#it took you 3 movies ??? to give him any semblance of a personality??

[sciderman]

I figured it out

Tom Holland's Peter Parker (No hate to Mr Holland though) has NO SASS

That's the issue, he's not a smartass or a smart idiot. He is just,,,, adorkable

oh man. disney kind of has a real compulsive problem with making everything adorkable . thats kind of their thing. like every Disney princess to get a movie in the past decade . do they have a unique personality to their own? absolutely not at all. are they adorkable? oh you bet. they are SO inoffensive and they’re gonna sell SO many toys. just like spider-man. they disney-princess-ified him. they did the disney princess thing to him. I think you could swap him with anna, or rapunzel, or moana and you probably wouldn’t even notice the difference, narratively, because they would all act the same and do the same thing. and be adorkable while doing it.

[ephemerlskies]

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold. 

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back. 

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire. 

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound. 

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay. 

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but  stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override. 

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried. 

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him. 

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Five

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P this chapter has more shit in it lol

-> Word Count: 2.9k

-> Warnings: blood, violence, guns, descriptive shit abt the infected peeps

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

Hades whined. He never whined much but he sensed it. Y/n couldn’t look back. The sickening feeling that was creeping around inside of her grew with every step she took. The cabin was a parent, a hug, a haven. It was the only thing she had from before. Turning her back on it felt like hurting herself. Every step she took was a betrayal to her soul.

“We’ll come back Y/n.”

Y/n looked over at Mina. She wanted to scratch her eyes out and roast her flesh over a spit. Y/n knew her face expressed that. She knew because of the way Mina winced when she met her eyes. Hades rubbed against Y/n’s side, his back up to her hip bones. She rested her fingers in his coat. She lightly gripped his fur, as if holding onto him would ground her and she would get back to her semblance of her safety.

Fingers brushed her arm and then squeezed and suddenly Y/n is pulled back into an embrace. She wanted to fight against it but the warmth overwhelmed her. She couldn’t fight her tears and Kirishima at the same time so she just let him hug her.

“Y/n we’ll come back one day. We didn’t hide all that food for nothing. It and the wood and the supplies will be here when we come back.”

Y/n pushed his body away and craned her neck to look up into his dark red eyes, “Don’t you see? We can never come back. This is always going to be a place that’s watched. They won’t stop until we’re all working the farms.”

His eyes grew passionate, “We erased all of the signs of life. Give it time. Not that many places have a functioning well Y/n. We can’t afford to just ignore it.”

She wanted to push him away, but a funny thing was happening to her skin when he touched it. It was just like the books she read. He made her swoon and shiver simultaneously. He frustrated her.

She shook her head and tore from his grip, “Look, we need to get going.”

The path down the mountain wasn’t her favorite hike, but today she felt distracted. She walked quickly, listening to the forest sounds. Hades seemed content. His sloppy wolf face was a great indicator of what’s what in the forest.

“Mina, remember the second house your dad hid us at?” Mina ignored him and Y/n wished that she could do the same. “I think it was near here. Remember it had the pool and we swam in it to get clean.” Y/n glanced at her, Mina’s jaw was set. But Kirishima looked oblivious, “God then we found that pantry full of food. Cherry pie filling on toast made on the barbeque was my favorite.”

Y/n imagined the cherry pie filling for half a second before catching a glimpse of Hades in her peripheral. He was crouched with his hackled up and stalked into the long grass. Y/n imitated him and crouched low and Mina followed along. Not from watching Y/n but from seeing Hades. Her eyes haven’t left him.

“What?”

Y/n groaned, “Get down.” Kirishima ducked along with the two girls, but he was too large to actually be able to hide in the grass. She raised an eyebrow at Mina who rolls her eyes. It made Y/n snicker; she’s never actually snickered before.

“How are you still alive?” Y/n whispered.

Mina laughed quietly, “Pure luck. Not even kidding.”

Y/n glanced back at a red-faced Kirishima and smirked.

“Nice to see you have an actual personality Y/n.”

She stuck her tongue out at him until she heard it.

The high moan.

Y/n felt her eyes close in fear and disappointment. She thought one of them were going to die. Whoever couldn’t run fast enough would die.

Hades looked back at Y/n for a second and she could see the worry. He crept forward along the grass and Y/n licked her finger and put it in the wind. The breeze was behind them, meaning it was carrying their smell down the hill. The infected were like survivors that just don’t seem to die. They hunted like animals.

Mina licked her lips and Y/n could see the worry and fear cross her face. Her heartbeat was pounding in her neck and Y/n could watch it increase. Mina looked around and pointed to the trees behind them. But Y/n shook her head. Climbing a tree only puts you a tree surrounded by the infected.

“The river,” Y/n whispered.

Kirishima looked at Y/n with a confused look, “How far?”

“A mile.”

“Y/n your leg and mine won’t make it outrunning the infected for a whole mile.”

Y/n sighed, she knew he was right. But she didn’t have any other ideas. She pulled one of her guns out of her pack and passed it to Kirishima and looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. Don’t shoot me or yourself either.”

Mina took the rifle with the scope, which she had grown fond of, and took the right flank. Hades stalked down the middle of the field and Y/n took left. They left Kirishima on the hillside. His injuries were worse than Y/n’s. The bullet never made its way very far into her leg. The new stitches, lavender and tea tree oil made it heal faster.

She looked back at Kirishima’s red head of hair poking out of the long grass and sighed. He was too big to even try to hide. Y/n was sure that he would be the death of them all. She knew she would leave them if she had to. She forced herself into that agreement. No matter what happened, her father didn’t die so she could waste her life on strangers.

But they didn’t feel like strangers anymore.

She focused her thoughts and scanned the grassy and thin forest.

Bile rose up her throat when she saw them. They were slumped over something. They looked disgusting and diseased, even from the distance Y/n was at. One shoved the other and the high pitch moan shrieked out across the emptiness. Y/n felt the walls of fear closing in on her. She saw a hand come up and down on whatever they had on the group. One of them was striking it. It was still alive. Whatever it was, was sick now, infected like them. They were the closest thing to zombies. They were human but lived with the sickness in a way that could never be considered survival. Their skin was covered in sores, open and scabbed over. Their hair was falling out where sores had taken over their scalps. They cry tears of blood like in the fantasy movies Y/n watched when she was younger. The first thing the virus destroyed was the throat. The high moan was from the scarring in the throat and the brain damage the high fever caused.

She looked toward Mina and hoped that she wasn’t scared. But she quickly forced the thought from her mind and looked back at the infected dinner party. The last time she worried about either of them she got shot.

Y/n pulled her mask from back pocket and slid it over her face. It wasn’t a guarantee but it was better than a gamble.

It was another rule Y/n had. She wore it whenever they were around. The virus should have died out years ago but the ones who got sick after it mutated survived, if you could call it that. They were contagious but didn’t seem to die, no matter how sick their bodies got. There weren’t many of them left but somehow they still managed to ruin lives.

Y/n counted the heads, seven. Not mentioning the one on the ground, if it was human. It could be an animal. The infected had no sense. They attacked anything that moves. Their hunger was too great. Y/n’s seen them attack a bush on a windy day.

Y/n knew that she could take down at least three before they got close enough to make reloading her bow a gamble. She didn’t like gambles. She knew Mina had a pocket full of bullets, but she would be forced to trust that Mina could shoot them before they got to her. That too felt like a gamble when she thought about it.

She felt stuck, like her back was against a wall. She knew Hades could take down at least one. Together they could guarantee four. It still didn’t feel safe enough. She turned back and looked at the hill behind her. She wanted to go home. She wanted to climb the hill and get into her own and lock the world out. Again, she regretted opening the stupid door. She should have left them. She should have left him in that stupid hole.

Y/n was about to run and whistle when she looked at Kirishima once more. He winked at her and grinned. Her stomach started to do the hurting twinge thing. Her lips grin back, she never told them to do that. They seemed to be making choices for themselves.

She pulled the arrow back and sited in the largest one. She felt the gusts of wind and the cycle they seemed to come in. A large gust hit and then left spaces in the air until the next one. She exhaled and released the arrow. He had dark brown hair and a swollen face. He was a man once. But she turned her heart off to him and reloaded instantly.

She felt the next gust of wind and fired, compensating for it. The arrow sliced into a matted head of dark blonde locks. She reloaded, ignoring the ticklish feeling on her cheeks. The infected had noticed two were down. They turned their faces around, searching. Her next arrow hit the milky eye of an older one. The remaining four stood up and began to make the squeal. She cringed, and knew that the sound would haunt her for weeks.

Her next arrow hit the one pointing at her. She dropped the second it slid through her open mouth. She felt a shiver at the sight and reloaded as the remaining three shriek and start their mad dash toward her.

She was able to drop another one before turning and running for the nearest tree. She wanted to run the other way. She wanted to run into the hills and leave them but her feet wouldn’t listen to her. Her legs wouldn’t make it far with a bullet hole in it. The long grass tangled in her feet and pulled at her and the burn in her leg tried to convince her to stop running.

“Y/n. Y/n.” She ignored the voice and continued to run. She could feel the panic rising.

“Y/n they’re all dead.”

She reached the bark of a huge tree and pulled herself up onto a branch just using her arms. She’s practiced this. She looked down at the only two people standing in the grass who were looking at her like she was crazy. But Hades paces. He understood. They’ve run from them many times.

Kirishima approached the tree limping slightly. He put his hands out like he was scared of her, “Y/n they’re all dead.”

“How?”

Mina beamed up at her, “I shot them. I waited for them to run to you and then dropped them all instantly.”

“You? You killed them?”

Mina tilted her head, “You still don’t trust us to help you?”

“I’m stuck.”

Kirishima stood below the huge branch and put his arms out, “Jump.”

Y/n threw down her bow and arrows and looked around. The field didn’t move, except where the wind stroked the dark amber colored grass.

She turned over on her stomach and lowered herself from the branch. She hung there for a second before the strong arms circled her and held her tightly. Suddenly the screaming agony in her leg dulled. Hades nudged her legs and whined,

Kirishima’s breath brushed against her face as he spoke, “You looked a bit like you were going to run away.”

Y/n didn’t realize how close their faces were until she saw herself in his eyes. She bit her lower lip and shook her head, “I panicked. I’ve never been hurt like this when they’re this close before.”

