#i fuckin love the twins knowing their way around fabric ok

[blorbologist]

I rewatched s1 of vox machina again and at the feast where they meet the briarwoods are Percy and Vex wearing matching necklaces? Any headcanon behind why only Those two would wear something matching?

Hi anon!

For anyone who hasn't memorized their Feast costumes unlike me, this is what they're referring to:

They're even in inverted colors - Percy's gold star with the black chain [?], while Vex's is black with the gold chain.

It's been frequently headcanoned that those matching stars are (on a Doyalist level) nods the stars of Whitestone, as seen on the city's sigil:

Those stars represent the past champions of the Dawnfather, one of Whitestone's patron gods ;3

From a Watsonian perspective, my personal guess is that when preparing for the feast, Vox Machina were probably herded by Percy to one or two stores with clothing up to his standards, and thus they probably each got their accent pieces from the same shop.

I like the idea of Percy, with his dream from the night before still fresh on his mind, gravitating towards the star jewelry. Wanting to carry a piece of Whitestone with him to this return to nobility. And Vex loving the look and plucking a similar necklace for herself, potentially gently prying for information or making a comment about looking good on his arm if they match. Maybe Percy clears his throat, makes a cryptic excuse for his choice, but takes comfort in the support Vex is showing - even if she doesn't know what it means to him.

[harryandmolly]

i could write it better than you ever felt it - two

Summary: fuck growing up. this is freedom, this is life, this is youth -- 2007 Warped Tour style.

Warnings: Language, a lot of tongue

Word count: 5k

Valentina forgets, just briefly, why the fuck she agreed to this around the time she unloads the 30th box from the truck.

And then the gates open.

Val’s never been to Disney World despite the fact that she and her family have lived in Florida all her life. Her parents never thought of it as a suitable vacation or activity for their children’s growing minds. But she imagines this is what it looks like, feels like when the gates of the Magic Kingdom open in the morning.

She’s watching from afar when they start letting people in. Swarms of teens and young adults with multicolored hair and vibrant graphic tees pour in searching out solace and togetherness. They’ll find it here, she’s sure. She always did.

The first bands were on at 11:30am. She’s camped out at her now fully functional merch tent and the initial door opening rush has ceased. She’s officially back in the saddle, and officially exhausted.

Her feet are propped up on the table and her sunglasses are drawn low down her nose as she surveys the area and tells herself she’s not looking for that guy, the one she saw during load-in. The one with the legs.

A hand clamps down over her eyes and her instincts tell her to drop her feet and squeal. A low rumbling laugh falls over her shoulder. Her racing heart settles.

“Alex, you’re a prick.”

And there he is. All 6’1”, 130 pounds of him. Alex Gaskarth, lead singer of All Time Low, her second favorite goofball.

She looks over her shoulder at him and grins despite her grating words. He takes his cue to step around the table and present himself to her. He’s wearing a smirk and a douchey white snapback. He lifts his thick dark eyebrows.

“But I’m your prick,” he reminds her. She shakes her head and stands. He holds out his long, gangly arms for her to wrap herself up in.

She sways them back and forth and lands a friendly kiss on his cheek. “I can’t believe it took you this long to come visit. I half expected the bus would run over you when we pulled in here this morning.”

“Following you around the venue like a puppy is so 2005,” he chuckles, alluding to the not-so-secret crush he harbored pretty famously on her during her last fall tour with Streets. Despite the potential for awkwardness, Alex and Val remained friends. She even wrote with him sometimes when he was in the Miami area.

She claps him on the back and releases him. “What time are you on? Hurley.com, right?”

He grins proudly, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, can you believe it? Fuckin’ Hurley.com! We’re on at 4 today.”

She bobs her head. “That’s a good slot. Long enough after lunch that people will be looking around for a set to catch.”

“Exactly. Rian’s out with the posterboard now walking the line.”

Val tossed her head back with a laugh. Walking the line was a time-honored tradition at Warped Tour for smaller bands. They designate members to walk around the grounds with a posterboard announcing their stage and set time. It’s a duty no one particularly likes because it’s hot and a little humiliating but the ATL boys always did it with gusto. Val’s pretty sure it had more to do with meeting girls than with the pride of convincing potential fans to come catch their set.

“I don’t miss that shit,” she admits.

He shoots her a look. “You must miss the rest of it, though. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Psychoanalyzing me already, Gaskarth? Buy me a drink first.”

She gently backs him off with her sharp wit. The truth is, Alex knows more about her than she’d probably care to realize. He’s perceptive as hell, which makes him an amazing songwriter. But here, at the merch table, where she can feel the heavily lined eyes of 17-year-olds staring at them curiously, she doesn’t much feel like getting into her personal life. Especially since she knows he has the ear of Raf.

“I will definitely buy you a drink at the barbecue tonight!” he offers with a glint in his eye.

“The booze is free at the barbecue.”

“That’s perfect, free drinks are my favorite kind to buy. I gotta bounce, I’ll see you tonight, kid.”

He bumps her fist with his and jogs off, holding the saggy ass of his skinny jeans up with one hand as he waves at a giggling group of fans.

When the smell of his Axe body spray and sweat fades, the watchful eyes remain. Val is used to them, had gotten good at ignoring them, but she’s a little out of practice.

They feel sharper than she remembers. She blinks hard, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She swallows uncomfortably and reaches for a water bottle.

Despite the 50/50 male to female ratio of attendance at Warped Tour and the general understanding that women are more a part of the scene than ever before, female band members, especially female drummers, are not widely accepted. She was bothered by it for a time, unsure how anyone could mistake her drive to write and make music as a way for her to sleep with band and crew. She kept everyone at arm’s length, desperate to keep from gaining a reputation. But it never mattered. She got one anyway.

Val shoots a glance at the gaggle of teen girls in Delia’s jeans and Paramore t-shirts. They pretend to be doing anything but gossiping about her. She turns her attention back to her chipping navy nail polish and smiles. Some things never change.

+

Shawn pulls the fabric of his t-shirt from where it clings to his abs and pulls a face.

“I’m fuckin’ drenched,” he mumbles. Seth nods, squinting against the sun. They’ve just come off their first set playing to about seven people from the Smartpunk stage.

“California is hot,” Francis whines. Shawn beans him with a plastic water bottle. Francis grabs it out of the dust and throws it back, but it goes wide when he gets distracted by something behind Shawn.

Shawn turns his head to look. Through the straggling crowd, he sees Raf and Val Moreno at the Streets of Gold merch tent looking like the casual rock gods they are. Shawn’s smile is shy and cornered on either side by a blush.

“Should we go say hi?” murmurs Vince, their guitar and drum tech.

Shawn winces. “Well we shouldn’t stand here and strategize about it, that’s fucking weird.”

But they do stand there for another minute or two, quietly hoping Raf will spot them and wave them over so they feel like the kids getting invited to sit at the cool lunch table. But he’s embroiled in what looks like a heated discussion with his sister, so they slouch off for a break under the merch tent with Dan and his battery operated fans.

Shawn’s a little relieved. He’s not sure he can be around either Moreno twin without making an ass of himself. He knows Raf, yes, they’ve been first openers on more recent Streets shows when they’ve come through Toronto, but that doesn’t make him any less of a total fucking dweeb around him, given how long he’s been a Streets fan. And Val, Val he’s never met and probably never should. Shawn’s not bad around girls but he has a funny feeling he’d go full idiot motor-mouth if he got to look deep into the soulful brown eyes of Valentina Moreno. Maybe he can go the whole summer without talking to her? Is that possible?

He contemplates the likelihood under the tent with his eyes closed. He hears some female giggling and looks up. There are about six 14-year-old girls staring at them shyly.

“Hey, Shawn!” one of them greets, shoved forward by the others to be their mouthpiece despite the shakiness in her voice.

Shawn beams and stands, looming over them. “Hey, guys! Did you catch the set earlier?”

The leader of the group looks annoyed. “No, only Carly did,” she gestures to a petite Latina girl behind her who looks horrified that Shawn Mendes knows her name now, “We were stuck at soccer camp until noon and couldn’t get here.”

Shawn ducks slightly to seem less large and intimidating. He looks around a girl’s pink hair to catch Carly’s eye. “Did you have fun?”

Carly blinks and clears her throat. Her friends look awe-struck. “Yes. Yeah, you guys were great.”

Shawn bobs his head. “Thank you. You guys wanna take a picture?”

They agree and hand him a little pink Razr. They gather around him as he squats partially to fit them all in the frame. He turns the phone around and expertly positions it to snap the photo. With hugs and a couple purchased t-shirts later, they’re off to bask in the glow.

“Shawn Mendes: setting teenage loins on fire since 1988.”

Shawn smirks at Francis. “Are you jealous about the 14-year-olds, Frank? Do we need to have a talk?”

The band guffaws. Francis’s face goes flat. “Fuck off, you know I love older women.”

“I do,” Shawn chuckles, shaking his head.

“This year is the year I marry Hayley Williams,” Francis reminds them all. Shawn tips his head back and lets his eyes shut again, resting up before the first barbecue of the tour.

“This is the year I fuck Bigfoot,” Seth chirps.

It’s the last thing Shawn remembers hearing before he drifts off in a nice post-show nap.

+

Val can’t really explains the bubble of nerves she feels as she sits in the front lounge of the Streets bus with her make up bag. She’s freshly showered and applying a cat eye when Raf steps out of the bunk area with a resigned smile.

“You look pretty,” he comments half-heartedly.

“Don’t sound so bummed about it,” she chuckles, sparing him a glance as she raises her eyeliner wand with a steady hand.

“I’m not. Sorry. I’m just… I’m sorry about earlier. I was being weird,” Raf mumbles, collapsing into the booth seat across the table from her.

Val gamely lowers her hand to focus on him. She sweeps a wave of almost too shiny stick-straight hair over her shoulder and regards him carefully. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not. It’s not your shit. And I always make it your shit,” he sighs.

