So for stress relief, how about you take me to my bed right now? You can fuck me in any position you want.”

Immediately, he stood up with her hands in his. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she kissed him, resting her hands on his shoulders. She carefully walked backwards as they continued to kiss.

Once she felt her body come into contact with the foot of the bed frame, Bian’s hands slid down his body, caressing his chest and the side of his body before finding his belt buckle. He breathed heavily as he stopped kissing her. She planted kisses on his neck. He helped her remove his belt and unbutton his jeans.

Wordlessly he palmed her tits, and as she moaned his hands grazed down to grope her ass. She moaned as she sucked onto the skin of his neck, and gyrated her hips against his when he squeezed her ass cheeks roughly. She immediately moved back up to kiss him, and moaned into his mouth.

She felt his hand slip between her legs to squeeze the inside of her thigh. He stroked his fingers up and down against her thigh, paying no attention to the growing heat in her core. Slowly, he moved both hands up to unbutton her jeans. They stopped kissing to finish taking their clothes off.

As soon as she kicked her underwear away and was completely nude, she walked to the left side of the bed, and sat down on it. She cupped her breasts with her hands and massaged them as she looked at Yangyang. He licked his lips before walking to stand beside her, his eyes never leaving her. Her cunt throbbed with an aching heat as she looked at his toned body, wanting to plant kisses onto every curve of his muscles on his shoulders, chest and abs.

“How do you want to do it?” she asked. She could only meet his eyes for a couple seconds. His eyes were focused on her chest before going back up to meet her gaze making her face grow hot.

He sat down beside her, and caressed her neck before they kissed. She rested her hands against his chest. His skin was soft to the touch, but as she ran her fingers down to his stomach his muscles felt firm and strong. He moaned into her mouth as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. She felt his fingers stroke the inside of her thigh before they moved up to brush against her stomach.

She stopped kissing him, and gave a soft moan. His mouth captured her earlobe and he sucked on it for a second before kissing her shoulder. Her hands shot up to grab his shoulders as his hands pushed for her to open her legs wider.

She looked at him lick his lips when he made gentle circular motions against her stomach with his fingers. With every centimeter lower he applied more pressure. His fingers brushed against her pubes before crawling to the folds of her pussy.

“Yangyang,” she breathed out, feeling the pad of his middle finger touch her clit. It’d been throbbing, wanting attention. She felt a jolt deep inside her stomach, but it disappeared just as harshly as it came. His fingers left her as she tried thrusting against his hand. “Don’t stop.” His eyes were focused on her lips, and his eyes drifted up to meet her gaze. “Please.”

“OK, because you said please.”

He smirked before leaning over to kiss her, his tongue working hard to keep her mouth preoccupied as he kissed her roughly. His fingers glided along her folds before going down to touch her labia as his palm pressed into her vulva. She felt his fingers stroke into her slick heat. His palm applied pressure onto her clit, and she began thrusting her hips gently. She whimpered against his lips. Her mind was spinning as flashes of heat flared inside of her with every motion of his hand on her pussy.

“How do you want it?” she panted, breaking from his kiss. “Yangyang, how-”

His hands touched her hips and he moved to get off the bed, but she placed her hands on his arms, stopping him.

“You have to tell me,” she said. She kissed him. “If you can’t say it I’ll just give you a hand job.”

She pressed her palm flat against his growing erection, and he threw his head back, taking in a sharp inhale. He exhaled loudly, and groaned as she wrapped her hand around his cock. She gave it a couple pumps, and used her other hand to touch his balls. She pressed the pads of her index and middle fingers against the bottom of his ballsack and rubbed it back and forth.

“Doggy style-fuck!” he blurted out before giving a moan.

A thrilling heat hit her chest and cheeks as she saw how she turned him on. He reached up and groped her breasts, keeping her hot for him too, his fingers flicking her nipples. The jolts of pleasure from his hands on her breasts were almost enough to bring her to the edge of her orgasm. She stopped rubbing his ballsack, but continued to stroke his cock as she felt like her stomach was going to twist into knots. He leaned over and kissed her before asking for a condom.

She released his cock, and turned over to grab a condom and a bottle of lube from her nightstand. He took the condom after kissing her again, stroking her cheek after nibbling on her bottom lip. Immediately, she kissed his neck and sucked gently on it for a few seconds, hearing him tear open the packet.

“I like that,” he panted when she massaged the inside of his thigh.

She kissed his neck again. Once he had the condom on securely, she kissed him, nipping his bottom lip before releasing him. She stood up so she could face the bed, and bent forward after grabbing some pillows for cushioning under her stomach. Planting her feet flat on the floor, she arched her back to stick her ass out to him.

She moaned as she felt his fingers rub her folds, spreading the lube over her cunt. As he pressed his front to her back, Yangyang planted kisses onto her shoulders and back. His fingers teased her clit as he rubbed his fingers up and down against it before leaving to play with her entrance. He pushed the tip of his finger into her hot core, but pulled away as she’d push her hips back, wanting more of his touches. She felt his fingers return to press down on her clit.

“Yangyang,” she panted, feeling his fingers leave her body. “Please.”

“‘Please?’” he said softly against her ear, his hands sliding up the back of her thighs to massage her ass cheeks. His left hand continued to palm her ass as she felt him slide the tip of his cock against her slit. She gave a loud inhale of breath and panted out short, sweet moans.

“Fuck me?” she asked in a loud whisper, gyrating her hips, desperate for more friction. “Please, Yangyang, fuck me.”

Her hands grabbed onto the duvet under her as she felt the pressure of his cock enter her. She shut her eyes and opened her mouth, losing her voice as every sensation of his cock sliding into her cunt sent a rapid heat up to her head. He moaned as she felt the weight and heat of his body leave her back. Both of his hands clapped onto her hips, and he groaned as he pushed in deeper.

Right as she thought that he was going to fill her up all the way, she shut her mouth to muffle a moan as the friction of his cock sliding out of her sent a new wave of heat into her body. The sounds of her ass clapping against his thighs mixed in with their shared moans seemed to encourage Yangyang to fuck her faster, and she could only push back against him.

“Fuck-yes!” he groaned as she felt his hand reach under her body, between her legs, to try to rub her folds.

“Right there,” she managed to pant out as she felt the tips of his fingers tease her clit, rubbing up and down in a small and fast motion.

As she was about to reach down to shove his torturous fingers away, his fingers pushed down with more pressure, going in a circular motion. The grip on her hip tightened and he thrust into her in fast, shallow pushes. She could only lay down flat onto the mattress, resting her head onto the mattress with her hands still fisting the duvet, and enjoy the way he was fucking her. A strong heat rode up her back before she felt her pussy squeeze onto his cock, her orgasm washing over her.

“Fuck.”

His curse was barely audible as she felt him slow his thrusting, carefully pulling out an inch before slowly pushing back in over and over. As he continued to rub her clit, the over-stimulation was too much. She began whimpering, wiggling her hips, all of her nerves seeming to be jumping around wildly inside of her.

He groaned as he gave a deep push, his hold on her hips tightening as he came. She panted heavily, unable to move, listening to Yangyang move around after he withdrew from her. With concentrated effort, she tilted her head up slightly to see him tying up the used condom before walking to her bathroom to discard it.

When he returned, he ran a hand down her arm before he helped her move to get into bed. They kissed when they were lying in bed together. He brushed her hair aside as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She rested her head onto his chest, and closed her eyes as she felt his body relax.

--

Bian didn’t know what woke her up, but the sun was just rising when she opened her eyes. The golden rays of the morning sunshine radiated through her windows, lighting up her living room. She rubbed her eyes before sitting up, and felt her drowsiness disappear as she saw Yangyang quietly put his boxers and jeans on. He silently walked toward her front door with his shirt and jacket in his arms, and a heat hit her chest and face that made her see red.

“Yangyang,” she called out when he’d opened the front door. She was hoping that she was misunderstanding the situation.

Yangyang turned around and his face remained blank as he froze. His eyes were unable to meet hers, and she felt a pain inside of her, like her stomach was going sour. Wrapping her bed sheet around her body, she jumped out of bed, and picked up his shoe and threw it in his direction.

“You asshole!” she shouted at him as he ducked away from the shoe.

He continued to avoid her gaze and quickly grabbed his shoes before rushing out of her place, shutting the door behind her. She could only fall onto her bed and took in a deep breath as she felt tears blur her image. Shutting her eyes, she grabbed a pillow and cried into it. Yangyang was the asshole who lied to her, but she still blamed herself for falling for his sweet lies.

--

“Welcome back, Chenle,” Bian said when she saw him. It had been about a week since he’d returned.

She’d just returned from a full day at work, and was relieved to see that it was Chenle who was leaving his condo. He looked to be taking Daegal out for a walk. The tiny white furry dog was standing next to Chenle as he was locking up. He gave Bian a friendly smile as he waved to her.

“Hey. How was Yangyang as a neighbor? Too bad I never got to meet the cat.”

“It was OK,” she lied, hoping her tone sounded casual. “Will you hold on for a second before you leave? I have something for you.”

He looked surprised but nodded politely. She quickly went into her place, and took the large blue box on her coffee table after putting her purse down onto her couch. Handing it to him, she gave him a bright smile.

“Yangyang made me realize that you’re the best neighbor I’ve ever had. Thanks for returning.”

Chenle gave out a loud laugh, and took the lid off of the box.

“Thanks, Bian. You didn’t have to bake me cookies. I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed again before putting the cookies away. They had a short conversation where he told her that he went back to China for an uncle’s wedding. His family had thrown an elaborate wedding, and he had composed the music for the wedding and for the reception. Bian could only guess how opulent the wedding was if it took his family an entire month to help throw it.

Returning to her empty apartment, Bian sat down on her couch, and considered doing her routine of listening to Mariah Carey’s “Breakdown” on repeat and sob for a while. She’d spent every night after her morning with Yangyang sitting on her couch, crying to Mariah Carey, hating Yangyang. And hating herself for falling for him. She didn’t want to be so hurt, because it wasn’t like they were lovers, but the bond of their friendship was ruined.

She’d laid it all out to him with clear rules, and he’d lied through his teeth. The risk of trusting that he cared enough for her to be honest hadn’t paid off, and now she was an emotional wreck. It was a wonder she was able to keep up with her schoolwork. She was tired all the time, but was only able to take short naps.

The night before, she’d woken from a dream with Yangyang in it, and she didn’t want to sleep again. After baking some sugar cookies and decorating them into yellow smiley faces, she had enough time to find an old jewelry box. She’d cleaned it and decorated it before lining it with parchment paper so that she could place the cookies inside.

She did appreciate that Chenle was her neighbor. He’d never spent an entire month being a good friend to her, having a lot of laughs and jokes as they took care of a small cat together. He’d never followed that up with telling her that he liked her too much to fuck up a relationship with her only to do exactly that hours later.

She knew Yangyang wouldn’t be stupid enough to come visit her. He’d been a coward to try to dip out after sleeping with her. In her emotional distress she hadn’t bothered to touch her phone. When she had to pick herself up and get ready for her evening shift at work, Bian saw that Yangyang hadn’t tried to contact her. She’d laid in bed for 6 hours. Even then, she chose to block him entirely, if not for him, for her. She didn’t want to end up drunk calling or texting him at some indeterminate point in the future.

Tired of crying, Bian thought about how angry she felt thinking about Yangyang, and decided she had to treat him like her last ex. She couldn’t let this pain rule her life. He was the one who should feel like shit, not her. Lulu had been the one to tell her to blast Big Sean’s “IDFWU” as her first official, “I’m Over It” move.

“I’m over it,” she said out loud before playing “IDFWU”.

Opening up her Bumble app, Bian decided that she should at least become friendly with someone out there. It wasn’t like she was looking for romance when she got to know Yangyang. At least now, she could knowingly choose her potential dating partner.

--

Bian was touching her hair, pressing her lips together as she checked herself using her phone’s camera. She’d gotten her hair done professionally just 3 days previously. Her hair was back to black, and the back of her neck was no longer blue. She fixed the red lipstick that had bled at the center of her bottom lip, dabbing a tissue against it.

“You look gorgeous,” she heard a familiar voice say.

Looking up, she felt blood rush up to her cheeks. Despite this being their third date, Jinyoung always had the same effect on her when his dark eyes pierced into hers. He bent forward and kissed her cheek before sitting across from her.

They’d talked and flirted on Bumble for a couple weeks before meeting. Jinyoung and Bian were upfront about their relationship. They were friendly, and were sexually attracted to each other.

The first date had been a coffee date, to get a feel of what their relationship could be. The sexual tension was instant. The second date was at the movie theatre where they spent the majority of the movie making out. For their third date, it was another coffee date since she’d just gotten off work. She needed caffeine after a long day stocking diapers and dozens of brands of shampoo.

“Have you ordered your drink?” she asked, putting her phone away.