He pulled her close, “I’ll protect you Y/n.” He looked toward Mina, “We both will.” Y/n could see the darkness in her eyes, it was the same look she gave everyone.

“Thanks,” Y/n said just loud enough to be heard.

Mina nodded, “You killed most of them. You have to leave more for me to kill next time.”

Y/n still felt scared and alone.

Kirishima placed her on the ground gently. “Y/n you’re like Robin Hood.” Y/n smirked at the mention of a novel she’s read multiple times during her years of solitude.

Mina sighed, “Kiri don’t get started again on the stories.”

Y/n smiled at him, “I like reading too. I’ve read the same books for ten years. Sometimes I get lucky and find a small paperback that I can fit in my pack. Robin Hood was one that I’ve read a lot.”

Instead of enjoying the feeling of being near him, a heavy disgusting feeling blanketed her. It forced away the joy she borrowed from him. She almost left him. She almost left them. She would leave him. It was her nature.

He frowned at her, “I’d ask a dime for your thoughts but it would probably be more than I could afford.” Y/n laughed but it wasn’t the same free feeling of joy she had seconds ago. She walked away from him and went to pet Hades, who was needy all of a sudden. He rubbed against her and jumped up on his back legs to stand and wrap his paws around her. She hugs him back.

“I love you too,” she whispered into his fur. She glanced at them and nodded in the direction of the farmhouse. “It’s a days walk to the house.” She pointed down the hill.

“We need to deal with him too,” Mina pointed at the beige mass at the bottom of the field and trees.

Y/n squinted, “It’s a man.”

“Great. You get to kill him.”

Y/n laughed bitterly and handed over the bow and arrow to Mina. Mina thought like Y/n and she liked it. She never fired once when Y/n was shooting the arrows. Mina understood conservation. She gave Y/n a wide-eyed smile and took the bow.

“Really? I’ve never done this before.”

“We need to walk closer to him. When you pull the arrow back control every inch of your arms. It feels hard at first but you’ll get used to the tension.

They walked over to where the hill crests. They were near one of the fallen infected and Y/n could smell him. She pointed at a tree further to the right and they all walked over there.

They walked away from the smell of the rotting sick carcass. At the tree Mina attempted to pull the arrow back. Her skinny arms trembled and she looked frustrated.

“I know how you feel right now. It took me two years. It won’t happen on the first try.”

Mina pouted, “Can we make me a bow maybe?”

Y/n nodded excitedly. They hadn’t had much to talk about. She took the bow and arrow and shot the dying man. His body trembled slightly and his skin had chew marks. The infected will eat anything.

“Hold it steady, sight in what you want to shoot and then take a deep breath.” Y/n explained. They were close enough that it made a slicing sound as the arrow entered his temple. “Always exhale when you release.” Y/n grimaced as she looked at the arrow sticking out of his bleeding head.

“Wow,” Mina said in awe.

Y/n nodded, “Yeah it took a lot of practice.”

“Sweet fucking god.”

Y/n turned toward Kirishima’s voice, “What?”

Kirishima was standing behind the two girls, “You guys do realize that’s a person you just shot. These were all people.”

Mina scoffed, “They’re infected Kiri. They’re not like you or me or even the city people.”

Y/n frowned, “City people?”

Kirishima looked down at the grass.

Mina looked at Y/n, “We saw it. We went close enough to see it.”

“Electricity? Running water?”

Mina nodded, “Everything. No cars but a subway and houses and pretty big buildings. It’s on the edge of the desert.”

Y/n felt sickened by the question that popped into her head but she asked anyway, “What about the farms?”

“Up and running still. I think the babies go to the city after they’re born.”

Kirishima sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He seemed bothered by the conversation.

“He’s military.”

“What?” Y/n asked as she looked at Mina who was pointing to the dead man with the arrow sticking out of his temple. She looked at her boots and shook her head. “We need to be far away. Now.”

They didn’t talk. They left the arrows sticking out of the faces of the people on the ground. Y/n never took the arrows from the infected. They walked across the small field and into the forest on the other side.

She watched Hades the entire walk. It stopped her from watching Kirishima. Hades was the best warning system. Kirishima was a distraction.

---

weewooweewoo i smell like poopoo

[slashscowboyboots]

Happy Taco Truck: Some Fine Things (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

This is the final installment, an early Christmas gift to my sis @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands​!  Thank you so much for your feedback, it means everything

Tag list: @izzysdenimjacket​ @no-stone-no-bone​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll​ @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands​ @smokeandmirrorz​ @sodalitefully​​ @roger-taylors-car​​  @harley-m-rose​ @whisperess33​ @shawolat​ @80snikki​

Warnings: language, Axl is a brat, horny Izz, Slaxl takes a long time to marinate, Izzy is just too romantic

Notes:  this is my first try at slash fiction, so be gentle.  All credits to the songwriters, and the “Jose Cuervo” line is from the movie “DC Cab.” I would give just about everything to hear Izzy sing “Lodi”

“Can I help you?” your coworker asked.

You glanced over at him, tenderness unfurling in your heart.  After Skyler took off with James from “Hetfield & Grohl’s” to work the barbecue circuit, you’d been up shit creek until Steven recommended a guy he knew, and a curly-haired, soft-spoken guy who for some undeterminable reason went by the moniker “Slash” had turned up to work the window.

It was the first time in your life you’d met an individual even shyer than yourself.  Slash was easy-going and smart, and once you got to know him, incredibly funny, but inside his shell was where he was truly comfortable, and with the amount of assholes who demanded the impossible being the brunt of your customers, you wondered if he was going to last.

“Yeah, gimme a chicken taco.”  Speaking of assholes, here was Axl placing his usual order.  He had been really taking advantage of the discount you offered him, turning up several times a day to collect his free meals.  Izzy mentioned he’d been finding antacids stashed in the ice cream truck.

The heat inside the truck forced Slash to pull his gorgeous curls back in a ponytail, and his exposed eyes fell downwards.  “Sure.  I’ll have that right out,” he said in his quiet voice, then closed the hatch.

You dumped chicken on the flattop.  “Slash, hon, we can’t shut the window until we’re closed,” you gently reminded him, moving the seasoned meat around.

“I-I can’t talk to him,” he whispered, his soft eyes full of fear.

“Why not?  I mean, yeah, he can be a jerk sometimes, but-”, and it was at that moment you caught it.  You recognized that same desperate look.  You’d worn it yourself a little while ago, when you had been too shy to chat up Izzy.  How frightened you’d been of embarrassing yourself, only to find out that Izz lit up every time he looked at you, and was now completely incapable of keeping his wandering hands to himself.

“Oh, Slash,” you murmured, handing him the taco.  His hands were shaking too bad to add the crema, so you did it yourself, and he opened the hatch to an irate Axl.

“Here-here you go,” he said, and you hoped you were the only one who heard the waver in his voice.

“The hell’s wrong with you!  You can’t even talk to your customers?!”  Axl’s face was nearly as red as his hair as he screamed at Slash.

Slash’s mouth flew open in hurt, and you stepped up to the window.  “Axl, that was my fault.  I was showing Slash how to add the special sauce.  And that is a closely guarded secret,” you lied.  There were some days you really wanted to punch him in the mouth.  “And you will not speak to my assistant like that ever again.  You understand?”

Axl looked at you, then Slash.  “Hey, man, I’m sorry,” he said, and you nearly tumbled out the window in surprise.  Axl raised hell with everybody and everything, but you’d never heard him apologize before.

“S’okay,” Slash said, barely audible, looking down, and you wanted to put your arms around him and give him a comforting squeeze.

Axl opened his mouth to say something, then stuffed his taco in it and walked away.

“Why he took a job in customer service is beyond me,” you muttered, then patted Slash on the back.  “I’ve never heard him tell anyone he was sorry.  You must be special,” and Slash’s face lit up as he smiled.

And you knew you had a problem on your hands.

“Yoo hoo?  Where’s my beloved?  I got a bottle of Jose Cuervo and I brought my lucky rubber,” Izzy announced, climbing aboard your truck.

“I’m out here, Izz,” you called, slamming the lid down on the trash can.

He walked into your view and let out a loud whistle.  “Have I told you you get more beautiful every day?” he asked, pulling you to him for a kiss.

“Mmmm, hi, handsome,” you said against his mouth.  “You’re just the person I wanted to see.”

“And you’re just the person I wanted to see naked.”

“Izz!” you scolded.  “I actually need your help with something.”

“I can help you do that.  Over and over again.”

You playfully swatted him.  “It’s about Slash.” Izzy’s face grew serious.  “He didn’t quit, did he?  I mean, I can fill in for him again, but I’d need to lay down for like a week afterward.”

You shook your head.  “No, he didn’t quit.”  That week Izzy subbed at the Happy Taco window had left him scarred for life.  “He, uh, he has a crush.”

Izzy furrowed his eyebrows.

“On Axl.”

He blinked.  “And?”

“And I thought maybe you could help me play matchmaker.”

Izzy turned and pounded his head against the side of the truck.

“Honey,” you pleaded, “please.  He’s so shy I don’t think he has any idea how to approach him.”

“Babe, even if I wanted to do this, and I don’t, Axl has been acting so fucking weird lately there’s no way I could talk to him.”

“Weird?  What’s he doing?”

“Well, he comes over here for tacos all the time now, then when comes back, he plays all of his Elton John tapes at full blast.  Then he cleans the truck from top to bottom.  He’s even nice to the customers now.”

“But he came over here and yelled at Slash!”

His eyes met yours.  “What did Slash do to him?”

“He didn’t talk to him.”

Izzy was quiet for a moment.  “Y/N, I don’t think he’s coming over here for just tacos, although they are excellent.”

“See, they need our help.”

Izzy closed his eyes and beat his head against the truck again.  

“They just need a little nudge in the right direction.”

He wearily looked at you, and you put your hand on his cheek.  “Fine,” he rasped.  “Whatever.  But right now, I need to go in the right direction, and that direction is horizontal with you on top of me.”

“Slash, are you busy tonight?”

You honestly had no idea what Slash did on his nights off.  As soon as you closed the truck, he exchanged pleasantries with Izzy and hopped on his bike and pedaled away.  When you’d offered him an invitation to stay and meet the rest of the Circle, he mumbled something about feeding a snake and fled.