Val bites into her lower lip, flipping through her lip gloss options. After a moment, she looks up at him. “It’s just… it’s been a couple years, Raf, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Raf swallows and Val feels his embarrassment in her gut like it’s hers. She winces.

“I don’t know why I still can’t be around her. I feel like such a fucking kid,” he rasps. He nervously adjusts the Taking Back Sunday snapback on his dark curls and huffs.

“It’s not like there’s a rule. You and Bea, it was fuckin’ complicated. And it was so hot and cold and on and off for a long time. You’re not a robot, you can’t turn it off because you want to. And even if she pretends she can, she can’t.”

He looks up. “Did she say something to you?”

“Jesus Christ, Raf, stop. I’m talking to you now as your sister, not as Bea’s friend. I cannot be your informant or your go-between. We’re not doing that again.”

Raf held up his hands. “Right. Yes. I’m sorry. Old habits. Cool. We’re good.”

Raf stands and heads for the door without another word. Val opens her mouth to stop him but his long legs carry him faster than her brain can come up with something comforting to say. She wrinkles her nose and pouts at the magnifying mirror.

With any luck, she’d get her hands on enough Jack Daniels not to be worrying about keeping 15 yards between her brother and his sometimes-girlfriend. But if she wants any booze at all, she’d better leave now.

She follows stragglers from the bus grounds to where they’ve set up the grills and stereos. There’s something romantic about wading through trampled grass, following bonfire smoke and pop-punk to get to where she wants to be. And when she arrives, she’s welcomed with open arms and open containers of booze.

The New Found Glory guys and Bea pounce on her first, doling out hugs and swigs of gin. Val feels her heart pounding against Ryan Key of Yellowcard’s chest as she hugs him because she’ll never be fully over that little crush. She flips off the Streets band and crew as they holler at her from a stack of strategically placed hay bales. They’re surrounded by a younger band she doesn’t recognize.

She gathers a plate of food, high fives Kevin Lyman and snags a beer before she strolls over to join her family. As she stands over them, she sees a familiar face.

“Val, these are the Forefront guys. Guys, this is my sister Val,” Raf introduces, pointing out Francis, Bobby, Seth, Vince, Carter and Shawn.

Val slides on a smooth grin and plops down next to Shawn, Blue Jays skateboarding boy from this morning. Because when life hands you lemons.

“Hi,” she murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes at him when his eyes go wide. He chokes slightly on a bite of hot dog and mumbles “hi” through a mouthful of bread.

She’s undeterred. From this close, she can see the little freckles on the base of his neck and the way his sideburns are curly like the rest of his hair. It’s refreshing – curls aren’t a thing in the scene. It makes him stand out. That and the foot of height he has on anyone that comes near him.

She’s heard of Forefront from Raf. She knows some of their music. They opened a few shows after her tenure as Streets’ drummer, so her familiarity is limited. She likes his voice, though. It’s the kind of voice that makes you want to close your eyes and live in it for a while, let it take you somewhere. She has half a mind to close her eyes and just listen to him talk now.

But he’s gone quiet. She wonders if maybe she threw him off by planting right next to him. Val knows as both a confident woman and a female scene drummer she can be an intimidating presence. She doesn’t so much mind that, but it does throw off her game sometimes.

She drinks a little harder. He does the same. As he does, his body, previously turned away and closed off from her, opens up. He starts looking over at her when she laughs at something Francis said or when she makes her sly cracks that have the whole group roaring. Just once or twice she catches him staring just a little too long. If their faces weren’t bronzed out by the light of the fire, she’d catch his heavy blush.

Some of the group breaks off until it’s Francis, Shawn, Val and Naveen sitting around listening to Francis blabber over blink-182’s Take Off Your Pants And Jacket in the background. Shawn and Val are both picking at straw from a hay bale when the song changes to First Date.

Their heads shoot up like meercats. Val looks at Shawn with a grin. He goes noticeably pink at noticing the same song she has.

“I love Take Off Your Pants,” she confesses, “It was like, a turning point album for me.”

Shawn nods eagerly, tossing his straw aside and licking his lips. She watches the black ring bob distractingly. “Totally. God, Stay Together For the Kids? So fucking good.”

“Oh my god, legendary,” she agrees, pressing her lips into a gentle smile.

He gets his first good look at her for the night. He’s been trying to keep his eyes down, trying not to be weird, but she’s a little magnetic.

He notices her long, rounded fingernails and wonders if she wore them that long when she was still drumming. He wonders if she straightens her dark hair or if it’s that shiny all on its own. He looks at the fullness of her lips and imagines what flavor her lipgloss is. He stops himself when he realizes he’s thinking about how her flared hips would feel under his hands when she’s dancing to Beverly Hills by Weezer.

Now, though, since they’re talking, he has invitation to look at her. She’s a classic kind of beauty with a soft round face, deep, dark eyes and cupid’s bow-shaped lips. She’s kinda tall for a girl at 5’8” but still petite enough to make you wonder how she hits those drums so hard. Or, used to.

She’s beautiful. She’s been beautiful for years. He knows because he’s been a Streets fan since he saw them by happenstance at a little club in Toronto when he was a moody 14-year-old. They had only just gotten signed and were opening for Bayside at the time. He remembers quirking his eyebrows when she took the stage, that little hint of a smirk on her face, that look of “just you watch.”

She plays hard. She’s a damn good drummer. Naveen is a decent replacement, but Val Moreno was special. She is special. And she’s pulling on his hand.

“C’mon, Mendes, I need a refill,” she announces, tugging on him as she turns toward the tables of booze. His eyes fall to the snug back pockets of her hiphuggers. He licks his lips again and follows willingly.

“What can I make you?” he offers gallantly, holding his arms out to the bottles of booze.

Val’s eyebrows lift as she leans against a lamppost. “What is this, “Cocktail?””

Shawn grins at the reference and ducks his head. “I’m a bartender when we’re not on tour. Try me.”

This time Val’s the one licking her lips at the implication. Trying him doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend time.

“Whiskey sour,” she requests with a nod. He beams at the proffered challenge and reaches for a fresh solo cup, expertly whipping up her drink the way he makes them at The Copper Bar back home in Toronto.

He hands it to her with a raised eyebrow. She takes a sip, watching him as he watches her. She approves.

“That’s good. You know your way around a bottle.”

“I do what I can,” he says without a hint of false modesty. Her heart smacks against her ribs. She fights to soothe it as he leads her not back toward their friends but around the perimeter of the barbecue.

“So. First day. You shitting yourself yet?” she asks.

Shawn laughs and adjusts the backwards cap on his head nervously. She blinks and thinks of Raf for a flash of a second.

“Today was rough,” he admits, “We’ve been opening for some cool bands so we’ve had a lot of kids to play for recently. When they’re not trapped in front of you, when they can just walk past your stage to go catch Pennywise on main, I mean yeah, it’s disheartening.”

Val knows the feeling well but gets the sense the sage older sister vibe wouldn’t be appropriate here given how not subtly he’s brushing their hands together as they walk.

“I actually heard people talking about your set today,” she says. He lights up. She brightens up right with him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Some girls at my table said you were playing a keyboard. They acted like they’d never seen one before.”

Shawn shrugs. “I like the keyboard. Feels a little elevated sometimes. It’s different.”

Val slugs back another sip of whiskey and notices how light she feels. She hopes if she starts to float away he’ll catch her.

They make another turn around the perimeter and their cups are empty by the time they get there so they refill. By the time they come back again, Shawn is stumbling lazily, holding Val’s hand high as she twirls toward the table to grab a beer. She’s singing along, and not at all badly, to Pardon Me by Weezer. He watches her with a close-mouthed smile and sparkling eyes and he’s half in love and the other half is three sheets to the wind.

When they reach the table, she drops his hand and before he can feel dejected, she hands him a beer and drags him away from the rabble and the music and the cloud of weed and cheap booze toward the buses. It’s not subtle, it’s public, people are definitely taking note of who’s skulking off with who, and Val seems to pay it no mind. Shawn swings his head back to look at what they’re leaving. He avoids Raf’s watchful gaze and instead stares at Francis who looks a little impressed and a little fucking flabbergasted.

“Do you like touring, Shawn?” she asks, continuing to drag him by the hand like she knows exactly where they’re going. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t.

“I love touring,” he says honestly, hiccupping over the last word. She giggles and turns, walking backwards up the hill with a beer in one hand and his hand in the other. He wants to memorize this moment.

Val Moreno isn’t just looking at him. She doesn’t just know his name. She’s dragging him up a hill to god knows where with beers and it occurs to him there’s no bus call tonight because they’re only driving to Ventura in the morning. What the fuck is going on.

She’s plopping into cross-legged position on a patch of mud. He notices that she doesn’t seem to do much very gracefully, other than hit the drums. He lowers next to her and she releases his hand.

“I like touring sometimes. Other times it makes me… crazy,” she confides, narrowing her eyes at the fairgrounds below being broken down by venue staff. She blinks slowly. He watches her wet her lips and sip her beer.

“It can be a lot,” he agrees softly, unsure of how to answer. He finds himself wanting to be helpful to her in some way, in whatever way she might need.

He gets like this around girls sometimes. He wants to be whatever they want him to be.

She ignores his confused glance and drops her cryptic topic. Instead, she stares out at the floodlights painting the grounds pale colors against the charcoal southern California sky.

“Do you miss drumming?” he whispers.

She doesn’t blink, doesn’t hesitate. “Every day.”

He’s quiet for another minute. “Why did you stop?”

She looks at him warmly. He feels it down to his toes. She puts her beer down and turns to face him, shuffling between his bent knees. She plants her manicured hands on the tears in his black jeans and looks him over carefully. He feels himself go a little hard against his thigh under her study.

“Val?” he whispers.

“Hmm?” she hums, looking up from his impressive arms to his even more impressive face.

“You gonna kiss me?” he croaks, his mouth going dry.

Valentina grins wide. “You’re goddamn right I am.”