He nodded. They shared their day’s events with each other while they waited for their cappuccinos to arrive. Bian had to deal with pretending like she didn’t know that she was ringing up her Philosophy TA’s pack of condoms and pregnancy test. Jinyoung’s story was much more light hearted as he spent his day completing his essay on Music Composition in the 21st Century.

“Did you want to watch a movie at my place after this?” she asked him. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow though.”

“What movie do you have in mind?”

“Maybe a mindless Roland Emmerich film? Like, Independence Day?”

“You really like crappy action movies?”

“They’re fun!”

“No judgment,” he said before taking a sip of his drink.

She laughed behind a hand as he set his cup down. He had a thick foam mustache on his upper lip.

“You have foam,” she said, pointing to her lips.

“Here?” He pressed a napkin to the left side of his lips.

“Everywhere.”

He sat still as she reached over and wiped the foam off of him, touching his chin with her left hand. The way his eyes were focused on her made her feel the heat on her cheeks once more. She didn’t want to let go of his chin. Their eye contact broke as someone bumped into Jinyoung’s chair. She released him as he looked over his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he and Yangyang said at the same time.

“Yo,” Yangyang said to him, throwing his hand up to greet Jinyoung. He froze as he and Bian locked eyes. The smile on his face disappeared. He lowered his hand and looked from Bian to Jinyoung. She wasn’t sure if she was even breathing.

Yangyang was once more fully clothed, wearing another pair of his expensive designer shoes with his leather jacket. He looked just as handsome as she remembered him to be. The sight of him pissed her off just as much as the last time they’d been together, too.

“You’re here together?” he asked, his tone soft but his eyes were focused on her.

“Do you know each other?” Jinyoung asked.

“Yeah,” Yangyang replied immediately. “You should go, bro. We gotta talk.”

“Jinyoung, I’m sorry,” Bian said politely as she stood up. She took hold of the sleeve to Yangyang’s jacket. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

She rushed them out of the cafe, and walked them away from the windows of the store. Turning around, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“You like me so much you’re fucking around with Bae Jinyoung?”

“What right do you have to be acting like this?”

“Like what? I can’t be insulted that you’re fucking around with someone like him?”

“‘Someone like him?’”

“Yeah, like, like, a dude who fucks around a lot.”

“At least he’s honest about what he wants.”

“Did I ever deny being a player?”

“I’m not going to do this,” she said, wanting to throw more shoes at him. “I told you I couldn’t be friends with you if you just wanted to hook up. If your feelings are hurt that I’m dating other people, that’s on you. You said you liked me too much to fuck it up. You were the one who got up and tried to leave quietly. Your words and your actions, not mine.”

She dug her nails into her palms as she turned away from Yangyang, refusing to let him have the last word. Returning to Jinyoung, she was able to blink away the tears that had threatened to come out. She wasn’t going to let Yangyang make her cry again. And she sure as shit wasn’t going to let him ruin her date.

“Everything good?”

“Yes,” she said to Jinyoung as she stood beside him. “I’m pretty tired. Did you still want to go to my place?”

Wordlessly, he stood up, and offered his hand to her. As they walked to her apartment, Bian made sure to rest her hands onto his biceps, and complimented his strength. From their flirty texts before they met, she learned early on that Jinyoung was very receptive to compliments about his physical traits.

“How strong are you, really?” she asked him, stroking his arm as they approached her apartment. “Show me.”

He smiled, giving a small guffaw, before picking her up into his arms and carrying up the stairs. She laughed as he set her down next to her front door after she pointed to the right. Once they were inside of her place, she turned on the lamp next to the coat rack. She felt his large hands touch her hips from behind, and he pulled her to him before he kissed the back of her neck.

“I’ve waited all day to kiss you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around the front of her body, pressing his body against hers.

One hand cupped her breast and he kneaded it over her layers of clothing. His other hand reached to the front of her jeans, undoing the buttons and zipper, while he kissed her neck again. She gyrated her hips back into his body, making his hand at her jeans stop to hold onto her body for a few moments.

She panted heavily between a few soft chuckles as she felt his erection grow against her. He loosened his hold on her as she turned around to face him. Immediately, he pressed his body up against her, pushing her back to the wall. The heat of his cock against her stomach made her so wet she felt her heat start to dampen her underwear.

He kissed her and she squeezed his muscular arms before moving to massage his shoulders. His hands were pushing her jeans off her hips, and stopped to grope her ass before pulling them down her thighs.

They broke their kiss as she pulled her jeans and underwear off. He pulled his shirt off, revealing his well toned, muscular body. Every piece of Jinyoung seemed too good to be real. Placing her hands onto his hips she kissed his right nipple before licking it. He took a deep inhale before giving a loud, fast exhale.

“I like your lips,” he panted out before placing a hand on her cheek so she would stand up straight. He kissed her and ran a hand through her hair before reaching down to knead her breast. She reached over to palm the shape of his hardening cock over his dark denim jeans.

“Fuck me,” he panted as she reached under his jeans and briefs to wrap her hand around his cock. She stroked him and planted wet kisses onto his neck. “Give me a moment.”

He retrieved a condom from his pocket before removing the package, and unrolled it onto his cock. Using his hands, he directed her to wrap her arms around his shoulder before putting his hands onto the back of her thighs so that he could pick her up. She hooked her legs around his waist, and they kissed before he pressed her body up against the wall when he wrapped an arm around her waist.

After she rested one hand onto his arm to loosen their embrace, he lifted her shirt up and dipped his head down to kiss her breasts. Eager to gain access, Jinyoung hooked the fingers of his free hand along the underside of the front of her bra. With a little tugging, her breasts fell out from under the underwire of her bra before he pushed her bra to bunch up over her chest with her shirt.

His tongue licked along the side of her left breast. She moaned softly as he wrapped his mouth around her hardening nipple. When his mouth released her breast, he lifted his head up and kissed her neck. They looked down together as he used his free hand to rub his cock against her slit.

She moaned and said, “Right there,” in a soft pant as he pressed it up against her aching clit. He rubbed it harder, kissing her neck, before pushing his cock down lower to enter her. His cock sent the nerves in her clit wild and she could only gyrate her hips in a shallow back and forth motion as an intense shiver went up her back. They kissed as he thrust up into her.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Bian broke from the kiss and gave out a soft moan as she felt him begin a deep and rough rhythm. He held her hips firm against the wall with both his hands. His hips pushed up into her, and she felt the heat intensify between them as the pace and force of his thrusts were heavy. She let go of him to run a hand through his hair as his teeth nipped at the skin of her shoulder.

Lifting his head up with one hand, she kissed him. He roughly pushed his tongue into her mouth. She moaned against his lip as she came. She gently pushed her tongue against his as she recovered from her orgasm. He planted kisses down her chest before his tongue flicked her nipple harshly. His mouth wrapped around her breast and he sucked on her sensitive nipple. Her orgasm had one last gasp of air and her hips shook against his firm hold as she felt a hard crash of pleasure hit her gut. He came as he thrust up into her. He panted heavily as she planted soft kisses along both sides of his neck.

“How are you?” he asked her when he pulled his head back to look at her. She stroked his neck gently.

“Good,” she said, feeling like her body was glowing.

The feel of his softening cock inside of her filled her with a radiating heat. No sound escaped from her as the sensations of his cock leaving her sent sharp waves of heat snapping around her insides. She had to shut her eyes as his cock withdrawing from her sent her nerves on edge.

He gave a dry chuckle as he gently set her down on her feet. They held onto each other as they walked to her bathroom to clean up. When they were both clean and properly dressed, Bian walked Jinyoung to her door.

“Hit me up if you ever want to watch a movie again,” he said, touching her chin with his left hand. “You were amazing.”

“Have a good night,” she said before planting a kiss onto his cheek. “Thank you for a lovely night.”

When she was alone, Bian returned to the bathroom to set up a bubble bath. She felt good after hooking up with Jinyoung. He was a good kisser, and the sex was exceptional, too. Jinyoung texted her when he’d reached home, wishing her a good night. She put on some relaxing music before getting into the bath.

Bian had been looking for someone to have a good time with, and Jinyoung had been upfront that he was looking for a short fling. He had said that he was open to a potential Fuck Buddy setup. In that moment, Bian was fine with leaving things as they were. Jinyoung was good in the bedroom, and she got along with him, but she didn’t get boyfriend vibes from him. It was a good situation to be in, knowing that a guy like Jinyoung was likely available if she was ever in need of some sexual release.

--

Bian was cramming for her finals when there was a knock on her door. She shut her eyes for a few moments before slowly getting up from her desk. Looking through her peephole, she saw a face she hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Gloria, hi,” she greeted the little girl, who had her hair up in a high ponytail. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Libby?” she asked. “Um, this morning she didn’t come eat, and I haven’t seen her.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Yeah. My dad told me not to come bother you, but...well, Libby came here before, you know?”

“OK,” Bian said as she turned around to grab her phone and purse, “let’s take you back to your place, and I’ll call the cat whisperer.”

“Who’s that?”

Shrugging her shoulders in response, she scrolled through her Contact List and had to do some Settings changes. She pressed her lips together as she held her phone up to her ear and slipped on her orange Converse Chuck Taylors. She stood with Gloria at the front of her door as she waited and hoped that Yangyang would pick up her call. It’d been 5 weeks since she’d seen him at the cafe, and though he didn’t take up a lot of mental or emotional space in her daily life, she’d be a liar if she said that she didn’t think about him every other day.

What he did was shitty, for sure, but she couldn’t stop herself from missing him. He’d made her laugh. They were able to trade insults all the while working well enough together that they nursed a cat back to health for a month. She didn’t want to get too sentimental so she always allowed herself moment to remember the anger she felt when she threw his shoe at him. Watching Nicolas Cage movies also didn’t carry as much joy as they used to, and she blamed it partially on him.

“Um, hello?” she heard Yangyang say softly.

“Hi. Um, Gloria said Libby is missing.”

“What? Libby? As in our Liberty?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. There were few people in the world who could make her feel such strong, conflicting feelings as Yangyang did. “So, um, can you do me a favor and uh, help Gloria and me find her?”

“I’ll try to be there in like, I don’t know, 20 minutes.”

“Don’t rush.”

After talking with Gloria’s parents, Bian learned that the last time anyone saw Libby was around 8:00 AM when the nanny had gotten the mail, and Gloria had a quick morning hello with a couple of the neighboring kids. Gloria realized Libby was gone when her food remained untouched a couple hours later. Assuring Gloria that she would return with Libby, Bian sent Gloria home when Yangyang met with her at the playground to the complex.

He was wearing his Air Jordan 1’s, which set off Bian’s temper, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself in control. They walked toward her apartment building as she told him all the information she had collected.

“You have to do it,” she said as they stood at the bottom of the staircase when she said that Libby had been missing for at least 6 hours.

“She’s not missing,” he said, standing up straight, looking at her with suspicion. “You just want me to do this because I was a piece of shit.”

“You’re still a piece of shit. I’m not lying. Call Gloria’s dad. They’re worried.”

She smiled, thinking about Yangyang singing the German nursery rhyme he used to sing to Liberty. It had become his song with Liberty. If he sang it, chances were Liberty would start meowing, just like that first morning together. He groaned, but took a deep breath and began singing in German. Despite herself, Bian began giggling. It was a very serious situation, and she was still mad at him, but the cute nursery rhyme coming out of his mouth made her laugh and smile.

“Liar,” he said, abruptly stopping his singing.

“I’m not! I’m not!” she protested between fits of laughter. She had her hands on her stomach, her body hurting from the giggling. “I swear, she’s missing!”

She threw her hands over her mouth and he seemed like he was about to say something, when they heard a faint mewling nearby. Yangyang turned around and began singing again. The meowing started once more, and Bian followed Yangyang as they walked closer toward the large trash bins at the far east side of the complex.

“No,” she moaned softly, “Libby found a way into the trash?”

“What the fuck?” Without hesitation, Yangyang climbed up to look into the giant yellow painted metal trash bin, and glanced inside. “Libby, baby, what are you doing in the trash?”

He jumped in, and groaned.

“Is she OK?” Bian asked, walking close to the bin.

“Yeah. She probably smelt the tuna in one of these bags. Fuck, bro, it stinks.”

A few moments later, she saw Yangyang climb out of the bin, a filthy looking Libby tucked into his left arm. She helped him climb down, and they walked back to her apartment.

“I should go home,” he said as she unlocked the door.

“No, you smell! Clean up before you go home. I can’t give Libby’s baths either. It was always you.”

Once they entered her place, she led Yangyang to her bathroom, and offered him a couple towels before leaving him to clean up. She sat down on the ground next to the door, and listened to him wash Libby in the bathtub.

“I have my washer and dryer out here,” she said loudly, hoping he heard her over the noise of the water running. “If you want to give me your clothes, I can give them a quick wash. You’ll, um, have to be here for awhile though.”