Tonight, you hoped he would have a change of heart.  After hours, you and Izzy usually got up to activities that did not require any participants, but he had talked Axl into a jam session, bringing along two guitars as well as a tambourine.

“I-I don’t have any plans,” he said quietly, gazing longingly out the window.  It was nearly time for Axl to fetch his dinner taco.

“There’s a jam over at the Frozen Delights truck after they close.”

Slash lit up, grinning wider than you had ever seen him, then his face fell.  “I didn’t bring my guitar.”

“Izzy brought two.  He’d like to hear you play.”  That was almost a lie.  Izzy wasn’t all that keen on a jam, preferring the two of you spending time alone, but when you whispered on his neck you’d make it up to him, his enthusiasm level picked up.

To your surprise, Slash’s cheeks flushed.  “I’d love to come,” then he stood up a little straighter and you saw Axl strutting up to the window.

“Hey, Slash,” he greeted him, and you stepped back into the shadows to give them a semblance of privacy.

“Hi.”

“Hey, you wanna come over tonight and play music with me and Izz?  He’s got an extra guitar.”

Slash beamed at him, then lowered his eyes.  “Sure.  So-sounds good.”

Axl smiled back, and you about fell over at the sight.  Too bad he didn’t do it more often, he was quite attractive when he stopped scowling.  He began to walk away, then backtracked.  “Hey,” he squinted up, “do you like barbecue?”

Slash blinked, then replied, “I love barbecue.”

Axl’s smile got even bigger.  “I’ll have some when you get there.”

After he left, Slash looked over at you with his mouth agape.

“Well, it sounds like you have a date,” you chuckled at him.  “Good thing he’s provided dinner.”

He tilted his head.  “Why?”

“I was going to suggest you bring over one of those homewrecker corn dogs and eat it in front of him,” you cackled.  “Izzy’s eyes nearly left his head when I did that.”

“Oh shit,” Slash breathed, laughing with you, then his eyes turned pleading.  “You’ll be there, won’t you, you and Izz?  You won’t leave me alone?”

Well, that had been the plan.  “Uhhh, sure, Slash.  We won’t leave you.”

After you locked up, you nearly had to drag a primping Slash down to the Frozen Delights truck, pecking Izzy on the lips when you arrived.  Axl had taken off to get dinner, so the three of you sat down and opened up beers while you awaited his return.

You watched Slash’s leg nervously bounce up and down, then Axl stood in front of him and handed him a takeout container.  

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got you a sample platter,” he said, and you swore you heard a note of shyness in his voice.

Izzy cleared his throat, and Axl all but flung your containers at the two of you.  “Yeah, I got you the same,” he mumbled, jerking his lawn chair closer to Slash’s.

The four of you ate in silence, you silently thanking Kelly for his prowess with pork, working the meat off a rib and catching an ornery smile from Izzy.

Axl just picked at his platter, moving around his coleslaw and half heartedly munching on his brisket.  His eyes never left Slash, who looked down and gnawed on a rib.

Their awkwardness made you bite back a wince, then you snuck a glance at Izzy, who stabbed his pulled pork wearing expression that looked like he was in acute intestinal distress.  His eyes met yours, then he mouthed, “Kill me.”

“So, uh, Slash, how long have you played guitar?” you asked, dipping a slice of brisket into Kelly’s heavenly sauce.

He pulled on his beer.  “A few years.”

Izzy sat his container down and wiped his hands and face with a napkin.  “I’m ready to play if you are,” he barked, swiftly flicking open his guitar case.

Slash blinked, swallowing his pulled pork.  “Sure,” he said, wiping his hands and carefully picking Izzy’s other guitar up.

Izzy began the opening notes of “Midnight Rider,” Slash chiming in after a few bars, then Axl and Izzy began singing, “I’ve got to run to keep from hiding,” and you dropped a naked rib bone in shock.

They sounded incredible.

You watched them in awe, then Izzy nodded at you, and you began singing with them.  You’d actually done this before, sitting in with Izzy while he played guitar and Axl sang, but Slash was like the key that unlocked their greatness.

Axl and Slash exchanged grins, looking into each other’s eyes, then, wearing a happy smile, Izzy started singing one of his favorites, “Lodi.”

Slash strummed along, but Axl didn’t sing.  Instead, he watched Slash play, his fingers working up and down the neck of the guitar, his silver rings glinting in the moonlight, and a soft smile played on his lips.

He took a sip of beer when they finished, then said, “I have a song I’d like to sing.”

He moved closer to Slash, then pushed his curls out of his eyes and sang,

“Desperado

Why don’t you come to your senses

You’ve been out ridin fences for so long now”

Slash looked down, setting Izzy’s guitar in its case, then Axl tipped his chin up and continued,

“Oh, you’re a hard one

But I know that you got your reasons

These things that are pleasing you

Can hurt you somehow

Izzy silently packed away his guitar, then jerked his head towards Helen the Happy Taco truck.  You followed him, turning around to see Axl whisper,

“You better let somebody love you

Before it’s too late”

and press a kiss to Slash’s lips, then Slash put his arms around Axl’s neck and returned it.

“Thank God,” Izzy muttered.  “I’d rather fuck a bee’s nest than tag along on one of their dates again.”

[curestardust]

Dust Watched: Wave!!: Surfing Yappe!!

Genres: Sports (Surfing), All-boys // 12 episodes

An anime that made me thing that getting stabbed seemed more fun than watching another episode of this shit.

✧  story  ✧

There are so many problems here I don’t even know where to begin. Deep down and I mean the Mariana Trenches deep, this is your cookie-cutter Sports anime. Main character who has no interest in the sport meets someone who’s really good at the sport and they pick it up. Friendships are formed through the Sport. But all this is just presented in the most BORING way I’ve seen. The techniques of surfing itself are never properly explained. Characters applaud that someone pulled off X named difficult trick but I don’t feel the same because every single move feels and looks the exact same. I’m never given a reference point to judge the progress of any of the characters besides “falling off board -> not good”. This is an anime about a sport and it completely fails to actually introduce me to the intricacies of the sport. There are a lot of Sports anime I’ve watched by now and the overall conclusion I’ve come to is that even if an anime is shit, if it made me want to look into the sport outside of the show or hell, even try it for myself, then it was worth something. I’m not any more interested in surfing than I was before watching “Surfing Yappe” so as its core genre, this anime is a huge flop (pun intended).

✧  characters  ✧

Here’s where I’ll mention that this show was originally shown as 3 movies in theaters. Besides the main character, there are 7 characters who all make up the “surfing gang” of this show. We move along with the main character, the first movie introducing us to 2, the 2nd 3, and the last one to 2 of the main surfers. So, you’d think, that with having entire movies dedicated to building certain characters and their relationships they wouldn’t completely fail to do so. But yes, they absolutely do. All of them have one trait each: tech wizard, otaku, hot-headed, genius, rich etc. The only characters who have a semblance of personality are the main 2 but both of them peace out after 3 episodes and then we’re left to stare at the most uninteresting characters do basically nothing for the majority of the runtime. The nail in the coffin is the main character however: Masaki is a fucking dumbass. He picks up sufing but he CAN’T. SWIM. Throughout the anime he almost drowns 3 times! 3! He is also written to be a dumbass on purpose so the other characters can drop surfing facts and history cause he doesn’t know about it. Add his stupid catchphrases to the mix which are extra cringe every time AND his VA who doesn’t fit him, his personality or design in the slightest and it’s a lot of grating noises, stupid meaningless discussions, meaningless drama that’s solved in 2 seconds, annoying phrases repeated over and over and over again by characters you don’t give a fuck about and it’s downright torture.

✧  art  ✧

Usually, 3DCG is used for more dynamic or difficult shots so the 2D scenes don’t suffer as much. Now, the 3D models for these characters are not only ugly but some of them are insanely creepy looking. Kousuke’s model doesn’t even look like him, it took me half the anime to realize that was supposed to be him. The 2D art, in itself is fine. But that’s because it’s still. You’ll notice if you pay attention that characters barely move, every shot is from the same boring angle, and everything is just so... boring. 

✧  sound ✧

I generally like the soundtrack fine enough. There are a few synth tracks in the OST that I really liked.. the first time I heard them. The 75th time, not so much!

✧  overview ✧

These were the longest 12 episodes in my life. That one point is for my pal Naoya for his hyperfixation being a magical girl anime.

My Rating: 2/10

[scarletbluebird13]

Hi! Could I request some general MK fluff headcanons?

*Screams into the void* Nonnie, I’m so very sorry this took a   v e r y   long time for me to do for you -- I hope you can forgive me. So, without further adieu, here’s your request - I sincerely hope it’s to your liking and my apologies if the wait was most certainly not worth it. To you and the other people who requested: I’m so sorry for the long wait and if I made you feel ignored. Thank you so much for your patience, I really do appreciate it. <3

PSA: I’d gotten this request *quite* a while ago and had begun working on it that week. At the time, Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night” had not been released. I’d begun working on this December 4, 2020. To this day (March 14, 2021) I’ve yet to read Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night.” (i’m well aware I’m a horrible writer and mk fan - sue me) 

for what it was worth, it was worth all the while

Kazuomi: 

It’s just another wednesday night

Except it’s not

Kazuomi being - well, Kazuomi - decided to take you on a trip 

It was, like everything else he does, spontaneous

All you did to get swept up in this madness was become someone important to him

If you hadn’t walked into his office when you had, he was going to personally go to your apartment and drag you out of there

So really, you saved him the trip 

When he told you he was taking you on a trip, you were confused 

“When?” 

“Now” 

You not having a suitcase packed or anything wasn’t an issue

Kazuomi had a bunch of stuff in the closet for you 

Of course, it wouldn’t be kazuomi if a little bet was involved

You really wanted to know where you were going

But he refused to say

SO the second the words “How about a bet?” fell from your lips,

Never one to stray from wagers, he stopped what he was doing, and smirking a bit, looked slightly over his shoulder, waiting for you to continue

“I get to ask you three - and only three - questions about where it is we’re headed. You have to answer truthfully, and I can’t outright ask you where it is we’re going. After I’ve asked the questions, I get one shot at guessing where we’re going. If I win, you have to watch a Tom Cruise movie with me and you’ve got to actually pay attention to the movie.”

“What if you lose?”