She doesn’t so much kiss him as maul him. She launches into his body, securing her hands by his where they’re planted behind him to hold them up. She plunders his lips, sucking his lower lip into her mouth, teasing the piercing to make him moan. She licks hungrily into his mouth. He pushes off his hands to pull himself up right and hold her tight against him, wanting to feel her chest against his, see if their hearts were pounding in time, if they were as in synch as their lips.

She sinks her fingers into his hair and tugs. His body tightens along with his grip on her. He whimpers loud into her mouth, sucking gently at her tongue. She cards her fingers through his hair like she’s desperate for something but he’s not sure what it could be because he’s given her everything he has in this kiss. He bites down on her lower lip when she makes to pull away to his neck.

She tastes like whiskey and beer and her hair is impossibly softer than it looks as he plays with the ends, the fingers of his other hand flirting with the hem of her shirt. She wiggles in his arms until his fingertips nudge underneath. His hands wander up over the perfect caramel skin of her back, over the band of her lacy bra, brushing the downy hairs on the nape of her neck. He thinks about lifting her arms and pulling off her tee but he resists, dropping a hand down to slide into her back pocket instead.

She gasps a little into his mouth at his teasing squeeze. She nips at his lips playfully, giggling into the kiss in a way she hasn’t with anyone in a long time. She knows she’s drunk, they both are, but this feels like its own intoxication.

She pulls back slightly to breathe, tucking her hair behind her ears. Shawn’s lips are swollen and his pupils are blown out. She flicks gently at his bottom lip with her tongue, enjoying the way his breathing hitches whenever she uses her tongue on him. She pecks at his lips, wriggling back into his hand as he experimentally massages her ass through her skinny jeans.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he hisses, grunting when she drops her lips to the freckles she noticed on his neck earlier.

Val smiles against the gently tanned skin, sinking her teeth in to hear him yelp.

“Oh, fucking Christ,” he mutters, gathering her in closer, unwilling to move his hands from her ass.

“Wanna leave a mark,” she murmurs, tonguing his throat. He nods without hesitation.

“Please, fuck, yes,” he rasps, already picturing how it’ll look in the mirror tomorrow morning, how long it might last on his sensitive skin.

Val nibbles and sucks like she’s got a formula in place and maybe she does but he definitely doesn’t care. It feels fucking good. It feels even better, somehow, when she leans back to survey her work and smiles. She likes claiming him.

“So sexy, Shawn,” she whispers into his lips through another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He groans in agreement. Her teeth bump up against his piercing and she pulls back to lick at it playfully.

“This is sexy, too,” she comments, pecking at the corner of his mouth, feeling the enamel dig into her lip.

“Yeah?” he pants, blinking his eyes open to see her looking at him with a Cheshire cat smile and hooded lids. He licks the taste of her off his lower lip.

“I like piercings,” she tells him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with her finger. It quivers under her touch. He keeps his eyes level with hers.

“What… what else do you like?” he nearly gasps. Her eyebrows lift.

“You wanna know what I like, Shawny?”

The low tremor of his voice has him nodding eagerly. He squeezes her ass again for emphasis. “Yeah.”

“I like your hands on my ass. And I like your tongue in my mouth,” she replies smoothly, hooking her fingers back into his curls and tilting his head to stroke her tongue against his.

He moans loud, obscenely, and tips back into the dirt with her on top of him. Her weight is comforting somehow, and the motion kicks up a breeze through her hair, sending a distinctly citrusy scent at him to overwhelm him further.

He hears himself speaking but isn’t sure why he feels the need to, especially since he’s literally talking into her mouth. “You smell good.”

She giggles and their teeth clash and Shawn feels a shiver rip up his back. It’s so casually intimate, feels couple-y and sweet, it makes Shawn a little dizzy. He grunts and tries not to rut into her like a teenager since she’s just lying on top of him and not making any moves to grind against him or take his clothes off. Which he’s fine with, he can totally handle himself. The raging hard-on in his cage-like jeans tells him otherwise, but fuck it. When’s he going to have this chance again?

Val likes feeling him solid and warm underneath her, between her and the briny-smelling dirt. She’s just interested in kissing him, in exploring the way their lips fit together and the noises he makes when she flicks at the tip of his tongue or scratches at the curls on the back of his neck. He’s not pushing her either, which is nice. He’s not yanking at her shirt or shoving his hands down her pants. He’s making her feel like he’ll take what he can get from her when she offers it. That’s kinda nice.

The flood lights go out below them. The party is over. The venue is broken down. They both jerk upright when the world around them goes absolutely dark.

Val pants. Shawn sits up with her between his knees. He groans.

“How are we going to get back? We can’t see anything.”

Val winces. “Yeah, bad planning,” She hops up and takes his hand, yanking him to his feet, “C’mon, baby steps.”

They do get back down the hill to where the buses are. It’s not easy, and they both fall a couple times, and by the time they reach the bottom they’re both certainly more sober. He walks her to her bus and swings her hand playfully, feeling like a kid dropping his date off and wondering who’s watching them from the windows as he kisses her goodnight. She gives him one last little peck on his lip ring before sending him away and crawling into her bunk.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @stillinskislydia @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn​ @alone-in-madness​ @alone-in-madness @singanddreamanyway @accioalena @randi-eve

[ask-secretagentsquad]

Twintuition

When Lukas finally came to again, he found himself bound tight by ropes, sitting against the wall. He shifted uncomfortably, almost immediately noticing that he was dressed in a different outfit. The fabric was almost stiff, and was definitely not what he was used to. His arms were pressed against his sides and his ankles were held together tightly by the rough line, all he could do was squirm, but couldn't undo any of the twisted rope.

Lukas looked around quickly at the area, seeing the agents conversing and deciding what to do next, and soon catching sight of his actual clothes, folded and set beside his bag which had obviously been gone through. A sudden thought struck him. His necklace. The necklace. He couldn't move his hands to feel for the necklace, he couldn't feel it around his neck. There was a new fear that he hadn't felt before. What had they done with it?

Lukas didn't get much more time to think before a voice spoke up beside him.

"Morning, buddy.”

He jumped at the voice of Jesse, who’d been waiting by his side for him to wake. Lukas for a moment didn’t know what to do. He was so used to his quick escapes, and even captured, he’d never had his opposer be Jesse himself. He reminded himself that this wasn’t his Jesse. No scar, that’s not his Jesse.

“H- Hello there,” he managed to contain a light stutter, however still unable to hide a break in his voice. He cleared his throat quickly and tugged against his binds. He tried to put up his act again, but he questioned his ability to keep it up for long.

“Would you mind?” he held out his hands and gave Jesse his best puppy eyes, “The uh— cuffs aren’t necessary, are they?”

Jesse scoffed and stood up.

“They are absolutely necessary.”

Lukas dropped his hands and sighed.

“You’d keep me tied up, Jesse? Me? Lukas?” he said in an almost pouty voice to get his attention. However, he dropped the expression with a groan as his counterpart stepped up beside Jesse, placing a hand around his waist.

“Unfortunately for you, he’s already got one of us.”

Lukas sighed at the appearance and shifted uncomfortably. It was like looking into a mirror. A mirror glaring, looking down on him.

"Hm. Guess I'm too late for the act, huh?" he grumbled.

"Mhm," Jesse nodded, earning another tired sigh from Lukas. His counterpart turned and stepped away, Jesse following afterwards. Lukas went to speak again, however the lightest sound of his voice was quickly cut off by an angry Jesse once again.

"Don't say anything, you're an imposter. A fake. Just keep your mouth shut and let us focus on other things."

Lukas squinted slightly and leaned back against the wall. He glanced around the room, searching for anything to help his escape. Orion would be waiting for him, and he didn't want to have to make him come back yet again for another rescue. Seems like their joke was becoming a reality.

Examining the room, he found exactly where the rope had been looped into the wall. Surprisingly, it didn't seem that secure. He could probably tug and undo the knots if he tried hard enough. An easy escape, he caught immediately what was happening.

He glanced back up to the other Lukas, who was standing over by the table surrounded by other agents. They seemed to be planning something, but he couldn’t tell what. That would have to remain a mystery, however he quickly pieced together the situation. He looked exactly like the other Lukas now, possibly with slightly different variations in features, however NEARLY exactly the same. A quick escape from the ropes, out an easy to follow back door.

The old twin trick. Now, he’d never had the luxury of being part of one of these before, but knew what was going to happen. A switch on Orion was the plan, that was obvious, but how to avoid it was the question. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed.

No, that was way too obvious, they’d expect him to try that without even knowing about the idea. They were watching him.

After a bit of thought, he decided he’d play their game. He just had to hope Orion would make the right choice. He trusted him to do so— but Lukas always wearing his mask could mean that he doesn’t know his face well enough to tell them apart. He could use sign? No, his hands were bound still, that would be a bit too difficult to undo.

Guess he’d just have to play and pray that he’s persuasive enough for Orion.

~~~~

“You have sights on him?” Jesse spoke into his earpiece, straying from the current topic of his plan B to check on Gil, who’d been placed as a gunner at the ready.

“Mhm. Sure do. He’s by the docks, just— waiting. He’s in my scope, this is a ridiculously easy shot. I can’t take it now because—?”

“Because if you take out the Leader the rest of them will just continue the plan, it’s like every other organization. We need to figure out how to actually stop them— to do that we need more than just these random journal pages.”

“True,” Gil sighed into the earpiece, “Its so easy though. So so easy..”

“I know, resist the urge, Gil,” Jesse chuckled and tapped his foot almost restlessly, “We’ve got a better plan on hand, and you know what to do if Plan A fails, which hopefully it will not.”

“Yeah yeah I got it, the whole Plan B thing.”

“And your part in Plan A.”

“Of course. This isn’t my area of expertise but— I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You won’t, Gil— Just do your best. If anything goes wrong, this is why we have backup plans.”

“Fair. Alright, well— see you on the flip side, I guess. Wish me luck!”