“I’m fine with that,” he replied. “Thank you, Bian. You don’t have to.”

“You’re the only one who can find Libby. Don’t think I’m doing this because I want to mend things or whatever.”

“I’m sorry, Bian.” She gave a loud snort. “You’re right, this is all on me. If you don’t want to see or speak to me after this, like, yeah, like, I get it.”

“Why did you sleep with me if you didn’t want to date me? I mean, I know why, but like...why did you do it to me?” She felt tears forming and let them fall down her cheeks. “My friendship really meant that little to you?”

The door opened, and Yangyang knelt down next to her. He handed her a tissue, which she accepted wordlessly.

“I fucked up,” he said, sitting beside her in nothing but a towel. He set a bundle of grey towels down in front of him, and she realized Libby was resting at the center of the bundle. After her frightening day in the trash, Libby was knocked out. “I fucked up our friendship. I would do anything to be your friend again.”

She reached over and rested her hand over his. They shared a smile.

"You didn't have to come here today. Despite our bullshit, you showed up. That's definitely friendship material.”

“So we’re friends again?” he asked.

“You jumped into the trash without even thinking twice about it. You got your designer shoes dirty. That’s like, boyfriend material.”

“Boyfriend?” he asked. He gave a half smile, though it faltered as his eyes locked with hers.

“I mean,” she said with a shrug, “will you be my boyfriend if I told you we won’t have sex or kiss for at least a month?”

“No kissing?” he asked, but looked at her, and then glanced at Libby. “That’s more than fair.”

“You won’t cheat on me.”

“You’re the one who went on a date with Bae Jinyoung.”

“Do you want to go there?” she asked looking directly into his eyes. She could ruin their relationship if he was going to push it. It would hurt him a hell of a lot more if she were to reveal what she and Jinyoung did on their date. “What’s your history with him?”

“Nothing, really,” he said, throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“We play some sports against each other. He’s good at football, and I’m good at basketball. That’s it. He’s...he was a bro.”

“OK,” she replied. “Is it like, a frat thing? Because if it is, I really don’t want to know.”

She sat up as he remained close lipped. Her butt felt numb from sitting down on the tiled floor for so long, she stood up. Glancing into the bathroom, she asked Yangyang to roll up his dirty laundry into one of her towels so they could wash them.

Seeing his shoes covered in grease stains and thick brown grime, she threw her hand to her mouth. His Air Jordan 1’s hadn’t just gotten dirty. They were ruined. He shook his head, his face morose, as he picked up the shoes with one of her stained hand towels hanging on a hook.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she followed him to the kitchen.

He threw the shoes into the large red trash bin before turning around to embrace her into a hug. His body was pressed against hers and as she wrapped her arms around his back she felt her body heat up. His skin felt soft, but the muscles on his back were firm as she held him tight. Her mind clouded with relief. He gave a dry chuckle before speaking.

“Fuck the shoes.”

--

Now, with a sequel: 7 Step to Forgiveness

[rason-rodd]

All The Time We Need - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Reader and Jason meet again after two years being apart and reconnect with their long lost love.

Warning : Angst, Fluff, Smut  

Author’s note: A OS definitely inspired by my 2-years long hiatus and that somewhat acknowledges it. It was almost cathartic writing it and allowed me to reconnect with Jason on a writing scale. You can read it as a sequel to “Summer Love and Swimming Pool” or not. Some moments are a bit too cheesy to my taste but I hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. NSFW Part is at the end. You can skip that part if you want to.

You actually realise Time flies when you take time to acknowledge it. And sometimes acknowledging is like getting buried under a mountain of sand and feeling each grain slowly chocking you and reminding you there is no escaping. The sands of Time cannot be stopped, nor can they be shoveled. They run and slip through your fingers like dust in the wind and the tighter you try to grasp them the faster they go. And when they’re gone, there is no catching them back.     That’s why Time is scary. Because no matter what you do, it won’t allow you to go back or to put an end to it. And it will certainly not allow you to forget about it either. Time will pave your life until the day you die with a constant reminder that, unlike it, you’re not eternal. And the saddest thing is it doesn’t care about what you think of it.           And yet, it seemed like Jason Todd had managed to tell Time to go fuck itself. “How long has it been?”

He hadn’t changed a bit. Looking as handsome as ever. Always and eternally sporting the same disheveled short black hair and the same mischievous yet tortured blue eyes, eyes that had put you in more trouble than you could remember. “Two years or so … I don’t know.”             All you could remember was a passionate summertime infatuation that had burnt your body and your heart night and day like a hot and dazzling sun. A fading yet intense memory you secretly cherished and replayed in period of loneliness and that you couldn’t seem to be able to replace on the timeline of your life. “Still so beautiful, I see.” You scoffed and he chuckled. “What?”       “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He scratched his head; arm muscles compressed in a leather jacket à la Jason that made you wonder how he could bear wearing such a light jacket in such freezing weather. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You goggled at his smile, childish, adorable yet naturally so seductive. The same smile that used to make your legs shake and turn to jell-o. “I didn’t know you were back in Gotham.”         “Right back at you. Last time I heard of you, you were in this little town … Hopletown, was it?”   “Appleton.” He corrected. “Looks like Timbo talks about me in my absence.”           “You’re his brother. Of course, he talks about you, just like everyone else in your family.” Judging by his signature small crooked smile on his face he seemed touched by your words, taking even time to ponder over them. Did the family really think of him in his absence?

Shivering, you tightened your wool coat around you, attempting to prevent the cold wind to infiltrate under the cloth and steal your body heat, as you let Jason think about what you had just said. But your reaction didn’t go unnoticed and it managed to pull him out of his train of thoughts. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? We could have something to drink, catch on. I’m sure you got plenty to tell.”         “Not plenty but I could use a hot tea.” You confessed, already imagining the spicy smell of cinnamon and chai in your nostrils and the hot steam caressing your cold face.     “Amazing.” He grinned, genuinely happy and excited, a bit like a little boy at a toy store, and lowered your beanie to properly cover your ice-cold reddened ears. That gesture got you confused for a small second but it was so sweet and caring you eventually smiled. Ah Todd, always the overprotective type I see.

***

“So, what are you doing in Gotham City? I thought you wanted to ‘travel the world Dora The Explorer-style and get the hell out of this cesspool’?” He quoted you and your genuine chuckle made him smile but only briefly as you gained back your seriousness in a matter of seconds.

He could tell you were not the same girl he used to date two summers ago. You had changed, matured. You had become a woman, a woman who seemed to struggle with responsibilities so heavy they could crush her at any second. You looked tired, weary… sad even. The cheeky light in you was gone. And he wanted to know why. Not out of curiosity but to help you.           “Well, I did travel and it was awesome, like a dream come true. But I guess we always wake up from dreams eventually.” You looked down at your tea, looking at your pale reflection in the hot water, melancholia hitting you like a train. “My mother got sick and, well, her savings were not enough to pay for all the medical care so … let’s say I had to swap my backpack for a satchel… I work at Wayne Enterprises now. Bruce hired me, out of pity I suppose.”         “I’m sure it wasn’t out of pity.” You shrugged and Jason grabbed your hand and you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about your mother. I know how it’s like to …”     “Do you still think about us?” You abruptly cut him short, not willing to keep talking about your personal issues or to plunge Jason back in dark memories that you know were very hard for him to handle.     Sure, you could have chosen another question, another topic of conversation but the thing was that those words were niggling at you since the moment you two broke up. “I mean do you happen to think about what happened between us?”

Jason didn’t answer at first, more out of surprise than out of hesitation because there was none. There was just one answer to that question. Of course.             Of course he had thought about you all over those two years. Of course he had thought about what happened, about the moments spent with you – however ephemeral they had been -, about that love he had felt and had never learned to completely erase despite the women who had entered and exited his life. Of course there had been nights in which he had replayed the lustful burning memories of you in his arms, against him, against his naked body. Of course was the answer. But not the answer he gave you. “Come with me.” He forced you to get up and slammed a fifty-dollar bill against the table, not caring about the hot chocolate he hadn’t finished or the blueberry muffin you had barely touched. “But … the change.” You tried to protest.         “Fuck the change. I want to show you something.”

***

           Out of all the places in Gotham, you never thought he would have brought you here. “Why are we here, Jason?”       It was an ancient building, far from the fancy city centre and only a few blocks away from Crime Alley. Dilapidated, covered in colorful yet ugly graffiti, this place looked liked a landmark for drug dealers and junkies and it was an understatement to say that, without Jason’s company, it would have normally made you feel unsafe and uncomfortable.         “I grew up here, before Bruce took me in.” You glanced at Jason who was staring at the place with both disgust and melancholia. “I’ve always hated that place. But it was home. And I guess it made me… I guess that is because of that place that I somehow became the man I am today… I mean, if Jason Todd hadn’t grow up here with a junkie mother and a lousy father he would have never met Brue Wayne and never became …” He stopped, on purpose, you could tell it. “Even if I hate to, I come back here when I want to think of my past, when I’m looking for a reason to keep on fighting. This place is like my temple, a memento of who I am. Damn, you must think I’m crazy.”         “ No, not at all… ” You smiled and put your hand on his arm to reassure him. “Just very Romantic for the bad boy of the Wayne family.” You teased him, knowing perfectly that literature always been Jason’s hobbyhorse and that the whole bad boy thing was a persona, a thick armour he had made to protect himself.     “Blame Alfred. He’s the one who made me ready Wordsworth.” He joked, appreciating the small banter. “Follow me.”           You took the warm hand he offered you and followed him inside the decaying building, minding your step and trying to ignore the dirt and the potential rats.          

Once on the third floor, Jason pushed a rackety wooden door that cracked and squeaked on its hinges and you entered what once was his house. “You grew up here?” You asked only to fill the heavy void caused by this dreadful place. “It was the living room. Used to hide under the table there when my parents were fighting.”

You looked around you, trying to imagine a small Jason living in here. You always knew about his crappy childhood but there is a huge difference between what you had imagined based on the stories Jason had told you in the intimacy of your bedroom and this place.       “You asked me why we’re here.” You turned around and spotted Jason knelt on the dusty wooden floor, a small dusty shoebox that he had just taken from under a floorboard between his hands. “I’ve had this since I was a child. Used to keep the things I loved most in it. Somehow, even after I left this place, I never could take it away from here.” He handed it to you and you slowly opened it, careful not to drop it. You could tell this box was important to Jason.

The content left you silent and you sat on the floor near Jason to study it. “I never really opened it. I don’t like getting stuck in the past. It terrifies me.” You frowned, thinking about all the nightmares, all the anxiety attacks he used to have back in the days you were together. “I never showed it to anyone either but hopefully that’ll answer the question you asked me in that coffee shop.” The question? You had forgotten about it, way too overwhelmed by the sudden solemnity of this moment.  “Never?”           “You’re my first. You should be proud” He tried to joke to lighten the mood and it worked for a couple of seconds. Then, you saw it, among a dog toy, a broken necklace, a batarang and other small tokens. A photo of you two kissing and smiling. A Polaroid you had personally taken on the day when Tim had offered you the camera to illustrate your travel book. “You kept it.” You declared in a whisper.     “I told you. I keep the things I love most in that box.” You stared at Jason, at the cracks of melancholia and the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes he allowed only a few people to see. “Of course I thought of you over the years.”       You were not the cheesy romantic type. Jason was - something rooted to his love for gothic literature and poetry you supposed. But that sincere and pure confession got you all … flushed? bothered? You couldn’t really pinpoint the feeling but you could feel the shaky warmth spreading in your body, now paralyzed by the beauty of that moment. “Did you … think of me?”

If Time could stop, you would have chosen this moment to stop it. Here, now, away from your stressful life and its issues, away from all fears and all pains, with Jason and only him, forgetting about the past you’ll never be able to change or the future that vows to be uncertain and scary, thinking about what truly matters, now. “What do you think?” He chuckled and you saw his hand slightly twitch, as if he was hesitating to do something. And so you took it in yours and shared an umpteenth intimate look only he could read. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.” Meaning, sometimes I wish I would have stayed and be with you.           “Trust me, princess. You made the right choice. Your life would have been miserable with me.” He tried to reassure you, in vain. After all, he could barely convince himself? “More miserable than the one I have right now? I seriously doubt it, Jay.” You frowned and finally got up, leaving Jason’s box on the ground, to watch at the sunset and its red golden rays from the shattered window. “What do you think would have happened had I stayed?” You had your ideas; small little ones of pure love, happiness and bliss that Jason would have managed to lock in that little box of his. “I have a better question, Y/N. What do you think can happen right now?” He was towering you, expecting an answer, waiting as he was gazing at your skin glowing under the soft light of the sun and at your shining eyes. “You tell me, Todd.” This sentence echoed in Jason’s head as a call.