“Choose your prize.”

“Oho, I get to choose?”

“I’m going to regret this later, but yes, you can choose.”

“I want to see a picture of you when you were little - the most recent one you have on your phone.”

You grumbled, but agreed. 

Aaaand, of course, Lady Luck was on Kazuomi’s side again (although, when is she not?)

So you had to start digging through your phone looking for a picture. 

That bastard had the biggest smirk on his face

He teased you the whole flight, wondering what kind of picture he’d get to see

Finally, after what seemed like 50 hours (more like 12 hours, to be exact), the private plane landed

Well, you’d never guessed here, of all the other places Kazuomi could’ve taken you. 

You were in Mexico. 

Kazuomi’d taken you to the country his adoptive father would bring him to on vacations. 

Your heart felt a twinge of pain, but mostly, you melted at the fact that Kazuomi’d want to bring you somewhere so close to his past - to him. 

The rest of the day (since the time and flight did a number on the both of you) you’d headed to a hotel together, opting to get some rest before exploring

But Kazuomi woke you up 

It was dark out, and you were still a bit tired

But he had that boyish look in his eye 

And you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep then - not when he got excited like this 

Not that you’d ever tell him, but you thought this boyish side to him was adorable 

He got you out of bed, and asked you to follow him 

“Not like I could go back to sleep anyway” was your response

“I want to show you something”

He led you to the rooftop,

Mexico City’s lights glistening below the both of you

The rich smell (and sounds) of street vendors selling elotes and carne asada to passersby filled your senses

Curiously, you looked down and admired the world beneath your feet

“Lay down”

You turned around and found Kazuomi laying on his back, eyes looking to the celestial world above you rather than the glittering one below 

Following his lead, you let yourself down beside him, still wondering why Mexico of all places, and why bring you here -- and why did he wake you up

He wrapped one arm around you, and as if reading your mind, said

“I didn’t have a lot growing up. Everyday, before I met my adoptive father, I was on the streets - not knowing if I’d live to see the next day. But then one day, that changed. I was adopted, and lived out a grand life with him. I never again had to worry about living to the next day - which, before my time on the streets, was something I took for granted.”

“I’m lucky to have someone by my side - you. I get to bring you to these places - the ones where I visited on holidays. During a time when I was safe again - where it wasn’t me against the world or the elements.”

“I mean, yeah, it was bad - but there was some semblance of hope.” 

“In my mind, back then, the world I knew was cruel and dark. Hateful. Corrupt. Sinister. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless. The days were hard, but the nights were harder. Then again, the nights weren’t so bad. That’s because when I thought all the world was bleak, I’d lay down, get ready to sleep - but when I did, I always saw the stars. They’re always in clusters. Never alone. They shine, and give off so much light - they’re beautiful.”

“When I thought all the world was bleak, the stars proved me wrong. They’re proof that even when things get bad, when everything seems dark, there’s a glimmer of home somewhere out there. And I want to believe that because they’re always in clusters they’re never really alone - and we’re never really alone.”

“I wanted to bring you here because you’re that important to me. You’re worth my secrets - knowing my every mystery. So I wanted to show you this. The stars. The things that restore my wonder, awe, and hope when I thought there was nothing. They’re what made me want to build resorts for people, so they’d never feel that depth of loneliness that I’ve felt.”

He looks over at you, a sense of sadness hanging there, in his eyes, nearly snuffing out the boyish look you’d seen in him not five minutes before. 

“That’s enough of me, now, show me that picture of you.” He says, a smirk tugging at his lips, attempting to erase the melancholic grip around his heart. 

Thankful you brought your phone with you, you pulled it out, showing Kazuomi a picture of you when you were about five.

You’re wearing a dress, covered in mud, and crying. 

Kazuomi’s smirk dissolved into a laugh, trying not hard enough to hold back a laugh following his snort 

You explain that you were playing in the park when you’d slipped on a patch of mud, somehow scraping your knee in the process

He couldn’t hold back anymore

The image of a cherubic, muddy, crying version of the strong, capable woman before him made him forget where he was 

Although on any other day you’d hate the fact he was laughing at you, you were okay with it.

For a long time, Kazuomi’s smile was barely a ‘smile’

For so long he’d been in pain, and he’d been burying it. 

Now though - he had you.

He chose to bring you to a place close to his heart - after he’d been saved.

He opened up to you and told you a story about the stars up above that helped him get through it. 

And you made him laugh 

As you lay there, looking at him, laughing, you decided to engrave this moment in your mind. 

You promised yourself then; 

When things got hard for him again, you’d be there. Ready to help him through whatever may stand in his way. 

Yuzuru:

Blankets of white covered everything in sight

Christmas lights decorated the streets 

every woman envied you - you were beautiful, smart, had wit, but most of all;

You were the only one who captivated Yuzuru

The only one he made those eyes at - 

You were the only one who held his heart

And he made sure you knew that

Every winter, when the snow coated everything, he’d take you to a winter festival in the heart of Tokyo

Ice and snow sculptures alike littered the area, food stands selling warm food stood at attention beside the gaming booths. 

Children chase each other, their mothers following close behind badgering their children to wear the scarves and hats they’d left behind.

Seated beside Yuzuru on a bench, you watch two children playing together: a boy and a girl.

He’s running in circles away from her, and she roars as she chases him. 

Thinking the scene adorable, you chuckle a bit as you rest your head in the palm of your hand, your elbow digging into your thigh. 

Suddenly, a welcome warmth makes its presence known on your otherwise numb free hand. 

“They’re cute.”

“Yeah.” you say, enchanted by the children

“What do you think about becoming a mother?” 

Surprised at the sudden question, you face him, seeing he’s completely serious - then again, Yuzuru’s not one who’d say something like that in a joking manner.

“It’s something I’d want, but with my line of work, it’s dangerous - not only for me, but for the kid.” 

You say, turning back to look at the children innocently playing - not a care in the world. 

“That makes sense - but you are open to becoming a mother, aren’t you? It is something you want?”

“Yeah, I’m still open to it - what’s with all the questions, by the way?” 

“I thought it was an important discussion. Especially if we’re to get married one day.”

The way he nonchalantly said that almost made you think you’d merely imagined that last bit

“Afterall,” he continues

“You are the only woman I’d want to be the mother of my children.” 

A promise of the future, made to you. 

Did he know how flustered that made you? 

Probably. Probably not.

Did he know if he’d chosen to have this conversation at a party with all those shabby women gathered around him they’d be seething?

Absolutely not. 

He’s a bit oblivious that way.

And yes, the jealousy can get suffocating, but it makes you happy to think that Yuzu’s already thinking this far ahead - for the both of you.

The man who’s known solitude all of his life, fantasizes of a future with you - of a life with no more solitude. A life where you’re together (yes, maybe Victoria’ll be the third wheel - but she’s okay. Afterall, it still brings a smile to your face when you think back on her interrupting you two that night - when Yuzuru’s temperature steadily increased--). 

Kei:

You two had a small little date planned for the day 

What seemed to be a simple date at his place, drinking tea

Turned into one of the more peaceful days in both your lives. 

Before either of you knew it, he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder. 

Probably because he’d just returned from having to do some work at the embassy and prior to that - deal with something that’d come up back in London.

How long had it been since he’d properly slept?

Despite him being weary and tired, he’d kept his promise to go on a date with you when he returned. 

Kei’s heart’s been scarred and broken far too many times, so for this angel with tattered wings to sleep next to you

Made you smile 

He may not know how to properly express himself 

But for you? 

He’d do just about anything 

You looked at his sleeping face for just a bit longer, doing everything you could to spread this moment out longer. 

Just a bit more

Memorize his scent mixed with the smell of the tea 

Feel his soft warmth against your skin - a blanket of fortitude against the cold

Commit the sound of his breathing and the pulses of his heart to memory

Remember the way his eyelashes slightly quiver against his porcelain cheeks

Remember this moment, for the both of you 

Because honestly, you could be sent on a mission tomorrow, he could leave for London this afternoon, and you two’d never have this moment of isolated serenity again. 

Well, for a while, anyway.

Wanting to protect the resting devious angel at your shoulder, you couldn’t help but slide into a comforting rest yourself.

And there you two remain, the perfect picture of devotion and protection. Serenity and grace. How long would this illusion last? This fragile moment frozen in glass and tainted by the amber hues of the setting sun? 

Probably not long, but for what it was worth, it was worth all the while.

Boss:

A rare day off for the both of you.

It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing that’d only happen well -- only once.

He’d taken you to the observatory

Just a day of walking around, looking at different constellations and sitting in that one dark room looking up at the ceiling where millions upon millions of tiny little stars gleamed

You were breath taken by the sight, and never would’ve looked away 

Except

Boss caressed your cheek with his long fingers, all the warmth and gentle care in the world seeming to be at the tips, gliding across your cheek

You look over at him 

“I love the way you look at the stars”

Embarrassed, your cheeks turning a bright rosy pink, visible even under the artificial cover of night, you cover it up with a quick quip, turning your head to the side.

“Well that’s the way you look at soy sauce.” 

Nonetheless, he chuckles and holds your head close 

Chin resting atop your head and hand running down your back, he whispers - quiet enough you almost can’t hear him;

“Always so quick to get flustered ...But that’s okay. As long as I’m the only one capable of flustering you, just as you are me.”  

[2seokfan]

Scarlet & Hazel | Ch. 3

pairings: hoseok x reader x yoongi

genre: fluff, very light angst, smut (future)

word count: 6k

chapters: ch.1, ch.2, ch.3. ch.4

summary: 

Just cause you’re living paycheck to paycheck in a tiny apartment even after graduating college doesn’t mean you’re not happy. So what if your best friend is working her dream job making close to six figures every year?  So what if she’s in a loving, committed relationship with her perfect boyfriend that you’re 99% sure is going to propose to her sometime next year? It doesn’t matter that your idea of a perfect relationship is a $9.99 bottle of wine on Friday nights while you binge watch Netflix specials.

Ok so maybe you’re a teensy bit miserable. Maybe you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Maybe all you need to do is accidentally cross paths with two hybrids who will drastically change that.