~~~~

Orion was standing just on the edge of the pier. The hatch of the Ender Dragon could be seen in the distance, out in the harbor. Orion stayed waiting for Lukas, knowing that he may take longer to get around than he did. However, it’d been over thirty minutes. Orion was in the right mind to be worried.

A voice spoke up over his own earpiece.

“Leader?” it was Trevor, dragging out the er at the end of the word in a bit of a concerned whine, “Are you alright up there? It’s been a long time, they’re gonna pick us up on the radar soon if they haven’t yet...”

Orion reached up to the headset and felt for the small button on the side. He pressed in in small beeps and dashes, Morse code.

“— • • — — — — • —

• — — — — — • — • • — • — • — —“

There was a bit of a pause before Trevor replied.

“... Alright, if you insist— At least you replied. Just be safe ok? And alert us when you need pickup.” Trevor sounded unsure, clearly doubting that everything was fine. He always was. Trevor was the brother to worry. It was his way of constantly saying “I love you,” and it was just a little bit of Trevor’s sweetness that Orion really loved.

However he couldn’t focus on it for too long. A glint from a nearby building caught his attention, and quickly took his mind off of anything lighthearted. He was standing out in the open, of course anyone would have a free shot at him, and of course he figured that’s what that exact glint was from. A sniper.

~~~~

"I need the ropes, too?" Lukas grumbled and shifted his wrists against the tight ropes that now binded them.

"Yes, you do," Petra replied with a faint amusement in her voice, "If one Lukas has them, the other Lukas has them."

"God... This is going to be ridiculous. Are you sure this is a good idea, Jesse? I mean-- what if something goes wrong?" Lukas turned to Jesse, who was sat at the table and hunched over a journal of his own.

"Don't worry, Lukas-- Even if something goes wrong, your buddy's got you covered. How's Gil with a sniper?" Jesse replied without looking up. Lukas thought back a bit to his times in the army. HE was the sniper, however Gil was never bad. What did this have to do with--

"Jesse, is he up there?" Lukas asked quickly.

"Maybe~"

"Did you at least test his aim-?"

"I did, not to worry. He's a very good shot, you don't have anything to worry about.." Jesse closed his journal, leaving his opened pen set between the pages before getting up. He stopped in front of Lukas and took both of his hands, them being bound together. "If Plan A fails, then we always have Plan B to fall back on. There's nothing to worry about.."

Lukas sighed and calmed down at Jesse's touch.

"Right... I trust you--.."

"And if Plan B fails?" Riot asked from the opposite end of the table. He had an ice pack on his jaw and was leaning over the table, still clearly a bit disoriented.

"Plan C!"

"And then?"

"Do you really think that I'm that awful at this?"

There was a light snicker in Green's direction, and Jesse huffed in annoyance.

"I'm willing to bet on it."

"Plan,, D, then!"

"Plan D? Might as well throw in a plan F to pay respects and accept the fat fucking L we get served on this mission if Plan C doesn't even fuckin work," Yellow piped up from the ground, his voice a bit raspy bit still getting the point along. There was a sharp laugh from Green that he quickly covered up as Petra looked over.

"Yellow!" There was a chorus of different moods, vaguely apart, when Yellow's voice was heard. Some were laughter, relief, and Jesse was clearly heard with the one dramatically offended tone. Riot was the first to drop down and nearly fall on Yellow in a hug, throwing his ice pack off to the side.

“Good to see you’re awake, man,” Petra shot him a quick grin.

“Glad to be awake.” Yellow felt around his neck after Riot had let go, feeling his throat wrapped in bandages with a couple ice packs pressed against his neck.

“The Leader got you pretty bad— try not to speak too much. Gil told us you were pretty swollen," Lukas said, still uncomfortably shifting in his rope cuffs.

"Mhm. Got that.." Yellow wouldn't admit audibly that every word put him in pain, but that was the truth.

"Rest for a while-- the next whole ordeal won't need us, I'll stay with you." Yellow felt Riot take his hand and give it a light squeeze. He smiled faintly and gave everyone a warning squint before leaning into Riot, who put his arms around him in a gentle hug. Petra grinned at the two, shoving her hands into her pockets.

A sudden clatter came from behind, and Jesse turned quickly to see Green hanging halfway out of the window.

"Oh Jesus, Axel!"

Axel's head shot up from where he was dozing off nearby. Jesse gestured to Green, who slipped out quite noticed.

"Oh uh- He's escaping!! Oh no!!" Axel's cry was half-hearted at most and playful if anything, making Jesse roll his eyes with a smile.

"Alright Lukas, go get him! I'll slow him down, you take the shortcut to the docks," Jesse finished his sentence by giving Lukas a quick kiss and running out the unlocked back door. Lukas couldn't help but smile, even going into this situation. He ran after Jesse, having to shove open the door with his shoulder while his hands were still tied.

The chase didn't last very long, and was a bit uneventful compared to the rest of the last hour. Jesse managed to catch up to Green, slowing him down just enough to where he and Lukas made it to the docks at the same time. The Witherstorm Leader was waiting there, and honestly didn't look too surprised. His arms were crossed and his expression was almost numb. Tired. As though he'd expected this very thing to happen.

~~~~

Lukas made eye contact with Orion quite quickly, and could tell immediately that Orion expected this. Orion's eyes moved between the two men in front of him, and his expression didn't change. Lukas wanted to yell out for him, but outing the Witherstorm Leader's name wouldn't be too smart. He knew there was someone watching them, he wouldn't take that chance.

He still, however, called out for him.

"Leader! Come on, you know the obvious choice, right?" he gestured to himself, not being able to hide his worry. However the other Lukas called out as well, in the exact same tone.

"No, Leader! Look at me! You can tell it's me, right?"

Both of them shot each other a simultaneous glare. Lukas had to admit, his counterpart's acting was on point. He really did look exactly like him, sound exactly like him. It was scary, if anything. Lukas called out again, so did his twin. Orion didn't move at first, just listening to their pleadings turn into arguments. He was less than amused, however soon enough stepped forward and approached them both.

He stepped down off the wooden pier, and each Lukas went quiet. Both had their arms bound, they couldn't use sign. The outfits were the same, both hairdos were messy and difficult to tell apart. The voices and expressions were the same. Determined and pleading.

He stopped in front of the first. He looked him over, watching him take a light step back, before stepping over to the other. He only needed a second before putting a hand on the second's shoulder. Immediately, the other's expression was riddled with what appeared to be heartbreak.

But of course, Orion wasn't done. He knew he had the wrong Lukas, the agent Lukas, the double agent trying to worm his way into the mission. He pulled a dart from his palm, wasting no time before he yanked this Lukas forward and jabbed him in the back of the neck with the needle. He then moved his hand away and kicked the agent back, onto the concrete.

Orion held out his hand to the other Lukas, Green, HIS Lukas. He knew it was him, and the relieved look that lit up across Lukas's face sealed the deal. However, as his Lukas took his hand, a gunshot went off in the distance, and a bullet went clean through Orion's shoulder. Lukas stumbled aside, and Orion only let out a quick grunt before whipping his own pistol from his belt and firing back almost without stopping to aim. A loud cry came from the building the sniper bullet was shot from, and the Lukas on the ground immediately reacted.

His face shifted to pure horror, as he cried the name "Gil" and stumbled to his feet before running off in the direction of the tall building.

Orion watched him go, placing a hand on his already soaked shoulder. He wiped his hand on his pant leg before heading over to Lukas and cutting his hands free from the rope.

"Orion-- you-"

Orion held up a hand to silence him.

"I know, don't worry. It's a clean shot. Easily fixed."

He motioned for Lukas to follow, who nodded and complied. They walked across the long dock together without mentioning much of anything, but as they were waiting, Orion stopped and signed to Lukas.

"You wait here, get on the sub. I will actually be right back this time."

"Dammit Orion, you aren't going back are you-?"

"Your materials and normal clothes are important to you, I presume? Wait here with the sub, I will alert you when I've returned."

Lukas felt a hand over his chest, his heart sinking for moment when he couldn't feel the gemstone necklace around his neck where it should be. He nodded to Orion, watching him turn and leave.

"You be careful! Don't get captured," Lukas called to him, and he waved it off nonchalantly with an assuring grin.

~~~~

Lukas was the first one to burst his way into the empty building. He used a piece of nearby broken glass to cut his own ropes before running up the stairs two at a time. It took nearly ten minutes to get up all of the flights of stairs, but when he finally did, he still was kicking. He showed no exhaustion, and crashed into the room where Gil had made his perch.

Gil was collapsed on his back, already lying in a pool of his own blood. The sniper was thrown to the side, and Gil had his hands clasped tightly around his neck. Lukas ran to him immediately, dropping down beside him and scooping him up.

"Let me see, let me see--" Lukas moved Gil's hands carefully, revealing the deep gash in the right side of Gil's neck. The Leader had managed to hit him, from that distance, with a pistol. Luckily it wasn't a shot, only a deep scrape, but it still wasn't good.

"This can be fixed, don't worry--" Lukas assured him, tugging off his jacket and tearing the sniper neckstrap off to use as a bandage, "You're gonna be fine-- you're fine.."

Lukas pressed the jacket over the wound and used the neckstrap to tighten and hold it against his neck, trying to make it just tight enough that it wasn't choking him. He picked him up, carrying him bridal style with his head against his chest to keep his neck in a comfortable position, and began heading down the stairs this time. He left the sniper rifle itself behind, lying on its side on the concrete ground.

~~~~

Orion's trip didn't take long. It was a simple expedition. The agents were too busy worrying about Gil's arrival to realize that the Witherstorm Leader had snuck back into the warehouse after trying for so long to escape. He simply snatched the neatly folded clothes and left without an issue.

The Ender Dragon was waiting for him by the docks, the hatch open and Ranger waiting at the top of it.

"About time!" he yelled over to his big brother, who rolled his eyes and handed him Lukas's outfit the minute he was close enough. Ranger huffed lightly and climbed down into the sub, followed by Orion.