And so his thumb brushed your cold cheek and you looked up at his face, your eyes glued to his features observing them and all the small details you hadn’t noticed before. A little scar thin as a needle on his right brow and a much bigger one, an invisible one that you could see in his eyes, the scar left by all the losses and the pains he had gone through recently. Roy, Bizarro, Artemis. Maybe Jason had changed as well after all. Maybe there was no secret to stop time. But he didn’t let you ponder over this and gently pressed his lips on yours.

He needed that. He had thought about it all day and the truth was, you had too. You welcomed his kiss without hesitation or second thoughts and came to press your small body against his - which seemed so tall and strong in comparison to yours – to instinctively look for safety and protection. “I missed you, princess.” He whispered close to your mouth for a brief second before capturing your full lips with his again. “I missed you too.” You confessed, hands over his hard chest, feeling his heart beat loudly under your palms.     Jason was holding you close now, his arms tightly circled around your form as if he was scared for you to leave, scared to be alone again. His fingers weaving in your hair, his head buried in the nape of your neck, he was pecking your delicate skin, smelling the sweet and heady perfume, glad it was exactly like the one he remembered. “Damn, Y/N. You’re still driving me crazy.”  He murmured as he allowed his hands to slide in your coat and under your jumper to caress your bare back, awakening a cheekiness that you thought was long gone. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You quoted him.

***

           As soon as the door to your apartment slammed shut, your coat dropped to the floor and with hasty hands, Jason threw your beanie across the room, showing an excitement you had almost forgotten. It almost knocked an old crystal vase over but he couldn’t care less.   He had waited long enough. Two years to be precise and he couldn’t wait a second longer. “Bedroom?” He asked between two hungry kisses that were making you almost suffocating against him. “ At the end of the corridor.” You whispered, already breathless, as you managed to finally get rid of his leather jacket.       “Okay.” He suddenly grabbed you to hoist you up with incredible ease, hands under your ass, squeezing it on purpose. A lustful yet cheerful action that made you yelp in surprise.  “I’m already making you scream? Perfect.” He declared with an amused smile as he rushed towards the bedroom, with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips devouring yours.     “Wrong door.” You said as he tried to open the bathroom. “Fuck.” You giggled and very soon your body finally bounced on your bed as it landed on the soft mattress.

You attempted to sit down to admire Jason but before you could do anything the hasty young man was already on top of you, right in between your legs, his lips already kissing your hot belly as his hands were slowly pulling up your jumper above your lace-covered breasts.           That’s when your first moan finally escaped your mouth. “God. I missed that sound.” Jason mumbled against your shivering skin as he cupped and squeezed your round breasts. “Do it again.” He demanded, his tongue licking you up until it reached your cleavage. “Jason.” You moaned his name, feeling a very specific humid warmth forming in between your legs as you fingers were struggling to get rid of his green t-shirt.   He cursed and knelt on the bed to take off your jumper that he carelessly tossed on the nightstand. It knocked the lamp and the radio alarm clock to the ground with a loud clinking noise. “Can you stop breaking my stuff?” You joked and he apologized with another amused bright smile. “I’m sorry, princess”             “Are you? Show me how much.” You declared with an audacious confidence you hadn’t seen in a while. “Yes, ma’am.” Jason winked and immediately unbuttoned your jeans to pull them down along with your panties, revealing your wet and rosy womanhood begging for his attention. He sighed and took a deep breath when he saw it, glad to rediscover that little part of you. Slowly, his calloused fingers went to caress it, making you draw a sharp breath as your fingers tightened around the covers. You didn’t want him to tease you too long and you somewhat you know he wouldn’t. Not today. He was too excited and needy for that.     And so were you in a way judging by the certain frustration that made you mewl when Jason’s expert finger slowly entered you while his thumb came to tickle your swollen clit. You wanted him now but you had to admit you had missed his fingers down there, the same way you had missed everything about him. Which reminded you there was something you had to do. “Let’s even the odds, shall we? I want to see how you handle such a sweet torture.”   “Sweet torture?” He repeated with a cute chuckle as you unbuckled his leather belt. “How am I torturing you, Y/N?” You unzipped his black trousers and immediately plunged you hand in his underwear to gently grab his already hard cock, making Jason curse even more crudely than before.           You chuckled and free his shaft from his boxers to jerk him off. He was as thick and long as you remembered. You bit your lower lip, impatient to feel him inside you. “Like what you see?”             “Shut up.” You knelt on the mattress and immediately took his tip between your lips to suck it like a lollipop, enjoying the taste of his bitter pre-cum on your tongue and the sound of Jason’s sharp breath in your ears. “Damn it, princess.” He managed to say with half lidded eyes.   You licked his penis with a grin before finally welcoming it in your mouth with a lustful moan. How much you had missed it. “You know. I think I get what you mean by sweet torture now.” Jason confessed as he weaved his fingers in your soft hair, torn apart by two ideas: one, let you continue your amazing blow job. Two, fuck you like he never did before. But you did not listen and started bobbing your head the way you knew he loved, taking his dick as deep as you could without gagging around him. “Fucking hell, Y/N” Jason groaned as he grabbed your head between his hands to accompany your pace. “You’re fucking amazing.” Then, his hand gently slapped your ass and he bent over to kiss it with a loving smile that was swallowed by another growl of his as his abs violently tensed with pleasure. “Alright, enough.” He pushed you flat on your back and placed himself between your legs again. He kissed your folds and licked your slit to wet it even more than it already was to finally lingered on your clit that he sucked eagerly, forcing a guttural crying moan out of your tightly sealed lips. Damn, that tongue! “I thought you said enough.” You complained, your voice as low as a whisper.

Jason chuckled and smiled brightly before he eventually knelt in between your spread thighs. “God, how gorgeous you are.” He declared as he tapped his hard cock against your reddened lips, a cheeky gesture whose sole purpose was to make you beg. You knew it. “You want this?”       “Fuck, Jay.” You grumbled, moving your hips vigorously against his shaft, looking for a way to finally welcome it inside you. But Jason ignored your whim and bent over your body. “You want me?” His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath caressing your lips. “Yes.” You murmured. “I want you, Ja…” He did not let you finish your sentence and caught your lips with a burning eagerness, his hand around his cock guiding it inside you, making you moan in his mouth. “Fuck.” Jason growled between his gritted teeth as he felt himself slowly sinking inside of you. “I almost forgot you felt so tight.” “ I almost forgot you were so big.” You cleared your voice, an inexplicable mechanism to relax and allow his cock to fully enter and stretch you. “I know. Sorry.” He winced, adjusting his position on top of you to admire how beautiful you were around his penis and how perfect you pussy was for him. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ll last long, princess.” Jason admitted with a shiver and you cried out when he suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one long exquisite move. “That’s alright. We’ll do it again.”

Those last words made Jason grin in a way he had never done before as he was genuinely happy that you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a casual lay to remember the old good days.       So he immediately took a nice pace that quickened after each new thrust and you let your hands caress his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply handsome. Then you nudged his rear with your ankles, pressing his hips closer to yours to take him deeper inside of you, and started moaning his name again, a strong wave of pleasure forming in your core, ready to drown you. “Jay!” His mouth met your neck and sucked on the thin skin with ardour. “Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” That was too much to handle. “Yeah” You cried out, tears of bliss watering your eyes.       “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice. You dug your nails in his back and screamed loudly as your walls clenched around tightly his thick cock. “That’s it, princess.” He said as you kept calling his name on and on, sending him closer to a most awaited orgasm that he eventually reached and let explode in you under the shape of a loud growled “fuck” and beads of white seed right inside of you. “Y/N” Jason groaned between his gritted teeth as he thrust hard and deep in you for the last time, his sweaty forehead against yours. “Jay!” You shouted again while clawing at his back painfully enough to make him wince and hiss.     Then he stopped moving, exhausted and breathless just like you, and watched you sink in the mattress trying to catch your breath. He caressed your hair as you both slowly came down from cloud nine. A kiss on your nose and he whispered. “You’re okay?” and in spite of the silliness of the question you nodded. “Never been better.”

Your lips found each other again and Jason let himself lie down on you, placing his head on your breasts, listening to your hearts pounding and to your loud ragged breaths. “I missed you.” He whispered and he held you body against his.     “I missed you too.” You repeated as you planted a kiss in his wet dark hair. “Did you have to keep your jeans on?” The question escaped with a laugh and Jason chuckled. “You know me. Didn’t want to waste any time.” He managed to gather the little energy he had left to sit down and finally remove his trousers as he thought he would feel more comfortable without them. “Oops. I think I broke your clock.” He grimaced as he noticed you the broken device on the floor and the flickering numbers flashing up endlessly on the screen. “I don’t care.” You said as you pulled Jason back against you. “We’ve got all the time we need.”

[impalas-r-important]

Love of my Life - (10) Taken

Summary: Y/N and the Winchesters have been hunting non-stop amid the beginnings of the apocalypse. Y/N is forced to bring out her dark side

Warnings: Show level violence.

A/N: I've been having so much fun with this series and I love hearing all your feedback. Feel free to leave your thoughts on the series and let me know if you'd like a tag. Thank you all!

Series Masterlist

After a decent amount of time spent resting, Sam had grown stir crazy and found a case not too far from Sioux Falls in a small town called Madison.

Some real estate buff and his family were the next unsuspecting targets of two hungry ghouls, but you and the Winchesters had taken the monsters taken care of before anyone was killed. It was fairly straightforward and simple as far as cases go, aside from one minor slash in your leg. It was late by the time you were finished disposing of the bodies, and you opted for a crappy motel rather than driving back to Bobby’s place. Dean was stitching you up while Sam went to go get food for everyone.

“Do you ever think about getting out of the life?” Dean asked out of the blue. Maybe he was just trying to get your attention off of the needle going in and out of your leg.

“I never used to, but lately it’s been a different story.” You took a sip of Dean’s cheap beer that was sitting next to you and made a disgusted face before putting it back down.

“What changed?” Dean glanced at you quickly, trying to get a read on your emotions, then continued his stitching.

You had a hard time opening up to people, but you wanted to tell Dean how you felt about him. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you debated whether or not to be honest about your feelings. “Well,” you began, “I always thought that hunting was my only option. I was a loner and I figured that if I was going to die, I would die fighting for the good cause or whatever.” You looked down at Dean, so carefully taking care of you. His eyebrows were furrowed as he intently waited for you to continue. You loved how interested he was in everything you said, no matter how silly or mundane. “But then I met this guy who makes me feel like my life is actually one worth living; like maybe the future doesn’t hold darkness and death after all.” Dean tried to hide his smile as he finished up his last few sutures. “I’ve never felt like I was worth much, but he makes me feel like I’m more than just a girl who can throw knives and punches… and I think that I’m falling for him pretty fast.” Dean placed a bandage over your calf and set his needle down. “Maybe you know him? His name is Sam Winchester.” Dean shot you a confused look, making you lose your composure and bite your lip, repressing a cheeky smile. “It’s just too easy to tease you.”

Dean let out a chuckle and stood up, wiping his hands off on a towel. His tongue darted in and out of his lips, leading into a perfect smile as he dove on top of you and crashed his lips onto yours, knocking you backwards on the bed. You slid you hand behind his neck and deepened the kiss.

The door handle began to wiggle, signaling Sam coming back with the food. “That kid has the worst timing. I swear!” Dean grumbled and pushed himself off the bed, marching over to the door and holding it open with an unmistakable annoyance in his eyes as Sam walked in, juggling the food in his arms. Sam, clearly clueless about what he had interrupted, returned Dean’s annoyed gaze.

“What’s your problem?” He shoved a bag of food into Dean’s arms.

Sam had fallen asleep during a re-run of Jeopardy when Dean touched your hand, silently signaling for you to follow him outside to the small balcony. You happily obliged. Once the door was shut, Dean pulled you in close, kissing you with just as much passion as he had before you were interrupted.

“You know what I want?” Dean asked.

“Some nice scotch and an autographed Zeppelin album?”

The lines by his eyes crinkled as he smiled and shook his head. “No, well, yes, but no. I asked you earlier if you ever wanted to get out of hunting.”

You nodded in remembrance.

“I want out, too. I want a boring life, and a farmhouse, with kids and a dog and a fence. The whole thing. I want to have summer barbeques with Sam and his family, and bonfires where we roast s’mores. I want it with you.”

“I’ve never had a s’more.” You admitted, smiling ear to ear at Dean’s confession.

“Me either.” Dean shrugged; his smile just as wide as yours.

That life sounded perfect. “What happened to Dean Winchester the womanizer that everyone warned me about?”

“He’s whipped.” You could see your future in those deep green eyes as he held you close.

“There has to be a porch swing.” You added. “I’ve always wanted a big comfy porch swing.”

“You got it.” Dean slipped his arms around your waist from behind and leaned down to rest his head on top of yours, making the height difference between you two almost comical. Looking out at the night sky, you thought about living a peaceful life in a small town like this one, sitting next to Dean on the front porch in the summer evenings while your kids played in the front yard. These were never things you would have thought of before meeting this man.