Meet “Scarlet” and “Hazel”, two of the most gorgeous hybrid men you have ever laid eyes on. With their help, you learn that life is an adventure, a roller-coaster with ups and downs, and you were too preoccupied with yourself to climb out of your own predicament. And hey, you’re not much of a romantic, but with these two, you just might change your mind.

a/n: Hello, Jun here! Whew this took a while to write but thank you for your patience!! (poor Y/N still doesn’t know their real names but maybe she’ll find out soon?) Any feedback is appreciated <3 

tag list: @wilhelminalucinda​ @ghostkat23​ @ayoo-bangtan​ @sadgurllayha

2 months later.

August is relentless. You’re sweaty all the time and you have no choice but the crank up the a/c every single day. This heat wave is incredibly brutal because all you want to do is stay at home eating ice cream in your underwear but instead you’re stuck working overtime to pay for what you assume will be a record-high electricity bill. Fuck you global warming. 

It’s currently Tuesday. You’re on lunch break at work, chowing down on a falafel wrap and scrolling through your phone, when a text pops up from Karli.

Karli: Don’t forget!

You: ???

Karli: This friday?

You scratch your head. Wtf?

You: What’s on friday?

Karli: Umm the date? Remember?

No you didn’t. Your dumbass actually forgot about a whole date. You can’t believe yourself. Karli finally set you up with that accountant guy from her job. What’s his name again? Brad? Brandon?

You: oh yeah! my bad haha

Karli: You forgot his name didn’t you?

You: …maybe

Karli: Lol it’s Bryce sweetie

Karli: He’s really sweet! Just give it a shot

You: of course i will

You: i’ll turn up my maximum charm

Karli: Dats my girlllll

Karli: Ugh gtg it’s my boss

Karli: Bye!

You: bye babe

You set your phone down, trying to envision this upcoming Friday. Karli mentioned she gave Bryce your phone number, and he’ll text you sometime this week about your date, so at least you don’t have to make any moves first. She did show you his picture though, being the wingman that she is by stalking all his social media just for you. You’ve gotta admit he is cute, the profile picture showed him sporting a casual smile, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The classic boy-next-door look.

“And he’s most likely not a serial killer!” You remember her declaring a few weeks ago, after scrolling through all his tweets. And when you say all his tweets you mean EVERY Single tweet from when he created his account in high school till now. Your best friend does not fuck around. 

“Thanks I appreciate that. Glad he’ll ‘most likely’ not kill me.” You rolled your eyes and grinned at her.

While you munch away the rest of your lunch, you think about how you just aren’t acting like yourself lately. In any other circumstance, you would’ve found yourself more excited for the date. Hell, in any other circumstance you would’ve at LEAst remembered his name, or thought about what to wear by now, or even stalked his social media along with Karli. There’s just a teensy problem though. See, in the past few months you happen to have met two boys who completely changed your standards in men. And you may have maybe developed the tiniest crush on both of them, at the same time. Like how?? You didn’t think you were physically capable of doing that?

You sigh, staring at the rest of your falafel wrap, and force yourself to accept reality. As much as you adore them, you know that your little crush will be completely unreciprocated. This you found out through your group chat, now named ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ (courtesy of Scarlet). It’s not that you confessed to them or anything, they just happened to let slip to you one day that they’re a mated pair. And hybrids mate for life, so they take that shit very seriously. Although this news stung a little, it didn’t cause you to be envious in any way. At the end of the day, crush or not, you’re just glad you have two more people in your life you can confidently call your close friends.

For the past two months you’ve actively kept up with them. Sometimes you’ll send memes back and forth all night, sometimes you’ll group call each other after work. Every once in a while, when they’re not busy doing whatever it is they’re doing, they facetime you. These are your favorite moments because you get to see them in all their attractive glory. Just because they don’t like you that way doesn’t mean a girl can’t deny herself some eye candy. 

You guys never run out of things to talk about. Each day you check the group chat and it’ll be popping. Your topics range from the movie that just came out, restaurants they discovered, to even discussing new criminal cases (you got Hazel into watching true crime Youtube videos and now he’s entirely hooked). Sometimes you just sit back and watch the two boys bicker back and forth. It’s hysterical how they decide to argue through text since you’re sure both of them are probably in the same room together, but you appreciate them keeping you in the loop. 

At this point they’ve already virtually met Karli. She’s been in the background of one or two of your facetimes. You’re glad she approves of them instantly and you wonder if it has a little something to do with their, especially Scarlet’s, boyish charms. She does keep you grounded though, never failing to mention how it’s suspicious that you don’t know their real names yet.

“I don’t think they mean any harm and they seem genuinely nice,” she had reassured, “But you gotta admit not telling you their names is a little sketch.”

You just shrugged. “They have their reasons.”

Internally you do believe she has a point. Even though you don’t want to force information out of the boys, you’re a naturally curious person. Your mind has already compiled a list of all the unusual facts you’ve discovered about them. 

A couple of things have become clear to you over the span of the last few months. The most important fact is that although they share tons of content with you, you still have no idea what they do for a living. You’re also 90% sure they don’t have an owner since there’s never anyone else around them. Another, more interesting fact is that you suspect they’re actually pretty wealthy. Every time you facetime, they’re in some sort of lavish looking hotel penthouse, with fancy furniture and artwork hanging in the background. They also dress designer, occasionally flashing their Balenciaga hats, or little Gucci necklaces, or other fancy logos your peasant-ass is unfamiliar with. You actually googled one of Hazel’s t-shirts from your most recent facetime, having no idea what the FG logo stood for. You remember your eyes bulging out of your head after discovering his plain white shirt with two black letters cost more than $200. TWO HUNDred dollars?!!! Do you know how much food and gas you could buy with $200? Why in the fuck would he spend that much on a shirt??

If only you knew how much their watches cost.

Friday rolls around faster than you can blink and before you know it, you’re rushing home from work to get ready. Bryce texted you for the first time on Wednesday to see if you wanted sushi (hell yeah you did) and you were fortunate enough to notify your boss so you could be let out early. You’ve been such a work horse the last few months that they had no choice but to let you leave in advance. 

So far Bryce seems nice enough but you can’t get a proper gauge of his character through text. Oh well, guess you’ll find out tonight.

The sushi place you’re meeting at is on the fancier side, and includes a bar. Knowing yourself, if there’s a bar, there’s no car, which means you won’t be driving. The last thing you want is to leave your car parked somewhere sketchy overnight cause you accidentally got too tipsy to drive. You like to think you have some semblance of control but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

You were let out at 4, which means you have only 2 hours to get ready. As soon as you get home you sprint to your closet at lightning speed. You rummage through your drawers, hoping to find something, ANYthing, that’s appropriate for this occasion. For one quick second, your eyes dart to your forbidden drawer, aka the ho drawer. It contains the remains of your slutty party dresses and tops from college. Being the hoarder that you are, you never like throwing away things, even if you have no need for them anymore. Wait, what the hell am I thinking? You snap your eyes back to the rest of your closet. You’re going for sushi, not to dance at some club. Besides, you have no intention of sleeping with anyone tonight.

After an hour of deciding on a suitable outfit you finally start on your makeup. Your work makeup has dried up, and now feels gross and cakey on your face, so you remove it all and start anew. At least you had the decency to shower this morning so your hair isn’t too gross.

The place is around a 10 minute Uber ride away but you took your sweet ass time getting ready so now you’re in a frenzy. When your phone buzzes, signaling your driver is here, you swipe on some lipstick last minute, grab some chunky heels, and practically fly out the door. 

You stare out the window of your ride, wondering why you’re lowkey wishing you could spend Friday night at home watching tv instead, or even just spending the evening facetiming two hot hybrids. This all feels a little too rushed. But no, you shake your head and attempt to hype yourself up. C’mon Y/N this is the first real date you’ve been on in ages. At least TRy and be a little more motivated. 

The car pulls up and you thank the driver, stepping out into the warm night air. August is still hot, even in the evenings, and you’re glad you didn’t bring a cardigan. Bryce has already texted you, letting you know he was inside, sitting at your reserved spot. You take a deep breath. Ok, time to put on your game face. You strut in, trying your very best to push the faces of two very good-looking friends out of your mind.

You spot Bryce in a corner, head buried in his phone, his wavy blonde hair not easy to miss. You slide in the seat across from him, prompting him to quickly look up and flash you an easygoing smile.

“Hello there!”

“Hi!” You chuckle nervously. “I hope I’m not too late.”

“Not all all!” He slides his phone back in his pocket, smile still on his face. “You’re just in time.”

A waiter comes by and you both take your orders. You make sure to order a drink because you have a feeling you’ll need the liquid courage to strike up more conversation. Maybe some sake will help ease you.

The first couple minutes are kinda awkward, not gonna lie. Bryce tries to get you to talk about work and you do answer him, but honestly work is the last thing you want to discuss right now. You try to shift the conversation to his job, but that only ends up being worse as he quickly launches into the ins and outs of life as an accountant. Maybe your two hybrids friends have spoiled you because you barely remember the last time you had to fill empty space with small talk.

When the food comes you quietly sigh a breath of relief, hoping the sushi in front of you will help you both get settled and give you time to think of more interesting topics to talk about.

“So,” you wrack your brain, “let’s get to know each other more! Like, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” That’s got to be a safe enough question.

“Hm, I’m actually more of a yogurt kinda guy, ice cream’s not really my thing.”

You freeze, California roll halfway to your mouth. Ok, ok, cool, cool. So he doesn’t like ice cream, that’s fine. You sweat a little. Hurry Y/N think of something else to ask.

“Yeah, I guess that’s not everybody’s thing.” You grimace. “Then what about, i don’t know, cookies? What’s your favorite kinda cookie?”

“Actually I prefer crackers, you know, like the saltine ones? Cookies can be too sweet sometimes.” He’s devouring his dragon roll, not noticing the panic in your eyes. He’s caught you off guard twice today.

This isn’t going well and you’re genuinely surprised because you know Karli has done her research, certain that you two would get along. Guess life really likes to throw you some curveballs. 

Who the fuck prefers crackers over cookies anyway?? Ok. Code red! Change the fucking subject before the silence becomes unbearable. Your dessert-related ice breakers had never failed you before but there’s always a first for everything, you guess.

You take a generous swig of sake. “Right, crackers are... good.” You’re mumbling at this point. “Ok, um, what about hobbies? Got any?” Please throw me a fucking bone here! Your mind is reeling but externally you try to act calm and composed, dabbing at the corner or you mouth delicately with a napkin.