Ranger handed off the outfit to Lukas, who was pacing worriedly across the sub. When he saw Orion, he gave him a mixture of a concerned yet thankful look.

"You-- went back just for this?" Lukas felt through the clothes until he found the pretty blue necklace, and immediately put it around his neck. He felt much better with it on, yet was hit with a sudden feeling of dread. Orion nodded to him.

"It's important, yeah?"

"Yes.."

"Then we don't leave it behind."

Lukas smiled at the comment, and Orion opened the door to another room, most likely to take care of his own wound.

"Wait, Orion--" Lukas stopped him before he left. Orion halted and turned lightly to look at him.

"How did you know I was the right one?"

At the question, Orion only gave him an almost gentle smile before replying.

"I knew those eyes, L."

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt. 20 - Final)

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and stayed with it since the beginning. This is the final chapter and I would really love to hear your thoughts so please do stop by and say hi. It’s been such a great journey to take with you all xxxx

Mickey is rocking up onto the balls of his feet, trying to peer over the crowd.

“Can you see them yet?”

“No, but they’ll be here.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“Relax.”

Ian squeezes his fingers, their wedding bands clinking together. Mickey is anxiously worrying at the corner of his mouth with his incisors and Ian ducks down to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Mickey jerks his head irritably but stops fidgeting, a little more at ease.

“There! I see them!”

Ian waves and grins as Mickey freezes to the spot.

“Mick, they’re by the Starbucks, just over …”

“Yeah. I see. Do I look OK?”

Mickey is tugging at his collar and looking very much like he is about to be sick. Ian rests his hands lightly on Mickey’s upper arms, smoothing the fabric of his shirt and giving him an earnest smile that calms Mickey’s nerves instantly.

“You look great and this is going to be fine. If he didn’t want to meet you, he wouldn’t be here.”

“What the fuck am I gonna say, man?”

“Start off with ‘Hello’ and take it from there.”

Ian grins, giving Mickey’s arms and encouraging squeeze before letting go and stepping back out of the way. Mickey’s breath catches and stammers out of him as his eyes light on the young man walking towards them, Svetlana at his side. He is taller than Mickey, and a slimmer build.

*More like Ian.*

Mickey thinks automatically before berating himself for being stupid. He has his teeth set firmly in his lower lip and his bright blue eyes are looking Mickey up and down with obvious eager curiosity. There is a slight swagger in his step but it is tempered by the way he hovers at Svetlana’s elbow, not quite bold enough to break away and walk alone.

“He looks just like you, Mick.”

Ian murmurs behind him and Mickey nods, not quite trusting his voice. He realises he is scowling a bit and thumbs his upper lip, making a conscious effort to neutralise his expression.

Ian waits for Mickey to say something, to call out a greeting or wave. When it doesn’t happen he nudges him pointedly and Mickey clears his throat as if waking from a trance.

“Hello!”

The word sounds weird and kind of final and Mickey winces slightly

“Fuck.”

Yevgeny grins, his mother has told him that his father swears almost compulsively and it is nice to have a fact confirmed.

“Hey. So which of you is my dad?”

Mickey looks momentarily at a loss and then Svetlana slaps her son’s shoulder and rolls her eyes

“Ignore him, he is as stupid as his father.”

“Hey!”

Father and son glare at her as one, twin sets of blue eyes narrowing and then widening when they notice the similarity and hastily looking away. Svetlana gives Ian a small knowing smile and they share a look of mutual understanding. Apparently, Yevgeny has inherited his father’s love of new social situations.

Ian decides a small rescue is needed and steps forward, embracing Svetlana and then holding out his hand to Yevgeny.

“It is so good to see you both! Welcome to Mexico!”

“Thanks, it’s Ian, right?”

Yevgeny shakes his hand firmly and Ian gets a tiny thrill of pride

*Mickey made this kid. This sharp, beautiful boy. He’s Mickeys!*

“Yeah, can I take your bag? We parked right out front.”

Ian takes the rucksack from Yev’s hands and the kid immediately stuffs them into his pockets and switches his gaze back to Mickey, although both are doing their best not to appear too interested.

“Shall we go?”

Svetlana hoists her own bag onto her shoulder impatiently.

“I need a cigarette and fresh air.”

“Yeah let’s fuckin’ go.”

Mickey nods and turns on his heel, grabbing Yev’s backpack from Ian and holding it protectively as he leads the way.

“I must sit in the front, my travel sickness is very bad.”

Svetlana announces as they are loading the bags into the trunk of Ian’s old Ford. Yev shrugs and gets into the back of the car, closing the door behind him.

“I’ll drive.”

“What? No! Talk to your kid!”

“I can’t talk to him for that long! Jesus! I can’t even talk to you for that long!”

Mickey whispers furiously, looking up at Ian with wild, pleading eyes and Ian sighs in exasperation but quietly hands the car keys over.

*

Ian chats away happily as they make their way home. He fills Yevgeny and Svetlana in on local sites and local facts and makes Mickey stop to show them an old fountain outside a church that was apparently blessed by a saint.

Mickey leans against the car door and lights up a cigarette as Ian drags Svetlana closer to look at the inscription but Yev manages to dodge around a pale palm tree and loop back to the car before Ian can snag him.

“Can I bum a cigarette?”

He asks Mickey, looking up from under lowered brows, his voice unnaturally deep as he tries to be what he thinks his father will want a son to be.

“You smoke?”

“Psshh. Yeah! All the time. I fuckin’ love it.”

Yev licks his lip and stands up a little straighter. Mickey smirks slightly and nods to Svetlana

“Your Mom gonna tear me a new one if she sees you doin’ it?”

“Nah, man. She just has to deal.”

Yev puffs his chest out and mirrors Mickey’s posture, holding out his hand for the packet. Mickey snorts and hands it over, watching as Yev fumbles the lighter but finally manages to get it lit and inhales enthusiastically before doubling over coughing. Mickey grins to himself and claps a hand on Yevgeny’s shoulder, as the boy looks up utterly humiliated. Mickey hasn’t forgotten how fragile the ego is at sixteen, nor has he forgotten just how desperate he was to please Terry at every turn.

“Don’t worry about it, Mexican cigarettes are stronger. I should’ve warned you.”

“Oh. Yeah. No it’s cool. Thanks.”

Yev is blushing furiously and Mickey tries to think of a point of reference that they might share. He nods his head toward Ian and Svetlana

“You into history at all? Ian likes it.”

“Nah. What are you into?”

Mickey thinks for a moment. He can’t really say cigarettes, guns, pot, beer and sex. Well … maybe he could but he doesn’t want to. He tries to think of something Yev might approve of.

“I got a canoe a couple years ago, I like to take that out on the ocean.”

“Cool!”

Yev nods enthusiastically and Mickey grins, then clicks his head left and right, noticing with a faint touch of pride that Yev does the same. He begins to wonder if having a kid is really just like having a big puppy that follows you around adoringly and occasionally shits on the rug.

“I went on a boat once, it wasn’t a canoe but it was cool.”

“Cooler than a fuckin’ fountain?”

Mickey arches his eyebrows and nods toward Ian who is in full flow and Svetlana who looks bored to tears. Yev grins shyly and shrugs, scratching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, like, no offence to your husband though.”

“Ah, none taken, man. He’s not normally this much of a dork, just really excited to see you I think.”

“Yeah?”

Yev looks suddenly hopeful and Mickey isn’t sure why so he hedges his bets and changes the subject

“Doin’ good in school?”

“I guess. Mom writes you though, right? Tells you about school and stuff? She said she did that…”

“Oh yeah, I mean she does, I was just … I dunno. Just askin’ I guess.”

Mickey draws deeply on his cigarette and looks away and Yev mistakes his discomfort for annoyance

“You can ask! I mean, you paid for, like, more than half of it right? Mom says you always send money…”

Put like that Mickey realises just how flimsy his involvement has been and clears his throat self-consciously.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you by the way. You didn’t have to.”

Mickey has no idea what to do with being thanked for that and awkwardly pats Yevgeny’s shoulder, giving him a small smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The two stand in silence then until Ian finally releases Svetlana and they all resume their journey.

*

Evidently Yevgeny is feeling a little emboldened by having his first proper (sort of) conversation with his father because he is more chatty on the second leg of the journey. Ian can’t get enough of hearing the kid talk. He sounds just like Mickey! They both grew up in South Side so the inflections are the same but it’s more than that. Listening to Yev speak is like hearing Mickey as a teenager but with less threats and swearing. If Mickey had been into football and playing piano (fucking piano! Ian squeals internally) he would have sounded just like this.

“I prefer to compose my own stuff now, ya know? I mean, playing other people’s stuff is great but it is awesome to hear something you’ve imagined coming to life. Do you guys play any instruments?”

Mickey peers at Yev in the mirror and shakes his head

“A little guitar maybe but I suck. Never had the patience to learn.”

“None at all.”

Ian smiles guiltily at Yev, who shrugs and smiles.

“Mom wasn’t sure who I got my music talent from.”

“Not true, all your fine qualities come from me.”

Svetlana laughs, nudging Mickey with her elbow. Mickey tongues his lip and grins at her

“Hey, I changed a few diapers, that probably had positive impact, right?”

“Me too actually!”

Ian pipes up.

“So everyone in this car has seen my ass?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

Ian nods cheerfully and Yev sighs, a very familiar long-suffering sigh, blue eyes rolling wearily.

“Great.”

*

Yevgeny nods off about thirty minutes away from Galagers. Mickey checks in the mirror a couple of times, checking the gentle rise and fall of his sons chest.

“Anything I should keep my mouth shut about?”

He asks, looking pointedly at Svetlana. She shrugs and shakes her head

“He knows all there is to know.”

“Could you be a bit more fuckin’ specific?”

Mickey snaps irritably and Svetlana blinks languidly at him.

“He knows he is the product of unwanted sex between his homosexual father and hooker mother, forced by his paternal grandfather who has spent most of his life in prison. He knows his father is a fugitive who married the man who kidnapped him as a baby and lives in Mexico. He knows to keep his mouth shut about these things as well.”