“You wanna go make out in your car?” You not so subtly hinted. Before you knew it, Dean was picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you back into the room and towards the door. You did your best to mute your giggles and squeals so you wouldn’t wake up Sam.

It had been weeks full of hunting, with the last case being a weird one. You'd found a town that had a working wishing well, powered by a coin that used the power of the goddess Tiamat. There was a life-sized and talking teddy bear, someone won the lottery, a kid had super strength, and the wormy guy had a hot girlfriend. It was pretty far up on the list of odd things you'd encountered.

The post-case morning routine was in full swing with the sunlight streaming through the window, prying your eyes open to face a new day. Dean was lying next to you on his stomach with drool slowly dribbling from the corner of his gaped open mouth. You loved this soft side of the ever-stone-cold hunter. Steam was trickling from under the bathroom door, signaling that Sam was almost done getting ready, so you slid out from under the covers and changed before he reentered the room.

"Morning." Sam greeted, toweling off his wet hair. "You wanna go grab breakfast, or should I?"

"You can go but I'll walk out with you and try to convince the clerk to give us a late checkout. I don't think we're making it out of here on time." You nodded your head towards Dean.

"There's a shocker." Sam grabbed the car keys from Dean's nightstand and put his arm around your shoulders, leading you out the door.

Sam took off and you managed to flirt your way into two extra hours before checkout. You exited the lobby and made your way to the outdoor staircase that led to your room. You lifted your foot to take the first step, then everything went black.

Dean’s POV

I spit out the toothpaste from my mouth when Sam came back in the room with a bag of crappy fast-food breakfast. My favorite.

"Where's Y/N?" I asked as I rifled through the brown bag, pulling out a hash brown. Sam shot me a confused look.

"She's not here?" I shook my head; a pit of concern began to grow in my stomach. "She walked out with me to ask for a late checkout. She was in the lobby when I left."

"I'll go check there. You look around for her."

"Dean, I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she's just stretching her legs." Sam tried his best to relieve my obvious state of stress.

"The clerk was useless. All he said was that she was in there for two seconds and then left." I looked to Sam, hoping he had found a sign of her.

"I got nothing." Sam held his hands up. "Did you call her?"

I pulled out my phone, dialing her number from memory then hitting the call button. Sam sharply turned his head towards the stairs and took off in a jog. He leaned over to look underneath the steps and pulled out Y/N's ringing phone. We exchanged knowing looks and I began to feel queasy.

I slammed the door to our room and began to shove my things into a duffel bag. "Someone took her." The nausea I was feeling was not-so-slowly turning to rage.

"We don't know that. Don't freak out just yet."

Like clockwork, my phone went off signaling an incoming text. "It's a link from an unknown number." Sam frowned and I quickly clicked on it. A web page opened up with a live video feed showing Y/N, unconscious and tied to a chair with dried blood painted down her face from her hairline.

"Son of a bitch!” I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand next to me and threw it across the room. "Someone’s gonna die!”

Your POV

You were sure you’d been hit by a train. Your head was pounding, and it hurt to even open your eyes. As your vision unblurred, you became more aware of your situation. First, you saw your feet tied to the legs of a wooden chair, then realized that your arms were bound behind the back of it. You heard arguing voices in the background and did your best to act like you were still unconscious as you assessed your surroundings and the sticky situation you had found yourself in. You were in a damp abandoned warehouse with old pallets stacked in high piles around you and a webcam sitting in the distance pointed in your direction. Your pocketknife had been taken from you and was sitting on a table across the room next to the two arguing captors. You didn’t recognize the two large men who had abducted you, but it was easy to make enemies in your line of work. There was almost a constant target on your back. Keeping your eyes closed and head hung low, you quickly thought about how you would get yourself out of this mess.

You began to stir, letting your kidnappers know you were awake. They finished their conversation when they heard you.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the party.” The bigger one greeted you.

“I’ve never been much of a party animal. Why don’t you just let me go and find someone more fun?” You snarked.

“Oh, we’re going to have plenty of fun. Don’t you worry.” As he turned his back to you, he pulled a gun from its holster on his belt and waved it in the air as he spoke, clearly trying to scare you. “See, I’ve had eyes on Dean Winchester for years. Just waiting for him to find a pretty little girlfriend to settle down with.”

You glared at him, remaining silent. You could feel the rope that was tied around your hands loosen as you discreetly wiggled your hands around. Lucky for you, your thumbs were double jointed enough that you could pop them in out of place. It hurt like hell but proved convenient when you found yourself being held hostage, which was far more than the average person ever should be. You continued listening to the monologue as you worked your hands free. You had no idea what you’d do next, but you’d figure it out. Right?

“Years ago, he took something from me – my wife. And now, I’m going to make him feel that same pain. Smile at the camera!” He pointed to the webcam sitting a few feet in front of you as he walked over and spoke into it. “Hope you’re watching, Deano! She’s gonna die a bloody, slow death.”

Sam and Dean's POV

The boys were in the car, speeding around town, desperately searching for where you were being held. Sam was looking up old buildings and giving Dean directions as he pushed the Impala to its limits. Dean’s phone was propped up on the dashboard with the live feed still streaming.

“Hope you’re watching, Deano! She’s gonna die a bloody, slow death.”

“Son of a bitch! I swear if you hurt her!” Dean screamed at the screen.

“Who even is that Dean?” Sam asked, looking for any kind of clues that would give away a location.

“I don’t know! I don’t recognize him at all but apparently I made quite the impression on him!”

Your POV

The big guy finished his address to Dean and turned to face you, with teeth and claws bared. Okay, well at least you knew he was a werewolf. Only problem was you didn’t have any silver bullets. You freed your hands completely but held them behind your back as you looked around, planning your next step and replaying it in your head a few times to go over the possible outcomes. You had to move fast because the wolf was walking straight for you.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

Keeping the rope your hands were bound with looped into the back of your belt, you tucked your head in and somersaulted forward, whipping your legs up and over your head hard to smash the wooden chair against the ground, freeing your feet from their binds. One of the broken chair legs had come to a sharp point and you immediately threw it at the onrushing werewolf, hitting him in the thigh. It slowed him down enough that you could duck behind one of the large pallets, narrowly avoiding a bullet being shot at you from the second, smaller wolf. The breaker panel was close by and you ran to it, pulling the main power lever down which turned off all the lights except a dim red emergency light. Game on.

There was an upper level which was essentially a deck around the walls of the square building. You snuck your way to the edge of the room, climbed on a pile of crates, then jumped up and grabbed the railing, pulling yourself to the upper level to get a better idea of the layout of the room below. You stumbled across a pile of rebar, taking the sharpest one to use as protection.

“What are you going to do? Call your boyfriend? Come out and play!” One of the men shouted. “I’m not scared of Dean Winchester or his gumpy brother!”

“Oh, you should be! But lucky for you, they’re not here right now.” You laughed. “See, this isn’t my first rodeo,” you began as you stalked the two wolves from up above, “I’ve been held hostage more times than I can count, and you all make the same stupid mistake. You assume that I’m just some damsel in distress, waiting for a big hero to come save me. But I got news for you, buddy. I’m the one you should be scared of.” You trailed the smaller of the two and made your move as he crouched down behind a large crate. Lowering yourself down from the upper deck, you set the rebar down and silently pulled the rope from the back of your belt, wrapping it around his neck and pulling so hard that he couldn’t make a sound. You released him once you were sure he was passed out, then hog tied him and left him for later, moving onto your next target.

“Then stop hiding and let’s do this!” The anger in your next victim’s voice was intertwined with fear. You had him just where you wanted him, physically and mentally, and took your post where you had a perfect visual of the room.

“See your hand shaking?” You yelled and he glanced down at the trembling gun in his hands. “Cortisol. It floods the body when you’re stressed. Makes your muscles tighter, reactions quicker. But put those two things together, and it makes you sloppy. Unless you learn to love it. Then it becomes a drug that you thrive on. That’s when you become deadly.” As unhealthy as it was, you soaked up the feeling of being the apex predator. You simultaneously hated and loved this side of yourself.

You’d spent years doing combat in the dark, learning to use every sense to take in your surroundings and focus on your target, making you the ultimate threat. You threw a bag full of old newspapers across the room, and he fired a desperate shot at the clatter, moving slowly towards the commotion. Following close, but soundlessly behind him, you held your weapon at the ready. He slowed to look around the corner, only to find the newspapers you had thrown strewn across the floor.

“Boo.” Your voice was eerily calm. He whipped around and you timed your swing perfectly and rammed the sharp rebar through his throat. He fell to his knees, gasping for air and you took the gun from his hand, firing a quick shot between his eyes. The shocked look was still plastered on his face as he fell to the ground, and you let out a huff of relief before moving back to the first wolf you had tied up, making sure he met the same fate as his friend. You didn’t have silver bullets, but this worked out okay.

You tucked the gun into your pants as you walked over to the webcam. “Hey Sam and Dean, I really hope you’re watching this. I’m at some old abandoned supply warehouse. I can hear a train in the background if that helps you find me at all.”

Sam and Dean's POV

“Holy crap, Dean, she broke free.” Sam leaned in and intently watched as you expertly broke the chair and turned off the lights. Dean did his best to watch as he drove.

“What’s happening?!” Dean demanded an update.

Sam shook his head. “I can’t see super well, the lights got turned off.” Sam pulled the screen closer to his face and squinted. “She’s got a piece of rebar I think…”

Dean nodded in approval of your choice of weapon. Sam gave the occasional update when he could make out what was happening.

“She strangled one of them and hog tied him.” Sam raised his eyebrows.

Both boys listened intently as you spoke with clarity, messing with the last wolf’s head as you stalked behind him then stabbed him in the throat.

“Hey Sam and Dean, I really hope you’re watching this. I’m at some old abandoned supply warehouse. I can hear a train in the background if that helps you find me at all.” The brothers heard your message and Sam quickly found your location. Dean turned the car around and sped off towards you.

The boys sat in silence, trying to process what just happened. Dean’s jaw had been clenched since the moment he realized you had been taken and wouldn’t relax until he was holding you safe in his arms. He felt guilty that you had been taken because of him, but at the same time, he felt so proud that you had taken control of the situation with such ease that it was almost scary. No, it was definitely scary. This wasn’t a side of you that he had seen before. He knew he should be concerned, but he loved it.

Sam spoke first. “So… Y/N is terrifying.”

Dean scoffed in agreement. “That’s an understatement.”

Your POV

You had dragged the bodies of the two wolves behind the warehouse where a construction site was filling in a large hole with concrete. You tossed them in, turned on the mixer, and covered them up enough that they would never be found. It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way back to the front of the warehouse that the familiar sound of the Impala speeding closer rang in your ears. Dean drifted around the corner and drove straight to you. He was out of the car before it could even roll to a stop, and you met him halfway as he pulled you into a massive hug.

“Y/N, I’m…” Dean began before you could cut him off.

“Stop. If the next words out of your mouth are anything to do with apologizing or blaming yourself then I don’t want to hear them.” You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“This was my fault.”

“Dean, this is not the first time I’ve been kidnapped by a monster out for revenge, and it won’t be the last. You didn’t send that wolf after me so absolutely none of the blame is on you. Not to mention, I’m a damn good hunter and I know how to take care of myself. Aside from this,” you touched your fingers to the wound on your head where you had been knocked out this morning, “I don’t even have a scratch on me.”

Dean sighed and squeezed you tighter. You’d never had someone there to comfort you after being kidnapped and it felt nice to know that you’d be missed if something happened to you.

“Y/N I’m in love with you.” Dean’s words took you by surprise. “Have been since the day that we met, and I should have told you before now.” You began to respond, but he held up his hand, stopping you. “I gotta say this.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I love that you are so kind and genuine with every person you meet, even if it’s some stranger on the street. I love that you can eat enough chocolate to kill a horse, and I love that aren’t ashamed of that. I love your taste in music. I love that you are the most badass person I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure you’re some kind of international hitman or something after what I saw today. But more than anything, I love that you make my life one worth living.”

“Are you just saying all this because you’re scared of me now?” You joked. Dean smiled softly as he shook his head. “I love you too, Dean Winchester. I have from the start.”

“Let’s get you back to the motel and make sure you’re okay.” Dean examined the gash just above your hairline where you’d been struck with a tire-iron this morning. “I’m glad you’re safe. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He kissed you hard, not caring that you were covered in blood splatter.

Sam gently slapped you on the back, clearly proud of you. “Y/N, that was freakin’ amazing. I felt like I was watching an action movie or something. That whole spiel about cortisol was so kick ass!” Sam and Dean both put their arms protectively around your shoulders and led you back to the car. “I’ve never seen anyone take control like that. They were terrified of you. I was terrified of you!” Sam continued to rave as you and Dean exchanged grateful smiles that the three of you had a happy reunion.