“Oh yeah!” His face lights up. Oh thank god. “Do you like football? Me and my buddies at the office sorta formed this team, and we play against other departments. It’s really fun! You should come by and watch sometime!”

“Uh, sure!” Football. Huh. The last time you were anywhere near a football was when you met someone from your college team at a bar. Well he wasn’t holding a football per se, but that counts right? You only remember how much of a douche he was, trying to hit on one of the girls from your group after getting entirely too wasted.

“Awesome! I’ll hit you up when the next game is set!” It’s almost impressive how he doesn’t notice all the tension emitting from your body. In fact, you have a feeling he’s actually enjoying himself and your company.

The rest of the dinner goes by in the same manner. With him happily answering all your questions and you slowly discovering just how little you both have in common.

He is a gentleman though, that you can’t deny. When all the food has been cleared away he immediately swoops in to pay the bill, ignoring your insistence at paying for your half at least. He really isn’t a bad person, just the opposite. Besides your difference in interests, he is a sweet guy overall, and you do find him to be physically attractive. There’s just no spark, no silver lining that keeps you wanting more. When you both get out of your seats he offers to drive you back to your place but you politely decline. You say it’s because you don’t want to trouble him but in reality you need space for yourself to think.

As soon as you arrive home you take off your shoes and plop yourself down on the couch, running your hands through your hair. You check your phone, a few notifications from ‘Hazel’s Nuts’ popping up.

Scarlet: Do you think she’s done with her date yet??

Hazel: Hey Y/N how was it?

You had told them about this date beforehand and they were excited to root for you, which did bruise your ego a bit since it reaffirmed your unreturned attraction to them, but also prompted you to go through with it. This last notification was from 45 minutes ago but you couldn’t reply since you were still at dinner.

You: hi I just got back!

You don’t expect them to respond right away but to your surprise:

Scarlet: And???

You: it was meh

Hazel: That bad huh?

You: no nothing like that!

You: he’s really cute and all, it’s just we basically have nothing in common

Scarlet: Aww poor Y/N (sad emojis)

Hazel: Hey happens to the best of us

Hazel: Actually I wouldn’t know cause I’ve only been with fox boy

You: thanks anyway, i appreciate it Hazel

Maybe it’s cause you’re a little tipsy, or maybe you just feel so open and vulnerable around them tonight, but the next text you send is especially honest.

You: ughhh idk guys i’m just so lonely!!! why can’t things just work out for me for once! Like the first real date I go on in years and this happens :(

They don’t respond for a long time. So long in fact you start to get worried that you exposed too much about yourself.

15 minutes pass by but to you it feels like hours. You’ve already removed all your makeup and changed into your pajama shirt. You relocate to your bed, checking your phone again, thinking of a way to play off your last text as a joke when:

Hazel: If you’re so lonely maybe you could adopt?

You grin to yourself, glad that they’re not being judgmental. Their concern for you resets your mood.

You: ha ha you know my apartment doesn’t allow pets

You: but honestly if i could i would, cause i’d definitely get a little kitty

Hazel: I’m flattered

You: thanks but i meant a real cat

Hazel: Either way i’m flattered

Scarlet: HEY what about foxes??

You: pretty sure owning a pet fox is illegal here Scar

Scarlet: (angry emojis)

Hazel: You heard what the lady said

You: anyways i’m going to bed

You: thanks for making me feel better guys <3

Hazel: Anytime

Scarlet: But hypothetically if foxes weren’t illegal you’d get a pet fox right??

You: of course i would sweetie

Scarlet: (happy emojis)

Scarlet: Yay!!! Goodnight Y/N!

Hazel: Night Y/N

You: night boys

You wake up next morning on your own time, checking your phone to see that you slept in till 11am. Wow, you haven’t slept that well in a while. Maybe it’s the stress from the previous weeks of non stop working, or the pressure to maintain your composure last night, but either way you knocked out like a rock. You sit up, lean back, and stretch your arms as far as they can go.

Today you’re meeting Karli at her place up north. She couldn’t ask you about last night since she was occupied, her seven year anniversary with her boyfriend Sunny coinciding with your date. But she assured you a couple days ago over facetime that today was going to be a girl’s day, no boyfriend included.

“Hey!” Sunny had popped out of nowhere in the video when he heard the news, a look of mock shock on his face. “I live here too! So what, you're just gonna kick me out of the house and leave me on the streets to starve?”

“My god stop being dramatic!” Karli had shoved him playfully off the screen. “I need girl time with Y/N and it’s not girl time if you’re in the house.”

“I can be one of the girls! Right Y/N?” He sounded betrayed.

“I know you can but I’m not the one who makes the rules.” You pointed out.

He sighed. “You got me there.”

Since you’re just spending time at Karli’s and getting takeout, you felt zero need to dress up. You washed your face, threw on an oversized t-shirt some old hookup left at your place (hey it was cute) and some tights, and tied your hair out of your face. This entire process took less than 30 minutes and next thing you know you’re ready to head out.

You sent Karli a quick text, letting her know you’re on the way. You grab a bottle of prosecco, your purse, and keys, saying a quick goodbye to your roommate Ayah on your way out. She gives you a small wave, reminding you that she, yet again, has to leave today for a whole week. You backtrack to give her a quick goodbye hug, telling her to drive safe, before you take off.

Karli’s place isn’t as far as the beach coffeehouse you frequent, but it’s still located in the wealthier side of town. The drive lasts a good 20 minutes but it feels a lot faster since you spend the whole time singing along to your favorite songs.

You pull up to Karli’s apartment complex, driving yourself to the guest parking space. Her apartment building is pretty tall, with a distant, but gorgeous view of the beach. 

Karli squeals when she opens the door, immediately giving you a big hug. When you break apart you hold up the bottle of prosecco in your hand, waving it in front of her face.

“I know you have the ingredients here so let’s make some spritz!”

“Yay!”

Aperol spritz is your favorite at-home drink to make with Karli. She had gone on a short trip to Italy in the summer between her two years at grad school and tried the drink there, completely falling in love. She googled the recipe, made it for you one day, you had said “Oh FUck that’s good!”, and the rest is history.

She grabs the bottle and quickly relocates it to her kitchen. Her energy levels are sky high today and you wonder what’s got her so elated. She’s skipping everywhere she goes, there’s a permanent smile etched on her face, and she’s humming non stop as she pulls you away from the front entrance.

Sunny emerges from the hallway, two hands in the air in surrender.

“I’m heading out, I swear!”

Sunny is a big teddy bear of a man, with tattoos splayed across his arms and a well-kept beard. There’s a term you learned online called ‘lumbersexual’ and that’s exactly the word to describe Sunny. He almost reminds you of Jason Momoa, the actor who played Aquaman. Those who just meet him think he looks intimidating at first but once you get past his height and size, you see just how much of a softie he is. He’s also extremely intelligent, working somewhere in the computer industry developing software.

Karli bounds over to him and gives him a big snuggly hug and tiptoes all the way up to give a quick kiss to his lips.

“Have fun babe! Love you!”

“Love you too! Also bye Y/N!”

“Bye Sunny have fun!” You smile as he treads out the door.

You both head to the kitchen and start making your drinks.

“Aren’t you extra chipper today!” You mention as you pour a splash of club soda into your glass.

“Am I?” She doesn’t look at you, wearing a mysterious grin, stirring her mixture with a straw.

After you both finish making your drinks, you head to her living room and settle onto her plush sofa.

Karli yawns, almost too dramatically, covering her left hand over her mouth. You quirk your eyebrow at her, wondering why she’s acting so weird until you spot it. There’s something large, something shiny, on her left ring finger.

“Oh my god….” Your entire mouth hangs open. “Oh my GOD!!! Is THAT…?”

“Yep!”

“Did HE -?”

“Yep!!”

“AND YOU - ?

“YEP I DID!!”

“YOU’RE ENGAGED?!?!?!”

“I KNOW!!!!”

What happens after is a shriek rivaling that of a pterodactyl taking flight after spotting prey, except the sound is just the two of you screaming and jumping up and down in Karli’s living room.

You bring her into a tight hug, so emotional that you’re about to tear up. And you’re not one to cry that easily.

“I’m so happy for you!” You pull apart and wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“Thank you! I’m so happy too!” Her smile is also a little watery. “Like I knew he was gonna do it soon since we’ve been together so long but I’m still shocked you know?”

“I know!” 

“And I’m sorry. Today was supposed to be me asking about your date last night.” She dabs at her eyes. “Bryce really likes you too. He even texted me thanking me for introducing you!!”

“Oh shit...” You take this chance to drink your Aperol spritz. “I’m gonna be completely honest with you. It’s true he’s cute but there was no spark.” You give her an apologetic grin, knowing she really wanted this to work out for you. “Like don’t get me wrong he’s super nice and stuff but I just couldn’t find anything we have in common. I can’t believe he’s still into me?!” 

“Aw I’m sorry babe.” She pouts. “I really did think you would be a good match.”

“It’s ok. Anyways,” you wave her off, bringing up the more important subject at hand. “I’d much rather talk about your engagement! Like, hello?? You’re getting married, girl!!

Another squeal. You really hope her neighbors don’t complain.

“I know!! I literally don’t know what to think!” She smiles wistfully, like she’s on cloud nine, then brings her attention back to you. “Also you’re the maid of honor and you can’t back out of that.”

“I would never!” You gasp dramatically, one hand clutching your chest.

“But don’t worry!” She sets her drink down. “The wedding’s not happening till next year at least. We don’t have to start planning till way later.”

The rest of the day you spend chatting to Karli, prompting her to spill every single detail about the proposal. Even though you have no need to help her plan a wedding just yet, you can’t hold back from offering some ideas that spring to mind.

“I got it!!” You shout.

“You got what?”

“Hear me out,” you may or may not be a little tipsy at this point. “Goth wedding!” You say with jazz hands. Then you reach down to take another sip of your drink.

“Hmm…” She pretends to think about the idea, then giggles. “And that’s enough prosecco for you.” Plucking the glass out of your hand, she transfers it to her kitchen sink.

A couple more hours roll by. You both decide to watch a cheesy Netflix horror movie to sober up, paired with the Mexican takeout you ordered. By the time the credits roll, the sun has long since set, along with your alcohol buzz. You check the time on your phone, deciding it’s best to head home since poor Sunny has been respectfully out and about all day, giving you your girl time.