Svetlana ducks her head, lighting a cigarette and then narrows her eyes at the dawning look of incredulous horror Mickey is giving her

“What?”

“ ‘What’? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Those are fuckin horrible things for the kid to know!”

Mickey turns to look at Ian for reassurance and Ian nods grimly

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up, Svet.”

“What part of it is untrue?”

She snaps back at both men and Mickey frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“None of it but, you know, I don’t want him thinkin’ he’s a rape baby. That’s a heavy thing for a kid his age to find out.”

“He has known since he was eight.”

“EIGHT?”

Mickey and Ian cry in unison and Svetlana shrugs a little defensively

“He asked why his father never calls or visits. What would you have rather I told him?”

“That I’m a fuckin’ asshole not worth his time! Jesus, Svetlana. Hey, did you let him believe in Santa or did you just slice that one right off the bat too?”

Mickey shakes his head angrily and Svetlana sighs heavily.

“Of course we had Santa, Idiot! But truth is important for children. Yevgeny is a sensitive boy, it is important for him to understand his existence.”

“It’s fucked up, that’s what it is.”

Mickey huffs and turns his attention completely to the road. Ian takes in the tense set of his husband’s shoulders and clears his throat tentatively.

“Perhaps it is good that he knows the truth. Means he gets it, Mick.”

Mickey grunts in response and the three of them lapse into silence.

“I’m sorry if it makes you angry. I thought it for the best.”

Svetlana ventures finally and Mickey flicks his eyes towards her, scanning for sarcasm and finding none.

“It’s fine. It sucks but yeah … it is the truth and … he seems happy enough.”

It is a question but he won’t allow himself to phrase it like one, just in case the answer is not what he desperately hopes to hear.

“He has always been a very happy boy. He wanted for nothing and grew up loved.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders and then sighs

“Well then… thank you, I guess.”

“Life is funny, yes?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hilarious.”

Mickey says dryly and Ian smiles slightly as Svetlana gives Mickey’s arm a very light squeeze.

*

For the first week, Yevgeny follows Mickey around constantly. He helps stock the bar, he goes to the store, he is into everything Mickey does and in turn Mickey swallows his natural inclination toward running errands in solitude and does his best to embrace Yev’s interest.

He takes Yev out in the canoe and after basically wrestling the kid into a life preserver, allows him to take it out by himself a few times, though he paces the shore anxiously each time until Yev is safely back.

Yev shadows him so faithfully that Mickey get’s kind of used to it so when Yev doesn’t appear one morning to drive into town, Mickey is a little disappointed. Not surprised, because getting booze and groceries with your dad can only be interesting for so long, right? But still, he has come to value the quiet thirty minute round trip and the easy flow of conversation.

He figures Yev must have gone down to the beach early because he isn’t on the sofa bed and Mickey runs the errand on his own. When he gets back, Svet has gone shopping in town and Ian is in the kitchen making coffee.

“You seen Yev?”

“No, we thought he was with you?”

“Nah. He never showed up.”

Mickey frowns and drums his fingers against his leg, instantly worried. Ian shrugs and smiles, handing Mickey a steaming mug.

“Probably just gone for a wander.”

“Yeah. Hey, the canoe ain’t on the porch, did you store it?”

“No. But that probably answers where Yev is.”

Ian’s cheery lack of concern grates on Mickey’s nerves and he scowls at his husband.

“Well he ain’t supposed to go out without telling me. What if a fuckin’ freak wave catches him?”

“Oh, you mean like all those ‘freak waves’ that we get warned about around here? Relax. He’s fine.”

Ian smirks and Mickey shoots him a withering look

“A freak wave would be a fuckin’ random occurrence, smart ass.”

“Maybe Yev put it away for you? Have you checked the lock-up?”

Mickey admits he hasn’t and Ian ruffles his hair affectionately, ignoring the impatient flapping as Mickey shoos him away

“I like seeing you in protective dad mode, it’s kinda hot.”

“I’m not in … shut the fuck up!”

Mickey allows a small grin to curl the corner of his mouth and takes his coffee and dignity outside, Ian trailing in his wake as he strides around the back of Galagers.

“So if the canoe is in there, are we going to calm down or shall we call the coast guard?”

Ian teases and Mickey is about to retort but a sound catches his attention and he holds up a stilling hand, setting his coffee cup on the ground. There is a muffled thumping coming from the lock-up and what sounds like crying.

Ian clearly hears it to because his eyes narrow and he grabs a plank of drift wood at his feet, nodding to Mickey. Mickey nods back and makes a ‘wait here’ gesture as he takes a firm grip on the door. One … two … three …

Mickey wrenches the door open ready to start swinging fists at the same moment as Ian lunges forward, plank of wood held high. There is a flash of dark skinned calve wrapped around a pale ass and then two high, guilty gasps of shock as the couple roll apart and hastily adjust their dishevelled clothing, scrabbling to their feet as the adults stare at them in horrified amusement.

“Hey Dad! Uh...”

Yevgeny gives his father a wonky smile as colour floods his face and he glances sideways at Christina, who is grimacing back at him.

Mickey glances down between the young couple and his eyebrows, which had shot up to his hairline, lower as he throws out his hands in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture

“Oh come on, man! On my fuckin’ canoe?”

“Sorry.”

Yev hunches his shoulders defensively. For a moment there is silence and then a strangled snort to Mickey’s right cuts through the air. Ian’s whole body is vibrating with suppressed laughter, his chin quivering helplessly.

“Really? You can’t hold your shit together for two fuckin’ minutes and be a grown up?”

Mickey looks up at him, shaking his head in exasperation but his own lip is trembling precariously. Christina grabs Yev’s hand and tugs him forward

“We’ll go ...”

“Oh really, Tina? You don’t wanna finish?”

Mickey quips but there is no heat to his words at all and he is rapidly losing the battle against his laughter.

“Um… No. It’s okay. We can go somewhere else.”

Yev mumbles and as Christina slaps her boyfriends arm, Ian loses his shit completely, doubling over and clutching his middle as he laughs.

“Oh Yev! Oh my God! No paternity test is ever going to be needed, kid. Oh my God!”

Mickey rolls his eyes at his husband before pointing a finger at his son

“I want it spotless in here, and learn to lock the fuckin’ door.”

He catches Ian by the collar and tugs him out

“Hey! Be safe! Condoms are in the bathr...”

“Not now!”

Mickey snaps at his husband, kicking the door shut behind them. Yev and Christina grin guiltily at each other and then have to smother laughs of their own as Ian happily asks when could possibly be a better time.

*

Mickey is scrolling through his phone on the porch a little while later and he glances up at the sound of footsteps.

“Hey.”

Yev approaches Mickey sheepishly, not sure whether he is actually in trouble or not.

“Hey. You walk Tina home?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, it’s the middle of the day but yeah, I did.”

“Good. She’s a nice girl. You treat her right, you hear me?”

Mickey fixes Yev with a stern blue eyed stare but his expression clears as soon as the boy nods.

“Alright.”

Yev scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and takes a deep breath

“You can yell if you want? I fucked up.”

“Nah, you’re fine. My dad caught me fuckin’ someone once, it happens.”

Mickey shrugs and Yev grins at him

“Yeah look how that ended up.”

He gestures at himself and Mickey snorts, amused. It’s a lame joke and kind of distasteful but that’s Mickey’s sense of humour too so how can he blame Yevgeny for having it?

“True.”

They are quiet for a minute and then Mickey coughs and ducks his head, looking up at his son from beneath gently swept brows. He has been thinking about when he would say something since Svetlana told him about Yevgeny’s knowledge of his conception and now seems as good a time as any.

“Hey listen, I … ah … I know you know how all that shit when down, how me and your Mom … anywya you know your Mom loves you?”

Yevgeny nods, his eyes huge and round, waiting for his father to continue.

“Well I want you to know that I love you too. If things had been different, I would have stuck around, Yevgeny. I would have been there. I never held any of that shit against you. You’re the one good thing to come out of it and I’m really glad you’re here. Me and Ian both are. I shouldn’t have left it so long.”

Mickey finishes and straightens to his full height waiting patiently for whatever Yevgeny might want to get off his chest. He owes him that much.

“Thank you but it’s fine. I’m here now and you and Ian are both being really cool to me. And I am sorry I had sex on the canoe.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey laughs as both of them grin, the tension draining from the atmosphere to be replaced with an easy companionship that is more than Mickey had ever dared hope for.

*

Yevgeny visits most school breaks and after high school he arrives in a battered old pick up to collect Christina for a tour of the USA, with a ring in his top pocket and a smile that melts Ian’s heart. He is young, beautiful and full of determined courage. Mickey hugs his son tightly and then steps back to let Ian in.

“I’m doing it, guys! I’m gonna ask her.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah Dad. I’m gonna wait until we get to New York and then I’m doing it.”

“Alright.”

Mickey nods and nudges Ian who slips Yev an envelope. Yev frowns and peers inside

“Guys, this is too much!”

“It’s a border crossing tradition in this family. When you start a new life, you get a wad of cash.”

Mickey grins and Ian shakes his head with a long suffering sigh, though a small smile is tugging at the corner of his own mouth.

*

Time winds onwards and soon Svetlana is stood in a beautiful Mexican church, cradling baby Miguel in her arms, utterly besotted with her first grandson.

“Ah! We have another set of those blue eyes in the world.”

She coos happily, glancing at her own blue eyed boy who is deep conversation with his aunt and uncle who have come to the church for the celebration.

“Yeah, he’s beautiful isn’t he?”

Ian smiles indulgently down at his grandson and carefully traces one chubby pink cheek with his finger. Yev makes his way over to them, looking at his watch.

“Do you think we should start? The priest is getting antsy”

“No, we must wait for your father.”

“Or what? It didn’t happen?”

Yev quips irritably, oblivious to the startle his words give his mother. Svetlana smothers her smile in the sweet smelling lace of Miguel’s gown.