Chapter 11

Tags:

@panicking-outside-the-disco

@vicmc624

@akshi8278

[scammydoesstuff]

So about that 'Blue Bloods' episode…

I recently saw something come across my dash regarding Alex Brightman’s guest appearance on the season 11 episode of 'Blue Bloods' (The Common Good) and it reignited the vehement response I had to the episode as a whole. And, since I have this blog now, I figured…fuck it. I need to rant about it.

So that's what this is.

Take what I say with a grain of salt, of course. This show is so clearly not for me and I acknowledge that, but I went to school for and got my degree in creative writing and so much of this episode pissed me off from a narrative perspective and I just really need to talk about it. Putting it under a Read More, though, so you can ignore me if you’d like while I rage to no one in particular. Apologies in advance if you choose to read on. I'm super long-winded. Luckily I don't have pictures and this is more of just a lot of text, so…it could be longer?

So, to begin, I’ll freely admit that I’d never seen an episode of 'Blue Bloods' before this and I’ve not watched it since. I mean, if the rest of the episodes are as badly written as this one, I have no interest to either, but I digress.

Overall my main problem with the episode was how desperately it avoided ‘showing’ over ‘telling’ and, as a visual medium, that’s kind’ve a big deal. We were told pretty much every detail that was presented to us. These people love to hear themselves talk, but do little to actually show things as they happen and I believe a part of that has to do with the focus of the show itself, which is definitely unique to this brand of television. By that, I just mean that it’s not the format I might’ve expected from a show like this. Most cop shows give a lot of focus to the cases, and the intrigue you get with the characters is how they apply their own skills and knowledge to solve them, with the hi-jinks they get into along the way being more of a bonus.

This is not that kind of show.

No, 'Blue Bloods' as a show is way more interested in the cops and their familial ties than it is about the actual job that they’re doing, as shown prominently with the political plot of this episode which was also very focused on the relationship between Tom Selleck’s character and his daughter and the wholly unrelated dinner scene where they talk about lent for 2 and a half minutes and acknowledge nothing else that happened in the episode. This show doesn’t care about the job of being a cop so much as it cares about the cops themselves.

Which would be fine if I gave a shit about cops, but I don’t.

You could argue that the mentor plot is the exception to that, but that entire situation had no real consequences for the cop in question, Jamie, abusing his power. It was entirely focused on how the situation affected him and how it was fine that he’d nudged this kid to get information which ultimately led to the arrest of Dion's brother, and Dion quitting the program. Hell, if Jamie had, in his final scene with Dion, owned up to his abuse of power and left the program — to then urge Dion to rejoin so that he can have that positive outlet in his life without him there — I would’ve been way more okay with it, but Jamie faces no consequences past ‘I don’t wanna see you anymore’, which I was never convinced he actually cared about in the slightest. There's nothing cathartic about it, it's just shitty and left me feeling frustrated at the lack of consequences for the cop.

But hey, you prolly don’t wanna read me going on and on about those parts. You prolly wanna know why I hate it despite Alex’s plot — which I fully expected to love because he’s perfect and gorgeous even when he’s playing a bad guy and he was just so adorable in his lil suit and they let him keep the scruff this time, and he was all handsome an— I need to stop. That could go on forever.

Anyway, to put it simply; it was bad, but I'll definitely explain why.

Now, I don’t think any of the guests in this episode necessarily did a bad job. They still acted well enough for what they were given. I just think they had a shit script that wasn’t interested in that story line. I mentioned at the top of this that this show cared more about telling than showing and that’s a huge problem when you want me to buy a character being the culprit in your murder plot. I need evidence, not anecdotes. Cuz, yeah, by the end of the episode, I didn’t buy for even a second that Ralph did it. And it’s not because he was played by Alex who is just charisma incarnate. I can believe him playing a bad guy. I also watched his 'Law & Order SVU' episode where he scared the shit outta me. He can play a creepy and violent character very well, he just wasn’t convincing to me as a bad guy in this show.

And here’s why!

First of all, he confessed at knife point. That confession would be thrown away IRL. It’s the same problem with using torture to get information. If a person’s life is threatened or they're being harmed in some way, they’ll usually say whatever it takes to get you to stop threatening them/causing them pain. Same deal here. You can’t convince me with a confession like that.

But they didn't seem to be interested in convincing anyone as far as I could tell. They just expected you to believe it because, ‘no, didn’t you hear? He said he did it, so he did it.’ They had so many opportunities to portray this character as the shitbag that we’re told he is. Hell, great way to really implicate him? Give him a female assistant that Donnie Wahlberg and his partner overhear / walk in on him berating for something small like getting him the wrong coffee or something. Then have them talk to that assistant later on and her mention some weird behavior from him on the night of Andrea’s death. It's cliché, but it's more than what we got.

Or you could have him talk to Meghan in a super condescending voice when he approaches her after her interview later on. Or, hell, have him refer to the murder victim in a condescending way even as he talks about her death. But no. The most we get out of him is that he's maybe a little snarky and smug when talking to the cops, but that’s not enough to convince me he’s a bad dude. Frankly, his producer buddy came off as more of an asshole, if I'm being honest. Just cuz (we’re told) his character did shitty things to her in the past doesn’t mean he’s still shitty. Show me he’s still shitty. I wanna see it and I know Alex is capable of a performance like that.

Second, it’s also just…obvious to make him the culprit if we're to believe everything we're told about him. He and Andrea are described as having had beef a little while before the murder with him being abusive mentally and physically. He’s known in the community to be a misogynist and an abusive person overall. He’s the obvious suspect, but if there’s anything that Scooby-Doo taught me, it’s that it’s never the most obvious person. Like, once in a blue moon, sure — but it’s rare.

So yeah, I don’t believe that Ralph did it. You wanna know who I do think did it?

Meghan.

Alright, so bear with me. This'll prolly sound a little conspiratorial, but hear me out:

She had the motive. She confirms in the beginning of the episode that she’s also a female gamer like the victim, but that she was ‘no Andrea’. Andrea was her competition. They were (supposedly) friends and stuck together as female gamers, but Andrea was still competition. With her out of the way, Meghan’s able to rise in the ranks, if even a little bit.

She had a scapegoat in Ralph — again, the obvious suspect given his tumultuous relationship with Andrea sometime prior — and an obvious grudge against men in their community in general. And, don’t get me wrong, men in gaming can and often are hella toxic — I’m not, in any way, denying that — but she got way more emotional when talking about the men in their community than when she was talking about her supposed friend lying dead in the adjoining room.

Speaking of the adjoining room, how did she not hear the murder happening? It couldn’t have been when she was down in the bar, cuz we see Ralph there too in the crappy CCTV footage that was supposed to show him being an asshole, I think (hard to really see). Was she just fucking around somewhere else when it happened? She doesn’t mention as much that I recall (correct me if I'm wrong on that, of course). And Andrea was strangled to death. I would assume that there would’ve been a struggle with that. Are you seriously telling me she wouldn’t hear that in her adjoining hotel room? Those walls aren’t that thick. I find that kinda hard to believe. And that she wouldn’t have found her till the next morning after that, also strikes me as a little odd.

Going off on some previous points, she shows very little grief over her friend’s death. Not just in the intro scene, either, but later on as well. (Side bar: that intro scene itself was very misleading. Don’t lead with a murder plot if it only takes up less than 10 minutes of the overall runtime, kay?) The show did a pretty bad job at indicating the passage of time, but it’s implied that the convention is still happening when Meghan gets the confession out of Ralph, so it would’ve had to have been the same weekend, or possibly the same week (though most conventions I’m aware of don’t last that long — it’s usually a weekend thing, at most Thursday-Sunday — but it could be similar to AGDQ, which seems to last about a week). So, if this is only a day or so later, why would someone who is supposedly grieving over their dead friend do interviews like nothing is wrong? Wouldn't you, like, reschedule or just politely decline and say you need time to process the shock? Like, when we cut to ol’ Donnie Wahlberg calling her after her interview, she doesn’t look upset — as I imagine she might if they’d likely asked her questions about Andrea / her feelings about the murder — and she seems cool as a cucumber when she asks Ralph to go somewhere private. In fact, the look on her face indicates pretty clearly that she’s planning to do something. Specifically, not that she's scared, that she's angry.

Finally, she’s the one who’s attacking Ralph when Donnie Wahlberg and company arrive on the scene. She doesn’t seem to have any marks on her indicating that he made any move to harm her (again, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember seeing her with any marks / cuts), but he’s got a clear, bleeding cut on his face. She attacked him first and was going in for the kill.

Or…was she? Cuz right before Donnie Wahlberg pulls her into that bear hug to stop her from the attack, she doesn’t do a great job of actually trying to kill Ralph. She was close enough that a quick dart at him would’ve probably been enough to at least injure him pretty significantly — maybe even fatally — and would’ve surely led the cops to pull them apart to secure him, but she kinda just hops around a bit and screams before lunging for him. That’s a really weird way to attack when you actually want to kill someone.

But, then again, I don’t necessarily think she did want to kill him. I’m convinced she wanted that confession, but that she also wanted him in jail and was playing the part of the super sad and hysterical victim who was just so overcome with her grief that she wasn’t in her right mind. I think that’s what they were going for in regards to her character in general, but it came across as less sincere in the performance and more like the character was putting on an act. They then cart Ralph off while comforting her — despite the fact that she disobeyed a direct order from police, which should lead to her being detained as well! — and that plot ends.

So, she gets what she wants in the end. A person she despises is now in police custody, her competition is out of the way, and the publicity she might get for bringing that ‘murderer’ to justice might eventually lead to her own career getting a nice boost. I dunno, it just strikes me as her having a great reason to have initiated this over Ralph just being a misogynist who 'was really trying to kill Meghan and just got the wrong girl'.

So yeah, with what the show presented to us, I believe Meghan’s the real killer. Again, if they’d done more to show me that Ralph was a bad dude or that she was more affected by her supposed friend’s death, or if they'd just given that plot more room to breathe to show those things, I might’ve been more inclined to buy the narrative they were pushing but…as is, I don’t believe it.

That’s pretty much all I wanted to say on the matter. I had a lot of issues with the domestic abuse plot line too, but they barely gave that 5 minutes of the overall runtime, so does it really matter in the long run? This is just…my thought process of the only part of the episode I watched for and how disappointing it was for me. And yes, I timed each section of the episode to figure out how much time was given to each of the 4 plots, plus the dinner scene at the end, but not counting the intro theme, and the murder plot got just over 8 minutes, of which Alex was on screen for half of that time. He got less than 5 minutes of screen time. It was definitely worth it just because he’s wonderful and I just like seeing him on these shows, but from a narrative standpoint, it felt pointless.

Okay, I’m done. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Unless y’all wanna talk about this some more, cuz I’m so down for that.

[superleeleehipster]

Theories on Season 11

Hey! So, as I’m sure you all are very aware, Find Me is out, and I can honestly say that I’m somewhat relieved it did. I was tired of all the theories and anxieties I was feeling about it. At least now we know what we’re working with officially.

I don’t want to make a review, as most blogs have already done their own. For this post, I’m going to jot down some theories on what Leah’s role will be in Season 11. Some of these theories I’ve thought of and others I’ve seen from other bloggers, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down. 

Of course, it’s just my opinion, and if you don’t agree, that’s perfectly fine.

Spoilers and theories under the cut... 

So is everyone ok after 10x18? Yes? No? No worries on whatever your answer is; your emotions are valid.

Anyways, even though the episode was a bit painful to watch as Caryl shippers, I really don’t think it sunk the Caryl ship. If anything, the subtle (not really) parallels between Caryl and Daryl and Leah just showed that Caryl could very possibly happen despite all the naysayers saying they could never sleep together. 

Also, can I say that the whole fish scene was freaking hilarious.

But I digress... I have a few predictions on how Leah’s going to fit into the storyline for season 11. I might hit the nail on the head, or I might be so off that I break my thumb instead, but that’s ok. It’s what makes it fun.

1) I’ve made this first part into a group of theories instead of just one. These are theories that I’ve heard about or read, but I really don’t think are going to happen. They’re just interesting enough for me to list them, but they’re unlikely in my opinion:

- Leah is in Season 11 but in flashbacks - I don’t think they would go this route, because it would be even lazier writing than what we’ve gotten, and it would be more interesting to have her in person instead of being in flashbacks. If they went that way, it would be incredibly obvious that she is a plotpoint for Daryl and that’s it, and that’s pretty crappy writing even for TWD.

- Leah is in Season 11 but she isn’t real - Now this one is an interesting concept admittedly. What if Daryl was in such a crappy mood in the woods, and is thirsting for companionship, so he makes someone up in his head that is pretty similar to Carol, but doesn’t look like her b/c he wouldn’t want to be that kind of creepy friend. Then in Season 11, the viewer realizes one way or another that she was made up, that he made her up in his head to help with his woes, but now that he’s better and with Carol he doesn’t need her anymore. Really neat theory from a mentality standpoint, but I highly doubt that’s where the writers would go.