You give Karli one last big hug, murmuring into her hair how happy you are for her situation. She walks you to the apartment elevator, where you proceed to blow her a swift kiss right before the doors close in your face.

Reality sets in the moment you’re alone. Your head swims with thoughts as you drive back. Most of them are happy about your best friend’s engagement but you can’t discount the little ugly bubble of jealousy that wells down deep in your gut, reminding you of your own current situation. It’s not until you reach home that you realize you didn’t even play music in the car.

Ayah has long since gone on her business trip by the time you arrive at your apartment. The whole place looks dark and unwelcome, only highlighting the emptiness you feel inside. You trudge to your room and slump onto your bed. You try to scroll through social media as a way to distract yourself but you’re met, instead, by all the pictures and posts of happy people, showing off their achievements or bragging about their seemingly perfect lives.

You immediately lock your phone and throw it onto the blanket, the stress and anxiety from the last few months building to a boiling point in your mind. Your biggest concern is you still haven’t figured out your lease situation, and you only have two more months to move out or find someone new. Ayah has tried her best to help you but she’s bombarded by business trips so no luck so far. You let out a small groan and bury your head in the pillow, deciding to sleep it off and worry about your problems tomorrow, even though it’s not even that late.

Right as you’re about to drift off into dreamland, your phone rings. You fumble around the covers until it’s in your hands and check that you have a facetime call from your two favorite boys.

Immediately your body jerks awake and you sit up, swiping the answer button.

“Hey guys!”

“Hi Y/N!!” Scarlet’s heart-shaped smile is taking up most of the screen but you can see a sliver of white and grey hair behind him.

Hazel elbows him out of the way. “Sorry were you sleeping?” He tilts his head, ears twitching. “Wait, it’s only 10 pm where you’re at. You never sleep this early.”

“No I wasn’t... I mean, yeah I was trying to sleep but…”

You sigh. It’s their faces. Just seeing them through a screen, their wide, innocent eyes blinking up at you, makes you want to spill everything.

You nibble on your bottom lip for a moment. “I was just kinda having an existential crisis so I decided to sleep it off. No biggie.”

Scarlet’s eyebrows furrow in concern. After only two months, he can already tell when something is off with your tone of voice.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” He looks up for a bit, pausing to think. “Was it the date last night?”

“The date?” Oh yeah the date. Yet another thing that didn’t go well. You totally forgot about that can of worms. “Not really… or actually kinda?”

You try to reorganize your jumbled mess of a brain and put your thoughts into words.

“So you know how I said I was going to Karli’s today?”

“Mhm,” they nod at you to continue.

“Well turns out she got engaged last night.”

“That’s awesome! I’m so happy for her!” Scarlet bounces a little, then quickly returns to a more serious tone. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Yeah I’m happy for her too.” And you genuinely are.

You pause for another moment, teetering on the edge of playing your emotions off like it’s no big deal or exposing all of your concerns yet again. Your need for an outlet to vent to wins in the end. For the first time you find yourself unable to confide in Karli because you want her to be happy and focus on the engagement rather than to be preoccupied with you. Before you know it, the words flow from your mouth like running water.

“It’s just that her announcement really brought me back to earth, and I started thinking a little too much about my own life.” You purse your lips. “I don’t know… I feel pretty selfish right now because she’s doing so well and I just can’t help comparing my life to hers. I’m so proud of her but it’s like everything in her life is coming together and I just want that for me also.” You throw your hands up in frustration, almost knocking the phone off from where it leans on your pillow. “I mean we’re the same age for god's sake! Why can’t I get my shit together??”

“Well you should be proud of yourself though,” Hazel cuts in. “Cause we are.” He gestures to Scarlet and himself.

“Yeah!” Scarlet chimes. “I mean you’ve got a full time job and a place to stay. I know you don’t feel like it’s the most ideal situation right now but please don’t discredit yourself.”

“Thanks guys.” You calm down a bit, but then you remember the whole issue with your apartment. Scratching the back of your neck, a habit you’ve picked up whenever you’re nervous, you say in a much smaller voice, “although my ‘place to stay’ might not last much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Both boys’ eyebrows are raised in confusion.

You realize you never mentioned your living situation to them, the topic always pushed to the back of your mind whenever they initiated conversation.

“Yeah.” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “My lease ends soon and Ayah wants to move to a place of her own. And I have two months to figure out where to live or find another roommate.” You let out a frustrated huff. “She’s been so helpful but still no luck I guess.” You shrug in defeat.

You feel like a balloon that’s lost all its air, brain exhausted from running through all the problems in your life.

“Actually that’s pretty convenient for- ” Scarlet starts, but is elbowed again in the ribs by Hazel. “Ow!”

“Not yet!” The cat hisses quietly to him.

“Huh?” Now you’re confused. What in the world are they talking about?

Hazel turns back to you. “I’m really sorry about everything Y/N. If there’s anything we can do to help please let us know.” 

“Thanks buddy.” You offer him a small smile, choosing to ignore what just happened since they clearly don’t want to reveal anything just yet. 

Hazel then shifts to a more nervous stance, ears slightly flattening and both hands grabbing his floofy grey tail for comfort. It’s the cutest goddamn thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So Y/N, um, there’s a reason we called you tonight.”

You’re glad for a change in subject, a much needed distraction away from your downward spiraling thoughts.

“Oh right! Yeah. What’s up guys?”

Scarlet steps in front of him again, blocking most of the screen.

“We have a surprise for you!” He’s so close to the camera that you can only see half of his unblemished face but from the way his eyes crinkle, you can tell he’s giddy with anticipation.

“A surprise- ?”

“Yeah!!”

Hazel nudges himself into view again. “Quit hogging the whole screen fox! I swear to god next time we’re using the tv. I can’t see anything! Anyways,” he turns to you and smooths his shirt, expression back to stoic, “are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why?” You’re still a little lost on what the surprise is.

“Cause we’re coming back to town!” Scarlet blurts out.

“You are?!” Suddenly all your negativity melts away, replaced by excitement. Hard to believe just five simple words can shift your mood a complete 180°.

“But wait, there’s more!” You snort at how much Scarlet sounded like an infomercial just now.

“We’d like to invite you to dinner next Saturday night. If that’s ok with you?” Hazel isn’t as physically expressive as Scarlet but the hopeful shine in his eyes gives himself away.

You melt at his expression, heart rate speeding up. “Of course that’s ok! I’d love to!”

“Great!” He flashes one of his rare gummy smiles. “Saturday night. 7 pm. We’ll text you the details.”

“Yep!” Scarlet pipes in. “There’s something important we gotta ask- !” He lets out a small gasp, tail bristling, and clamps a hand over his mouth as if he just said something he shouldn’t have.

“What’s important?” You’ve gotta admit, your curiosity is at its peak right now, and it doesn’t help that they’re acting a little weird today.

Hazel rubs his temples in exasperation, groaning at Scarlet. “What part of ‘not yet’ did you not understand?” He then addresses you. “Sorry Y/N I promise we’ll tell you when we see you in person.” 

“Ok.” Cool. That’s fine. You’re a little nervous about what they have to say and it’ll be torture to wait but you’re a big girl and you can handle not knowing for a week. “I can’t wait to see you guys!!” you added.

“Me too!” Scarlet’s personality is so bubbly and contagious that you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Same.” Hazel lets out a small yawn. “Well we’re in a different time zone than you and it’s really late here so I gotta hit the hay.”

“Mk, go get your beauty sleep.” You give them a little wave. “And thanks for everything. I mean it.”

“No problem Y/N.” Scarlet also gives off a yawn, stretching his tired limbs. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

After ending the facetime call, you lie on your back, staring at the ceiling. Your mind is active once again, but this time it’s not clouded with self-deprecating thoughts. Instead, you spend the remainder of the evening theorizing about the ‘important’ things the boys have to tell you. Maybe you’ll finally find out their real names. Or maybe they’ll reveal something else about themselves, like why they’re constantly travelling, or what they actually do for a living. Either way you can’t wait for next Saturday to come around.

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[dzifasblog]

Chapter 4

Read from Chapter 3

It would be a bit of a stretch to say no one had ever rejected me . Yet, it did not happen often and it did not happen when I like like someone. Not only was I rejected but I was also friend zoned. Which is crazy because I usually did the zoning. Everything comes back full circle indeed. It had been a week since I had my ego bruised and I have to say, I was being a big girl about it. With Darcy's friend shooting the cheer "movie", she was left alone a lot of the time. Time she usually spent with me....because we're friends now.

Kill me now!!

Not that I don't enjoy her company. Au contraire, being near her all the time. Listening to her silly jokes, hearing her laugh and the way she would get pa Her boyfriend is one lucky bitch.

I was currently sitting in the house's common room, making use of the uncharacteristic quiet. Seemed like there was some party I was not invited to because the whole house was almost empty. It didn't bother me much; but as time ticked on and Darcy still hadn't made an appearance I became more and more curious.

Darcy did not strike me as a party girl. and her friend could not have dragged her because she had a meeting with Mimi today. (Yes I had learnt the schedule to see what times I could be with Darcy, yes I am a simp.) It took everything in me not to barge out and go look for Darcy: 1. We hadn't made any plans and 2. It would be plain weird. So I stayed my ass in the chair.

A couple of minutes after trying to focus of the copy of Shakespeare in my hand. The door to the common room burst open to reveal Kaitlyn, one of the girls in the opposite dorm. Putting her hands on her knees (thot shit), she tried catching her breath.

"Boys, " she panted. "The boys are here."

So this is why she ran?

All of a sudden it hit me. Darcy hadn't ditched me, she was busy with her boyfriend. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, she hadn't ditched me and that gave me semblance of peace(??) And on the other hand she was with her boyfriend, someone who I didn't need to see to hate.

I was so engrossed in weighing the pros and cons of my love life. (if you can even call it that) That I hadn't realized Kaitlyn had been speaking until Darcy's name came up.

"What did you say about Darcy, sorry I'm hard of hearing" I needed to not come of as too curious.

"Her boyfriend came in a car and brought her a bouquet of flowers," Kaitlyn swooned.