The church doors open and all present turn to watch Mickey dash up the flagstones, waving his apologies

“Sorry! I had to pick something up.”

He takes the steps up to the font two at a time and produces a sleek box from his pants pocket, handing it to Yevgeny with another grimaced apology and then taking his place beside Ian and Svetlana who jabs him and whispers.

“Do you enjoy being late to christenings or is it just habit?”

“You always ask the weirdest fuckin’ questions.”

Mickey frowns as she happily passes his name sake into his arms. Mickey jiggles his grandson, looking down at him with a mixture of awe and pride.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he? I mean, I know I’m supposed to think that, but look at him!”

Ian kisses the greying hair at Mickey’s temple and nods

“He is. Milkovich’s make very pretty babies.”

Mickey smirks and hands Miguel over to Christina.

“Thanks Dad, and thank you both for the gift.”

She kisses his cheek gratefully and Mickey nods, blushing a little.

“You’re welcome.”

The ceremony is held in the same church as Mandy and Juan married in all those years before and Mickey and Ian take the same seats, their hands linked just as tightly.

The future which has always stretched so far before them zooms into focus and then expands beyond them, the legacy of their love carried on the lips and in the memories of their family.

They walk home from the ceremony, pausing to kick off their shoes when they reach the beach and strolling across the warm sand barefoot, hand in hand. They have walked home this way for nearly twenty years and despite being careful, there is still sand in their shoes at the end of every trip. Neither of them mind and neither could be happier.

[otp-bumbleby]

Do you hear that? Bzz bzz. It’s the sound of another Bumbleby reasoning post! I’m focusing on coincidences, similarities, and links. And a whole lot of everything. Bonus points for being a bee shipper true and true.

I’m warning you now, this is like over three fuckin thousand words long plus pictures. Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay, go!

Okay so look

Is this purely coincidence?

Their outfit’s accent colours yes I count a robotic arm and makeup as accent colour ok:

Are each other’s eye colours:

Right, right. Everyone knew that!

So…

“Yang has two eye colours!” I hear from the back.

Well my friend, what colour is that? Red you say? What colour was Blake’s ex-partner’s accent colour? OH THAT’S RIGHT, red!

Her ex-partner? Argued to be the beast to Blake’s beauty in her Beauty and the Beast story.

Except: Blake has definitively left him behind. Before the show even begins, she abandons him after realising that he had become somebody she didn’t recognise. She said it herself in ‘Mountain Glenn’:

“When I realised my oldest partner had become a monster, I ran.”

So, Blake’s a lone beauty. Hold up! Not really.

Enter Yang!

In the Yellow trailer, we see Yang using her good looks and charm to mess with Junior. Yet underneath this exterior, we see a raging monster burning with rage. Literally. She’s on fire.

Hell is unleased upon Junior’s henchmen, the Malachite twins, and his club.

Then, Yang loses it when Junior pulls out some of her hair; her eyes turn red, she finishes him off with a devastating right hook to his face and he flies out the window like a chump.

Did I mention she was a raging beast? That’s how Yang fights. Her semblance allows for this. Energy-absorption; which she stores and uses against opponents. It is a little unclear the details of it, as she often just becomes angry and her eyes turn red and boom.

Like at initiation, where an Ursa cuts a little bit of her hair – she goes on a one-woman rampage before Blake cuts in and finishes the fight off.

And it feels like nay a moment passes before she’s angry again; with Nora riding in on an Ursa and Pyrrha running towards them with a Deathstalker on her tail. Yang wants two seconds of peace before something crazy happens again but ya know, that’s impossible.

Or when RWBY fights the Paladin that contains Roman; Yang is smashed through a highway pillar, comes out strong enough to stop the giant robot hitting her in its tracks, and executes a one punch hit that destroys it (with Blake’s help of course).

Let’s not forget the well-discussed scene in ‘Burning the Candle’; she is angry outside of battle when Blake is running herself into the ground over the dangers of the White Fang and Torchwick. Blake refuses to listen to her, and she even goes as far as physically shoving Blake to get the point across that she’s too far gone. Also, “coming out” is mentioned.

And in ‘Never Miss a Beat’ we have Neon Katt aggravating Yang by taunting her with jabs at her obvious bust size and boiling rage as a consequence. Here, Weiss and Yang had trouble with the opponents they faced off against. Weiss was defeated by Flynt, and Yang couldn’t hit Neon. Yang trumped Flynt (get it? That’s not a Trump joke, by the way), and Neon literally tripped up to give Yang the easy win.

Then things start to go wrong, big time. In ‘Fall’, it looks like Yang’s finally shown how much of a Beast she can be. In the 1v1 versus Mercury, she taps into her semblance at a very low aura level (16!) after he unleashes some sort of super barrage of bullets. She punches her way to a win – even though we can’t be sure if Mercury deliberately lost, or went into the fight not expecting he would lose without throwing the match. But he loses, as is crucial to Cinder’s plans.

And in typical Yang fashion, she hits Mercury first, and asks questions later, when she sees - what is Emerald’s illusion – him trying to attack her after the fight is finished. The whole world watching sees Yang break an innocent kid’s leg, after she defeated him.

Those watching thinks that she is a ruthless, violent, monster. An interesting parallel to say the least. Blake, a Faunus, judged because of something she cannot change. Yang, judged because she was tricked.

They share a sad truth – the world doesn't like them.

Not to mention, once again, Blake’s partner has become what she fears most.

(If only she had seen Cinder, Mercury and Emerald when they visited Adam while she was still with him; this might have been avoided! But, plot)

But we have Yang trying to convince her team she saw Mercury attack first – Ruby and Weiss easily believe her. Blake has trouble because, “this is all just very familiar”.

“But you’re not him.”

So, Blake chooses to trust Yang. She does not see her as the Beast.

Thus far, Yang has won almost every fight we’ve seen using her semblance. Her semblance is dangerous. She takes hits and deals them back at twice the power. But to take hits, is to take damage. She’s not invincible.

Yeah, let’s touch on the even more discussed scene in ‘Heroes and Monsters’.

After dealing out some physical abuse to Blake, Adam Taurus, mister Blake’s ex-partner, delivers this chilling threat:

“I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love,”

“starting with her.”

Aaaaaaaaaand Adam stabs Blake to bait Yang, Blake pleads to deaf ears for Yang to not do the thing; Yang charges in eyes red fists blazing and does the thing anyway (say that to the tune of Vanessa Carlton’s ‘A Thousand Miles’) and her arm is dismembered for her effort. Blake knew she’d do that, and she knew Adam would hurt Yang just to punish her.

Suddenly, Yang has become the victim, and she’s become the victim because of Blake’s past betrayal of Adam. Not to say it’s Blake’s fault – it’s not – but it is to say that Blake believes it’s her fault and she totally feels guilty.

No longer is Blake Beauty; she’s become the Beast that has brought this misfortune upon her friend.

What’s my point in all this? That they fit together in the basis of Beauty and the Beast. Not just that Blake is Beauty, and Yang is the Beast, but they both fit both roles.

This one’s a bit more symbolic:

The song ‘Red Like Roses’, which plays during the Red trailer, describes each colour (and thus also each member) of team RWBY.

Red ‘like roses’; White ‘is cold and always yearning’. Ruby’s surname is Rose; Weiss comes across as cold, but obviously has deeper reasons for this.

But the point lies in the next two lines.

Black ‘the beast descends from shadows’; Yellow ‘beauty burns gold’.

So, Black is the beast here. During the Black trailer, the song ‘From Shadows’ plays, which is the ‘theme song’.

Blake is Black – the beast descending from shadows.

Yang’s colour is Yellow (or, gold, same thing yo).

Yellow Beauty burns gold – the song that plays during the Yellow trailer is ‘I Burn’ - well, the remix. Which consists of excerpts of ‘Red Like Roses’, ‘Mirror Mirror’, ‘From Shadows’, and finishes with ‘I Burn’. But it’s still ‘I Burn’.

The text that prefaces the Yellow trailer reads:

A spark becomes a flame in most cases, and again we have the motif of burning fire and beauty associated with Yang.

Because let’s face it. Typically, Yang is beautiful. I don’t have to explain this one. Her symbol is a burning heart. Hot and…hot. Two kinds of hot.

Blake is her beast, the Faunus that the world thinks ill of. The Faunus that was part of the White Fang. The Faunus once partnered with the dude that cut off her arm.

I feel like I’ve made the Beauty and the Beast argument here, not to mention it’s been made a lot already. These are all details; big and small; obvious and subtle, that surely cannot be coincidental. (SURELY????)

Now, I gotta take a small thing from the Yellow trailer’s preface text, this discussion’s not really that significant, but I had to do it anyway.

“Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical” and “misshapen spark”.

The public wants symmetry – but we have Yang, that shows off anything but symmetry. She must be that misshapen spark. (FORESHADOWING!! WHY MONTY?!)

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LET’S PLAY!: spot the asymmetries!

Obviously, Yang’s arms are technically are asymmetrical now. That one’s a given!

But, let’s take a look at Yang’s original outfit, y’all:

Her symbol is on her left breast; it is a heart after all!

That belt, girl! Satchels on the left, a bit of fabric over the top on the right. Burning heart on the right, as well. Even a bit of fabric that I don’t know what to call that tapers off to one side only.

Then you got them socks. The left one is above the knee, and the right is below. And a piece of purple fabric peeking outta the left boot for good measure.

Then we have the Hunter outfit featured in ‘Painting the Town’:

It’s a little less prominent in this outfit, but we have an overcoat that crosses over the torso, rather than doing up right in the centre. This one even tapers off to her left hip at the hem!

She’s also got another belt with a satchel just on her left side.

Then that piece of purple whatever the heck it is attached to her left hip. This one’s all left (insert arm joke here).

A little observation of her ‘don’t give a shit’ outfit:

 Ya gotta notice the sleeves being different lengths accommodating the loss of her right forearm.

The left sleeve bears her father’s emblem.