- Leah is in Season 11, but she dies - I know some folks have said this before, and I get it. Some of us are so done with the drama, we’re just thinking the worst case scenario at this point. What if Leah comes back and Daryl’s all happy and thinks that he’ll spend the rest of his life with her but then Leah dies somehow and he decides to go on a roadtrip with Carol to help with his man pain. I know some peeps feel like that would happen, but in my opinion, I really don’t think so. Angela Kang does have a lot of respect for Daryl and Carol (I know we don’t feel that way right now b/c of 10x18 but bear with me), as she’s said that this is about their story and their journey I really don’t think she would have the story go as low and as misogynistic as that. I honestly don’t.

Now these next two theories are the ones that I believe have a much higher chance of happening in season 11:

2). Leah is in Season 11, and is a part of the new antagonist group (Reapers) - So it wouldn’t be a season of the walking dead without some sort of antagonist being around. The Reapers have already made their presence known with the first extra episode, and I’m sure is going to cause issues throughout the season. An interesting theory that I’m a fan of that people have thought up already is that Leah is part of the Reapers. Whether she’s the leader or one of the followers, it doesn’t really matter, for she’s still a plot device for Daryl. 

The current fantasy I’m having is that Leah comes back and tries to get close to Daryl, which Daryl isn’t necessarily against but is still wary. But then Carol notices things about Leah and catches her doing stuff and she’s like “wtf?” and she tells Daryl her concerns but he brushes her off because he doesn’t trust her judgment very much right now. Most ASZ peeps think Leah is a good person but Carol’s like “mehhh something’s off”. Then the reveal happens where Leah is a double agent of sorts and betrays them all by having the Reapers infiltrating Alexandria or some crazy shit like that. Then it looks like she kills Carol in some way and Daryl’s absolutely gut wrenched because his Carol just died at the hands of his crazy ex girlfriend that he believed more than his best friend and what the fuck is wrong with him?? But then Carol comes back and butchers the Reapers cause she’s a goddamn queen and Daryl looks at her like she could fart fairy dust and gives the biggest smile we’ve ever seen him give on the show. Then he hugs her fiercely and starts sobbing, telling her how sorry he was and how relieved he was at her being alive and... same old story that’s happened on MULTIPLE occasions with other shows and books.

Now considering how Leah is made out to be in 10x18, I would say this theory is ‘less likely’ than what I thought it would be originally, but there’s still a decent chance. I don’t think Leah’s a cold blooded/narcissist, but it’s possible she could get roped up with the Reapers... and lets face it, Daryl isn’t the same person from who he was in the woods, so there’s a good chance she won’t be either when she comes back.

3). Leah is in Season 11, and pushes for a relationship with Daryl - Admittedly, this one would hurt to watch, but I think it’s a fair possibility we can’t rule out. Daryl is arguably at a better headspace now than he was way back when in the woods, and he knows he belongs with his family. But then Leah shows up and wants to start things over with him, and it could go multiple ways. He could realize right away that he doesn’t want that, and maybe he and Leah both get closer together. Or maybe he will give it a try for old times sake, but then he realizes that she’s not the person she was, or whom he thought she was, and they’re not actually a good pairing, and then he realizes “you know who I really want? That grey haired queen”... it would probably more emotional than that though.

I mean, we’ve all been there. We break up from a long term partner and it hurts like hell but we heal and we’re stronger for it. But then the ex comes back and is wanting to be with you again, and you’re at the very least tempted to give it a go b/c you were happy with them at one point. But then you’re with them and you realize that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, and maybe you should’ve listened to your goddamn gut all along b/c it was warning you that there’s a reason why it didn’t work out the first time.

Arguably, this theory would be more satisfying than the last one, because it would be Daryl who would choose who he would want to be with in the end. Think about it. We were initially bummed that Ezekiel wasn’t going to get his comic death in season 9 (and of course we were pissed about Henry), but then it turned out for the better because Carol willingly chose to leave him instead of being forced out of the relationship via death. So for Daryl to choose Carol over Leah in the end would be incredibly satisfying, albeit looooong overdue...

I still very much think Caryl is endgame despite the tough road we’re facing. I know folks are taking this last hurdle really hard because it’s been ingrained in our heads that Daryl is a “one woman kind of guy”, but... maybe that’s still the case. Maybe his heart is a “one woman kind of organ”, but Daryl’s been able to move past his traumas enough to be physical with more than one person. At least that’s how I’m seeing things at the moment. Obviously, it’s not good taste to go completely backwards on what is “known” about a character and assume that the audience would catch on as to why it would happen (like how Daryl reading the “children of abuse” book was never addressed in the show, but we’re having to assume he did b/c Norman said he did). Hoping the audience assumes the things that the writers are thinking of has always been an ongoing issue with TWD, so this whole shindig wasn’t necessarily surprising to me.

Anyways, that’s my two cents on things. I still think they’ll happen, and I still trust Kang. I’m just thinking of this as just the angsty part of a fanfic that I love and adore, and I just have to grit my teeth and wait for the author to finish writing the next chapter before hauling ass to my computer to see the update and breaking my desktop in the process. We’ll get to the healing part, I promise.

And if the spin is anything like the playful banter between them in this episode (albeit more mutual and fun), then sign me the fuck up and let me be a voyeur in their passionate travels.

Cheers my loves! 

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #3: Read your drafts out loud.

This is the best editing tip I’ve ever heard, and I always do my best to use it.  Reading out loud will do wonders for your word choice, sentence structure, and scene cadence.  And I do mean read out loud.  Don’t whisper your story, don’t murmur it to yourself.  Read it exactly as you’d have a podficcer or audiobook narrator do it.  As you do so, circle everything that doesn’t work, and then rework it.  The reworking might be as simple as changing a word or two, and might be as complex as ditching an entire passage that doesn’t match the tone you’re going for.

As an example of how this has worked for me, I’ll use my ficlet Ladybird, Ladybird.  In the first draft, there was a passage that said:

Jake sets the chunk of metal on the mantelpiece and walks away.  It’s a Medal of Honor.

I read it out loud, and hated it.  The words “metal” and “Medal” don’t look the same on the page, but they sound the same, and it made the whole paragraph clunky.  I was breaking Mark Twain’s rule against using the same uncommon word twice in one paragraph, even if technically I was using two different words.

So I circled that bit and went back to rewrite it.  “Medal of Honor” is a proper noun, so that couldn’t be rephrased, and anyway I liked how the proper name came after the description.  The phrase “sets the chunk of metal”, on the other hand, could be rewritten.  Should be rewritten, especially given how similar “metal” and “mantle” and “Medal” all sound.

I’m a firm believer in using clear everyday language.  (Any book that says you should substitute “said” with “exclaimed” or “decried” deserves to be fed to a wood chipper.)  Ergo, I wasn’t going to just substitute in words like [hastily looks up synonyms]:

Jake unloads a deposit of refined ore...

which phrasing is frickin hilarious, because now it sounds like Jake took a shit on the mantlepiece.  But the point is, “hilarious” is not the mood I’m going for.  I’m trying to convey that my narrator Jean is contemptuous of Jake’s military honors, because she doesn’t think he deserves them.  Having the readers go “he what a what onto the mantlepiece? Oh god, who’s going to clean that up?” does not get that mood across.

Bearing the goal of that scene in mind, I did some googling.  Specifically, I looked up what metal goes into a Medal of Honor.  Turns out, they’re gold.  That was no good — calling something “gold” usually means that it’s rare and precious.  I wanted Jean’s reaction to be “ugh,” not “you are gold, baby, solid gold.”  I briefly considered:

Jake sets a fish scale of gold on the mantlepiece...

because fish scales are A) approximately the same shape as Medals of Honor and B) associated with coldness and bad smells.  But “fish scale” is clunky to say out loud, and it’s confusing if you miss the metaphor and take it literally.

Inspiration finally struck when I found out on some military history site that Medals of Honor aren’t made of pure gold.  If they were, they’d be way too soft and way too heavy to be worn, much less passed down through generations.  The military therefore forges them with a (stronger, lighter) aluminum core, and uses bronze for external support.  That way the Medal can be worn for military ceremonies without either deforming one’s uniform cloth or being deformed by its own weight.

Turns out, Medals of Honor aren’t 100% gold.  In fact, you could (uncharitably) call them “gilded,” which literally means “covered in gold” and figuratively means “pretty on the surface and worthless underneath.”  In fact, you could (extremely uncharitably) call them “gilded aluminum”, thereby contrasting the high dollar-value of gold to the low dollar-value of aluminum to imply that this thing is incredibly tacky.  You could even go so far as to call it “a scrap of gilded aluminum,” which is both literally correct (if misleading) in that “scrap” can be any small and thin piece of metal, and metaphorically incorrect in that “scrap” is usually used to refer to discarded metal.

With my most heartfelt apologies to the U.S. service-members who have actually received the honor in question, the final phrase is thus:

Jake sets the scrap of gilded aluminum on the mantlepiece and walks away.  It’s a Medal of Honor.

Which is technically an accurate description of a Medal of Honor, one that nevertheless implies someone pulled crappy food-wrapper metal out of a trash heap and then put a veneer of gold onto it to try and make it look special.  Unlike the “fish scale” nonsense, it works on a literal level.  Unlike the “deposit of ore” thing, it conveys Jean’s opinion on the subject.  Unlike the original phrase, it doesn’t awkwardly echo sounds.  Maybe not the most beautiful piece of prose in the English language, but it now it does what I want it to do.

[cyanide-latte]

I see you reblogging that thing! So I am very curious, what is YOUR favorite story you have written so far! Or your favorite line or scene you feel you just nailed? I am so curious who inspires you writing wise, either fan creator or big published author! Lots of love Cy, I really admire your stuff, your vibe, you write the best and most detailed comments and are so sweet and postive, I love we are mutuals and am just curious to know more about well YOU. Thanks so much and I hope you are having a great day! XOXO.

Bless you Bexxx you absolute inspiration, you!

Truth be told, I've been sitting on this question since you sent it trying to really parse out what I'm most proud of. And I think part of the issue is that at different stages of my life (and the different sort of fics focused on in them) each have different answers. Probably because my goals and sense of accomplishment in those goals for my fics and my satisfaction with my writing continuously evolves.

To give a very basic bitch answer (and presently not counting my multitude of fics on indefinite hiatus,) I will absolutely point to the Batman: the Animated Series fanfic I wrote when I was 19. Please understand, by my own standards of writing today, that fic does make me wince for a vast number of reasons. However, I owe it a lot.

To give you the necessary background information, here's the scope: I hadn't written for 5 years prior. I started writing fanfic when I was 11, started sharing it when I was 12, and started really posting regularly to FFNet shortly before I turned 13. And I was a writing machine and I was happy doing my thing and [if I do say so myself] I wasn't half-bad at writing for my age. Sometime around Christmas after I'd turned 14, I started getting harassed on FFNet. Flaming comments on every story, tearing down my ideas, my headcanons, my plots, my ships, my OCs, and of course, me. I was told over and over that I had my head up my ass for thinking I was hot shit and writing good for a baby teen. And the real punch in the gut to me was when I tried to bring it up to my friends; rather than telling me not to listen to the asshole reviewers and build me back up, my best friend at the time told me "yeah they kind of have a point, your writing is boring. Just delete your FFNet, and we'll be a team, I'LL write since I'm better at it and you draw it as comics since that's what you're good at."

When I tell you that left me broken and devastated and sure my writing and my stories were worthless, I'm not exaggerating. My legal guardians were also not understanding or supportive and pushed me to delete my FFNet account. (You can't actually delete those, but I was able to delete all the stories I had uploaded, which was essentially about the same.) So for five years I didn't write. Not to say I didn't have ideas, but between what had happened and the ensuing abuse from that toxic best friend, (as well as the separate abuse from my guardians, both of which kept getting worse,) I felt like I shouldn't write. My stories had no meaning but pointless indulgence for me and me alone, and the lack of anyone trying to encourage me or help defend me against any of the assholes on FFNet drove the point home. It killed me not to be writing but I couldn't bear the weight that came with the thought of trying again.

Fast-forward, I'm staying at a relative's for a while to nanny their children (NOT my choice, legal guardians forced me into it,) and my 19th birthday hits. Nobody remembers except my biological mother, who mailed me the first DVD box set for Batman: the Animated Series because she'd found it and remembered how much I loved the series as a child. I was ecstatic to revisit the show, let alone OWN a quarter of it, so I binged it when I could. Little by little a fic idea formed, and before long I started typing it up on a crappy old laptop said relatives let me use. (I think being in a different environment and coming to the realization I had finally started getting away from a toxic, abusive friendship helped spur that.) On a whim, I uploaded it to FFNet and DeviantArt. By the third chapter, I finally gotten a comment from someone who would go on to become one of my best friends. The fic had a lot of starts and stops, and between chapters 6 and 12 the pacing is very wonky because I realized the story I'd originally wanted to write wasn't going to be this at all! I'd planned a 17-chapter tragedy/cautionary tale with an unrequited darkship; but between getting positive feedback, enthusiastic readers who became wonderful friends, and my ideas changing drastically as I wrote, it became a completely different story 25 chapters- and an epilogue-long. It's a slightly trashy and wholly self-indulgent little mess of a fic, but it's mine. I made it, I wrote and completed it, I own it in all its flaws and strengths, and it gave me both a fantastic community of supportive readers and enthusiastic friends that reassured me they love my writing...and it gave me back my own sense of worth as a writer as it reignited that need to write.

So yeah, it's a mess. But I'm proud of that mess and what it gave back to me. And for something I wrote...gosh, it's 13 years ago now, it's still not half-bad.

Presently, I think I'm undergoing another creative shift or growth in my writing style. I'm pretty sure it's something to do with both my pacing and narrative voice that's changing, but it's not frustrating, just different. And I'm pretty proud of everything that I've written so far and uploaded under my CyanideLatte pseud on AO3 (aka my most current pseud since my love for horror reignited in Halloween of 2019, and the username I've been most happy with in my life,) but I do have some projections about which projects I have planned that I will be the most proud of in the future!

Phew! 😅 Sorry this got so long-winded, but I do appreciate this question so much! You really got me to think about this and that is a damn plus!

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Gonna make full use of my ‘comic rant’ tag and roast Future State: Superwoman.

Spoilers! And yelling! Of the disgruntled kind!

So a few things at the start here: 1.) I wanted to love this book. I wanted it to be great. I wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt, in spite of some iffy stuff in the solicit text. So this rant is not coming from a place of having decided this was going to be awful ahead of time. 2.) My tolerance for bad Supergirl comics is pretty high! Takes a lot for me to actually come out and say that a particular issue is trash. Reader: This story is trash.

It’s not ‘middle-aged white guys writing/drawing a story about sending a minor to a potentially hostile planet fully nude’ trash, mind you. It’s the compost bin, rather than the landfill. Slightly nicer trash, but it still stinks to high heaven. Allow me to expand!

PROLOGUE - SUMMARY: ...I actually can’t summarize this comic b/c it would devolve into a lot of senseless yelling. We’ll just have to tease out this terrible plot as we go along. 

PART I - DEAD DOGS TELL BAD TALES: The comic opens with Kara standing at Krypto’s grave. That’s not why this comic is trash, but it bears mentioning. Because why. Why would you do this. 

PART II - IN WHICH IT ONLY GETS WORSE: So, Kara has a running inner monologue, and the main thing we gather from Kara’s thoughts is that it was Krypto who taught her to be a hero. On paper, that sounds very sweet! In practice, it reads as Kara having no moral center whatsoever—whatever good qualities she might possess, she did not learn from her parents, or her foster parents, or friends, or fellow heroes. Nor do they come from within Kara herself. Nope, t’was Krypto who taught Kara not to be a jealous rage monster. That is not hyperbole--Kara’s walking around angry about her cousin all the time and she’s like, ‘It was you, Krypto, who taught me not to judge, and to let go of anger.’ Listen, I love Krypto, but this? This is, as the youth would say, a bad look.

PART III - THOSE CERTAINLY ARE...SOME THEMES: The set-up here is that Kara is on the moon, and has established a sanctuary for alien refugees. That’s a dynamite idea! I love that! Buuuuut Kara didn’t look at the plight of alien refugees and say, ‘I want to help!’ Really, she didn’t even look at herself and say, ‘I don’t want others to feel like I’ve felt.’ No, she said, ‘Earth won’t accept me as a hero, and Clark didn’t name me protector of Earth, so. I’m out!’ (Honestly, if your moral compass is so whack that you need a dog to walk you back from Hulk-Smashing...can’t say I blame Clark for not picking you, Kara!) But apparently, the people on the moon don’t really like her either. And it is literally never explained why. There’s a whole montage of Kara fixing stuff and saving lives and all the moon folk just glare at her. This makes both the moon people AND Kara look like a**holes, because they come across as ungrateful, and she comes across as a glory hound. Thanks! I hate it! So the ‘peace’ Kara’s found on the moon isn’t really peaceful at all, cause she still resents her cousin, and people still don’t like her, in spite of the fact that she’s constantly performing acts of service for them. 

Also, side note, I’m just now realizing this is an entire population of alien refugees...and Kara is somehow still the odd one out. Like, Earth I get, because everyone else is a human and maybe freaked out by the super powers. But a bunch of aliens? WHY. Why did you do this. Why did this need to be set on the moon with alien refugees if you’re not going to interrogate Kara’s identity as an alien refugee herself AND all of the aliens are inexplicably humanoid in appearance and utterly ordinary in terms of power levels.  

Like. This is not the CW show, where they have a budget, and a huge ensemble cast to serve. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. AAARRRRRGHHHH.

PART III CONT’D: There’s also this weird ‘birthright’ element introduced...like, Clark and Jon stole Kara’s ‘right’ to be earth’s defender which is...a terrible reading of Kara’s modern origin. It brings in the idea that Kara is a ‘chosen one’ and because she didn’t get to be that chosen one, all of her hero work is for nothing. Never mind the whole central conceit of what makes Clark and Kara heroic...that they have this incredible power, and choose to do good with it. Nah...it’s all about her ‘right’ to protect the people of Earth! And mean ol’ Clark took that away! THANKS. I HATE IT. 

PART IV - A POOR USE OF SPACE: So, all of the Future State books kind of struggle with the issue of too much exposition, which is understandable. They have to introduce an entirely new status quo in a very limited amount of literal page space, so you *really* have to have a handle on how you allocate your time and focus.  

Introducing a brand new, lore-heavy heroic character who gets all of the development and dynamic art and pulls focus away from the character you’re meant to be writing is a bad use of a two issue limited series.

Like, this is a crappy Supergirl comic but it’s a great backdoor pilot for a Lynari ongoing, I guess. 

Imagine if in the Jon Superman book, they introduced a random, brand new best friend for Jon, and he got the big character arc instead of Jon. That’s something you save for an arc in an ongoing title, NOT A TWO ISSUE EVENT COMIC.  

Back to said new character, there’s a lot of forced attempts to parallel Kara and Lynari, but Lynari’s backstory is so confusing, rushed, and poorly explained that it’s like: okay, they’re both...angry? And the moon jerks hate them? ...uh. Okay.

(I’m gonna bring back my ‘why is this set on the moon, even’ question so that my ‘poor use of space’ header becomes a better joke.) 

PART V - I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO...B/C THERE SURE AIN’T ONE HERE: I’ve already mentioned that Krypto was apparently Kara’s conscience so when Lynari’s aunt arrives to...kill them? (again, everything about Lynari’s backstory is rushed and poorly explained) Kara gets real mad and basically pulls a Gothel: ‘You want me to be the bad guy? Fine! Now I’m the bad guy.’ But thank goodness Lynari is there to tell Kara no! Don’t murder the giant aunt eel! Lynari then steals Kara’s powers and gives up the swamp jewel that’s been hidden inside their body and now their aunt is less murder-y!

WOW. Couldn’t even give the big damn hero moment to Kara in her own book, huh?

So the day is saved. It takes Kara a while to regain her powers, and it’s only then, when she’s no longer ‘above’ the moon jerks, that they’re like, ‘oh, we like her!’ There is a bit of narration about how that attitude is awful. But that narration is provided by Lynari. See, the inner monologue is no longer Kara’s thoughts, but rather it has switched to Lynari’s point of view. They’re telling us this story. And do you know why?

PART VI - WHY THIS COMIC *SUCKS*: KARA DIES. SHE’S THE FRIGGIN’ ‘SECOND GRAVE’ OF THE TITULAR ‘TWO GRAVES’

Fudge this comic to heck.

See, Kara dies on the moon, presumably of old age. She’s buried next to Krypto. And this random character who we’re suddenly supposed to care about tells us her story. Not Clark. Not the Danvers. Not Brainy. Not even one of the supporting cast members from her solo title. No one from Kara’s life is mentioned at all, save for Jon and Clark, and they’re pretty much relegated to flashbacks of Kara punching them. 

PART VII - TIME TO COMPARE DEATHS, I GUESS: First and foremost can I just say that I hate that’s a sentence that I’m typing about Kara in the year of our lord, 2021. But okay: Kara’s big famous death in Crisis stopped the entire DC universe cold. Everyone paused in the middle of the destruction of the multiverse to mourn her loss and honor her (GENUINELY HEROIC) sacrifice. Clark and Barbara--two established characters with a strong connection/relationship to Kara--offered lovely eulogies. 

This one: Kara gets to die of old age in obscurity after a lifetime of striving to be recognized and only achieving it by de-powering and serving a population of jerks. 

Not the warm and fuzzy ending you think it is!

(Meanwhile, Clark lives for millennia and spawns an entire dynasty of Els, all of ‘em out there, protecting the cosmos. I was looking forward to House of El in the hopes of maybe seeing some Kara stuff but NOPE. Thanks to Superwoman, we’re probably not gonna see any future Kara stuff beyond this! G R E A T)

And like, the argument could be made that this ending makes Kara happy. This is the life she chooses! She wants to be alone and garden on the moon! Except, we get zero insight from Kara regarding the remainder of her life. We only have Lynari’s narration and some montage shots...nearly all of which focus on other characters. But honestly, even if we did get Kara’s side of things, I doubt it would shed much light on her feelings, bEEECAUSE...

PART VIII - SUPER BLAND: This Kara really has no personality outside of ‘detached and vaguely bitter.’ I like Sauvage, I think she’s an incredibly talented artist, but here, Kara is stiff and her expression often reads as aloof. She’s very pretty, but it comes at the expense of being expressive. (And I know Sauvage can do expressive stuff...because Lyanari gets to be expressive.) Like...I love that shojo manga vibe but this is a Kara devoid of spark and warmth. 

...Like...Melissa Benoist’s portrayal of Kara is right there... 

I’ve already sort of touched on this but her inner monologue doesn’t have much personality either. She’s just parroting the same, ‘I need to do as Krypto taught me!’ nonsense for both issues. Until, of course, we shift to Lynari’s narration, and lose Kara’s thread entirely. 

PART IX - LET’S WRAP THIS UP: This book frustrates me to no end because it had a lot of stuff going for it. It’s got a female writer and artist--still a rarity for the Supergirl book--it’s a limited series mostly free of continuity and character baggage, and it’s not tied down to the grimdark cyberpunk stuff happening in the Gotham books. YOU COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING. And, once again, DC goes with a pitch that’s: Kara is angry, Kara resents Clark...and Kara dies.

It’s also happening...right as Kara has no dedicated ongoing title, the movie’s been shelved, the TV show is entering its sixth and final season, and all promotion has shifted to new CW and HBO shows. 

*screams into the void* 

MAAAAAAN I hate this book. I hate that it retroactively makes me hate the Andreyko run a little bit--a run that I took to be about a traumatized young woman forced to confront her grief, and who leans on a beloved animal companion for comfort. Here, Krypto is L I T E R A L L Y the reason Kara’s not constantly frying folks with her heat vision. 

I hate that this book has made me use the word ‘literally’ so much in this rant.

I hate that this could possibly be more in continuity than Millennium.

Remember Millennium? Where Kara was in like...five pages? And she was warm, and kind, and promised to help Rose because it was the right thing to do, and oh yes, WAS PRESIDENT OF EARTH?!??! AND A CLASSY OLD LADY!?!?!?!?! WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’ IN THE FAR FLUNG FUTURE!?!?!?!?!

I hate that I’m using my lunch hour to rant about how much I hate this comic.  

I hate that DC editorial seems hell-bent on erasing the interesting aspects of Kara’s character to sand her down to ‘the angry one’ or ‘Batman 2.0′

PART X - LET’S END ON SOME (?) POSITIVES: Don’t read this book! Don’t do it! Don’t waste your time and money!

Instead, check out ANYTHING ELSE. If you want mom!Kara, read Tom Taylor’s ‘Last Daughters of Krypton’ in the DC Nuclear Winter special. If you want heroic oldlady!Kara, read Millennium. Honestly? Pick up anything by Bendis that has Supergirl in it. It is miles away better than this. You want angry Kara working through her grief? Andreyko, Red Lantern, even Infected. ANYTHING BUT THIS. HECK, grab Superman of Metropolis instead! That has bad Kara characterization but at least she doesn’t end up dead. 

Anyways. This comic is bad. I wish it wasn’t! And this is now the SECOND TIME IN A ROW that Kara’s book ends on a terrible note before the character disappears from monthly comics for an unknown period of time.  

*screams into the void again*