There is an extra pocket on her right thigh, above her emblem. A little Grimm patch is on her right hip too.

Her current outfit which debuted in ‘No Safe Haven’ combines a little of everything to me. It’s hard to get a good look at every angle with what little we’ve been given, though:

Ditching the scarf, Yang’s now got a collar that buckles up on the right.

It looks like her overcoat/vest zips up on her right side, that opens across her chest diagonally. It’s not in the center to me, at least.

I can see her belt has brown fabric attached to it, and on her left hip the fabric folds over the belt and reaches around to the back.

The purple fabric is back at it again on her left knee!

Never symmetrical.

Who else has got some asymmetries in their outfits? (EVERYBODY, I HEAR YOU SAY?)

Yeah, there’s something odd in everyone’s outfits. But if we look at team RWBY, it’s most prominent in Yang’s, and then Blake’s.

Blake’s original outfit:

She’s only got one asymmetry, which is fairly obvious. There is a long black sleeve she wears on her left arm.

The ribbons on each wrist only differ slightly, and I mean slightly, I barely count that.

Her intruder outfit, that’s almost completely symmetrical:

There’s one oddity on her belt – a satchel on the left hip.

The belt itself is a little lopsided.

There’s also a similarity here though, one of those fabric skirt things that I still don’t have a name for!

Blake’s current outfit has a little more asymmetry than the rest:

There’s a strap that she uses to carry Gambol Shroud. This goes over her right shoulder, rather than the pack she used to have on her back.

Then her belt, yet again, has a satchel on the left hip.

And on her boots (the longest boots probably in existence or they’re just accessories I really can’t tell I’ve tried to see if they’re not actually all boots and still am undecided), there’s another strap on her left thigh.

And I also note here that Blake’s got some major coattails going on too. Another similarity!

I hear you though, “THAT AIN’T SHIT”

Yeah, you right, the outfits aren’t such a big overlap. But that’s where they fit in the flow of this post; I still find that the outfits play a part, however small, in all this.

There are a lot less asymmetrical features in Ruby’s and Weiss’s outfits overall. Combat skirts, y’all!

But I suppose we need a bigger link between these two for this to seem worth it. I’ve seen plenty of arguments against why these two shouldn’t be together.

Recently, I saw something that went along the lines of the main character’s stories don’t have to focus on romance; a sub-plot is okay, but to say that their stories are so definitively focused on a romance between them isn’t right (okay that’s probably really inaccurate but it’s close enough to the point).

Except I think that’s kind of a lame argument. I don’t think this story focuses on romance between them. It focuses on all the things that are similar, or are a link between them, or how they balance each other out enough for it to seem part of the story without taking away from it.

Blake’s main flaw is that she runs away. She ran from her parents when her father stepped down as leader of the White Fang. She ran off with Adam to try and fight for the Faunus’ cause, but eventually she ran away from him when she couldn’t face what he had become. When Blake let slip she was a Faunus, she ran because she didn’t know how to deal with the reaction from her team. When Adam cut off Yang’s arm, Blake ran in fear that he’d come back to finish the job and then some if she stayed.

Her semblance, as Blake so eloquently described:

“I was born with the ability to leave behind a shadow of myself, an empty copy that takes the hit while I run away.”

I felt the way she says this makes it seem that she’s almost ashamed of this, like she’s enabling herself and this is a defect that allows cowardice.

In her face-off with Adam in ‘Heroes and Monsters’, he begins by criticising this as she looks fearful at the sight of him,

“Running away again? Is that what you’ve become my love? A coward?”

Blake fends him off a wounded student, angrily stating,

“I’m not running!”

His response,

“You will.”

And she does.

This fault of character is “coincidentally” what Yang has the biggest issue with in life!

Yang’s birth mother, Raven, abandoning her – she left without giving Yang a chance to stop her. Yang was a baby; she couldn’t stop her as a newborn infant, but she’s still asking the question of why.

Summer Rose, however unintentionally, left her as well.

Her father was devastated by this, and so he mentally checked out of life for a while and the parental role in her own and Ruby’s life fell to Yang.

Yet Yang’s search for Raven is the purpose of her visit to Junior in the Yellow trailer. She’s still searching for answers as the show progresses.

Yang explains to Blake the story of Summer Rose’s and her real mother’s disappearances, she describes that when she was a young child, she almost got herself and Ruby killed trying to follow a clue,

“My stubbornness should have gotten us killed that night.”

In the moment, that line is to reason that Blake is exhausting herself to the point where, if she had to fight, she would die. Just like Yang did as a child searching for her mother.

Yet it looks like it could have been more foreshadowing. Yang’s stubbornness is a part of why she relies on her semblance in fights. That’s just the way she does it.

When Adam cut her arm off, he was going to kill her. She was defenseless! Her stubbornness should have gotten her killed. But once again, someone swoops in to save her – this time, it’s Blake.

Yes, she wouldn’t have been in that situation if it weren't for wanting to help Blake. But she wouldn’t have been in that situation as well if she tactfully approached fights. (ADAM WOULD HAVE SLAYED HER ANYWAY. PROBS.)

Blake knows Yang has an issue with abandonment. Yang knows Blake tends to run. And here they run into an issue, because Blake runs from Yang, and Yang is angry that she ran. It’s like star-crossed lovers or some shit!

In ‘End of the Beginning’, Ruby and Yang have a little catch up when Ruby wakes up. Yang tells her that Blake ran, and Ruby questions why.

You hear how devastated Yang sounds when she says,

“I don’t know,”.

She looks like she’s about to cry, actually. Remember the last time she cried?  When she was afraid Blake didn’t trust her? Yeah…

Anyway, Yang then stops herself. She becomes bitter and claims,

“and I don’t care.”

Poor, innocent, sweet, naïve Ruby says there has to be a reason why Blake left.

“No there doesn’t. Sometimes bad things just happen, Ruby.”

Yang’s resigned herself to be somebody people just leave. For no reason. And she’s upset.

I mean, we’re all like 1000% sure that Yang totally cares why Blake left. She just can’t admit that she cares that she’s been abandoned. Again. Did you hear ‘Armed and Ready’? I think Yang cares. (I’ve written care so much it doesn’t look like a real word anymore)

IS THIS ALL JUST A COINCIDENCE? (IS THIS THE REAL LIFE, IS THIS JUST FANTASY? CAUGHT IN A LANDSLIDE, NO ESCAPE FROM REALITY, OPEN YOUR EYES, LOOK UP TO THE SKIES AND SEE. I’M JUST A POOR BEE, I NEED NO SYMPATHY.)

Is it just a fucking coincidence that Blake runs and Yang is run from? (Better fuckin not be)

This isn’t a focus on building a romance story between them. It is crucial to their character building. This is building the foundations for the fuckin plot. The core of their characters, yada yada.

Their team is split apart. How will they become team RWBY again if they don’t sort this out? They’re going to have to sooner or later. The show is literally called RWBY.

They’re gonna have to address the Goliath in the room. Yang lost her arm to protect Blake. I think there’s gonna have to be some “you leaving hurt me more that losing a stupid arm” talk. Sun already said the whole, “you pushing us out hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us” line, and he makes a lot of sense! Blake seemed to have a good reaction to that. And Yang’s talked sense into Blake before, and I can see that happening again, since Blake’s all guilty about her.

She hopes that her team hates her for leaving, so that she has an excuse to stay away, even though she misses them. That’s guilt.

She wants to deal with the consequences of her choices, apparently. Sun tells her she can’t make the choices for her friends.

Because that’s the exact same way that Raven left Yang. Without giving her a choice. Blake left before Yang even had the chance to ask her to stay! I bet Yang’s sick of that, huh?

Remember when Blake said,

“They were my friends. I loved them like I never thought I could love anybody.”

(Cue the tears. Arryn did such a good job VA in V4).

Blake’s gonna go back to them. It’s just a matter of time.

Ahhhh. What was my point again? I’m so caught up (USHER!) in all this analysis of things that my brain is just overloading. Every day, I think of something else. I really tried to consolidate my thoughts on the topic for real, just so I could get a new perspective and see if I make any sense.

There’s been so many sneaky hints in this show. So many.

Which is why we all kind of freaked out when Yang left Patch and went on that fuckin boat:

THAT. FUCKIN. GAY. BOAT.

Because it had to be the same boat Blake traveled on, didn’t it?

TELL ME IT’S NOT (BUT DON’T. I KNOW IT’S THE SAME BOAT. THIS ISN’T SOME TITANIC CONSPIRACY THEORY).

YOU HAD TO DO THIS TO US, DIDN’T YOU, CRWBY?

This post is a mess and so am I!

After all this talking, I gotta leave my real opinion here.

I just happen to think that this all makes a pretty good reason for a realistic situation where they realise that Blake found someone she does not want to run from, and Yang has someone that she really doesn’t want to lose.

Then you factor in things like they level each other out; Blake is mellow and Yang is boisterous; Blake is reserved and Yang is an open book (thank you Arryn for pointing that one out [RWBY ladies podcast from yonder years ago]); Blake’s dry sarcasm and Yang’s bad jokes; black and yellow is a good colour combination; “I love it when you’re feisty!”; *insert your favourite bee moments here*; etc.

Maybe it won’t turn into a romantic relationship, but the possibility is there.

I mean, you don’t have to want it, but you don’t need to be negative about it. If you don’t like a ship, just ignore us that do. I ignore all those people that argue for a ship I don’t see happening, because who am I to go there and crush all the things they believe in? Did we notice how I did nothing but talk about Bumbleby here? No other mention of any other ship. No hate. Just love.

People write these posts to give insight as to why they enjoy and choose a ship. Not so they can be pulled down and ridiculed; I don’t come on here trying to find common ground with people and celebrating a possibility that two badass chicks might be a little bit gay for each other.

You celebrate your ships, I’ll celebrate mine. And we can all bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone can eat and be happy, no matter what happens.

I just have a lot of feelings.

(Okay, go home.)