"How do you know that?" It wasn't strange for guys to bring presents to their girlfriend. But I doubt Darcy announced it to the whole school.

"He came in a car, with his friends. He's like a year older," Kaitlyn spoke so animatedly. "He got out of the car with this huge ass bouquet and got on one knee and everything." After narrating the story complete with hand gestures. she fell onto the chair opposite me with all the drama of a Disney princess.

"How romantic," I deadpanned.

"I know right" Kaitlyn sighed completely oblivious to the sarcasm. "I wish someone would do that for me." Men would do the bare minimum and hetero girls would swoon. The bar was in the absolute pits of hell. Also, I doubt Darcy liked all the fanfare around the bouquet of flowers and their delivery. I needed to go see all this for myself.

Standing up I dusted imaginary dust of myself and moved to put the book back in its place. Kaitlyn was still sprawled in the chair with a goofy smile on her face. I do not know what would have happened if she been the one to get flowers. I wanted to say goodbye to her but I doubt she would have heard it over her self-excitement, so I made my way out of the room.

I had not made it far when I heard someone calling my name. I turned to find my longtime friend and partner in crime Robin jogging towards me.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for your bitch ass everywhere." Robin and I had been friends for as long as I can remember. Our mothers had been bestfriends and roommates in the same sorority house. Our friendship was a given. We lived on the same street, went to the same school and did almost everything together.

We even came out together, him as bisexual and me, as lesbian. This broke our parents who had hoped we would end up together hearts but they got over it. Or at least I think they did.

Ignoring his question, I asked one of my own. "Why is my school crawling with degenerates from your school?"

"Wait you didn't know?" He furrowed his eyebrows in genuine confusion. "We're having some lame ice breaker. Never wrote to you cause I thought this was something you'd have been all over."

"I've been busy," I shrugged.

"Busy doing what?"

"You knowww....this and that" He looked confused. I wanted so desperately to share this whole Darcy thing with someone else but the thought scared me. I don't know what of, but the thought of another person knowing terrified me. Maybe it was the shame of being friend zoned.

"Is it a girl?"

"Wh..what...no" Hesitating and stuttering through your answer is never a good thing. I cast my eyes to the ground to avoid Nico's.

"Uh huh" Was all he said, not buying my bull.  "You know what I think?..." I didn't get to find out what he thought because just then the loud revving of a motorcycle cut through the air, demanding everybody's attention. I looked down to the park in front of out hostel to see one big motorcycle flanked by two smaller ones. I guess the big one belonged to the head honcho.

"Ghost riders," Robin said, coming to stand beside me. "Ninja name, trash guys."

I giggled at that. "I'm guessing they don't tickle your fancy." I teased.

Robin just rolled his eyes at me. "They are bad news, like really really bad news. Like gang shit, and not in a cool fun way but in an you could probably get killed way." My brows shot up at his statement. Gangs were nothing new but high schoolers in a gang would be pretty bad. Imagine being this hormonal and having the equipment necessary to kill.

"That sounds bad,"

"Bad? Try awful. I stay 5 feet away from them all the damn time, I will not be caught up in any of their shit. Not even by accident." Robin was usually very dramatic but something told me he wasn't exaggerating.

Suddenly, the girls seemed to burst out in cheers, I looked down to see the head honcho lip locking with Darcy.

My Darcy! My grip on the railing tightened hard, and I tried leaning forward to get a better look but I felt a hand pull me back. I turned ready to give Robin a piece of my mind before catching myself. Did I really like Darcy enough to yell at Robin?

Robin had one eyebrow arched at me. "I know I said some stuff but you look ready to end him"

I cast one more look at the park and grabbed Robin's hand and started dragging him to the common room where no one would see or hear us. There I spilled my guts about everything till now. Robin sat there quietly listening to me ramble on and on. It felt good to get it all out.  When I was done, he had a very Joker like smile on his face and for once I was grateful he would eventually have to leave.

"I've seen a lot of strange things in my day," he started. "But I have never seen anyone get under your skin so fast."

"You don't get it, she's just amazing" I argued.

"Look at you with heart eyes," Robin teased. I punched him in the arm. "Stop it"

"Ok, ok," he laughed. "Look, I know you think you've met the love of your life but you might want to pace yourself a little. I mean do you really know this girl? Like know know her? She was kissing one of the ghosts for crying out loud."

"I know her," Sort of. "I know she would never be mixed up in some illegal shit." Robin had raised some good points but I knew Darcy would never get mixed in any illegal activities. Or would she?

"How do you know?" Robin asked

"I....I just do, ok?" But did I?

"All things you know about Darcy are very surface level things-"

"I wouldn't consider knowing the way she looks when she comes surface level," I interrupted.

Robin shot me a look but continued anyway. "Why don't you take sometime to get to know her better, like where she's from and where she met her terrible boyfriend." He was right, I knew he was right and judging from the look on his face, he knew that I knew he was right. "Besides," he continued. "You and her are not together so use this friend zone wisely."

"Gah, fine." I hated playing the waiting game, I'm not known for my patience.

"Good," Robin pat my head. " Let's go, I need to get back to school as soon as possible."

"Alright" With that we left the common room and made our way downstairs. I walked Robin over to his ride, a 6'5 muscular guy I was 85% sure he was fucking. "See ya later, alligator." Robin yelled as the car took off.

"You're such a loser." I yelled back as the car disappeared behind the gates.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I did not get to see the Fortnite extravaganza last night due to an encryption error on their servers. It was more something to stay out of trouble than anything. I did place number one earlier for the first time ever after a year of playing. But this is probably mostly due to the performance of the machine I've built and upgraded over time. I've learned to understand in almost everything when it is not about me. Being an optimist in a hopeless situation trains you to look on the bright side. The bright side these days is that home on the inside is mostly private. I did have to fight off a wasp that flew down the venting in my bathroom before the broadcast. It's an old house I tell myself. Then I decide to leave my apartment and wait for the bus to go to the Home Depot. Maybe I wanted to build a real fort? I really just wanted to get some bug spray and some more fly tape to deal with a problem myself. But waiting for the bus is a whole other problem these days. Especially when everybody seems to want to make your public appearance an excuse to chip away at your ego. I finished watching the Snowden movie last night. It was great timing. The quote about the Nuremberg trials is too real. How they tried the regular people next. The ones just doing their jobs. The other quote was something about pressure points. I have been under extreme pressure lately without much guidance or semblance of civil rights. I've complained about this weekly on a blog for years only to realize nobody really cares or understands the level of what I put up with. This sort of desensitizes you after awhile. You begin to accept that American society is just the way it is. Mostly because it is still run by rich white men who have figured out layers upon layers of gaslighting. I caught a small part of the Ronan Farrow documentary on HBO where he was being followed by Weinstein because of his work. He had interviewed a private eye who worked for a company called Blackcube. This private security company hired local detectives to get around issues with jurisdictions. The PI eventually turned to the FBI because he was disturbed about the work he was doing to the free press in America. The FBI asked his business then hung up on him. This is how it came to be that Ronan Farrow interviewed his surveillance. The gaslighting never goes away. There are so many reasons for people to watch you. So many special interests. So many mobs. Gangs. Powerful organizations. Snowden really buries the hatchet. What if the government you trust doesn't represent you anymore? What if it's caught doing the same bad things over and over like an abusive spouse? What can you do when the state department holds the key to your entire identity? If this sounds like the plot of a Bond film, it is more or less what I live from day to day. So it's better for me to lay low and keep focusing on crypto mining than write the play by play nobody would believe.

I write to make sense of something that is beyond broken. In that, it can be a little exhausting for everything to sort of work but not follow through. My passport delayed in the mail. A wasp crawling in from the attic into my bathroom as I get ready for a stream. Stores mysteriously closed and locked when I walk around the corner to get distilled water. Friends who text suspiciously a year later asking how I'm doing after they took my job. A thermostat that is set for 73 that on a good day reads 78. A cracked floor I'm afraid to say anything about for fear of the rent going up. A gang of neighbors who watch my every move but say nothing. A city full of gangs that assault me passively aggressively on the train on my way for groceries. I fear sometimes if I cry uncle that it would cut off the good parts. The secret communication and narratives that I have protected for the good of all things I care about. It's like the world says "if you can be free to do that, you've gotta let us be the judge." And after watching how the NSA and government literally tracks every literal thing you do, how can we call any of this freedom? It's a sales pitch I get it. Freedom to live in debt and be all that you can be. I don't live that way anymore at all. But I don't live much when I'm expected to stay in my home for over a year and pretend that the hidden plan will work out in my favor. I have no life to speak of other than my cat, a blog and some weird unstated agreement that gets hijacked, manipulated, intimidated, and pressured. You'd have to wonder who applies the pressure. If I had to put a finger back on it, it's a sad reality. It's not just the government. It's everyone. It's greed. It's selfishness. It is mediocre people scared of not being in control of anything you say or do that might upset the fragility of the lie this country is built upon. It's the sober reality that America is going off a cliff with nothing to show for it except a smile strained so fake it's starting to scare me. Nobody listens. Everyone points the blame. Everyone deflects. And I just sit here alone to some extent. No new friends other than the ones I write to from week to week. I do consider this space safe enough to say that. And yet I wonder how much anyone reads them. Do the people who follow me every time I walk out the door read these as deeply? Their reading comprehension must be garbage. What do I have to say to make it stop? What magic words do I have to say to reverse this invisibility? You were right? I'd rather stay invisible. This neighborhood walks around in trucker hats with crowns spelling out cocaine in bold italic as if it's the constitution. I'm supposed to lay low and realize the laws of the jungle. No opportunity. No jobs. No freedom. No justice. And a wasp flying around in my bathroom.

Will I be ok? My net income hasn't really changed since last fall. I'm sure this year will be a fun tax year. But it is the first time I own my own business with books to balance and spreadsheets to toggle. My health insurance works but the drama behind it is worse for wear. I'm more scared I might be hunted and murdered because someone is jealous of me than the fear of going broke. And even then for fear of it being used as a "CIA pressure point" I just shrug it off like a model on a catwalk. This experience for me is worse than hell. It's a silent wall of shame and coercion that makes this country feel like Nazi Germany. All the while the bully keeps telling you this is for the best. It's so much worse in other countries according to them. And if you speak up or rock the boat, they will find you. This is America 2021. A country that can't look itself in the mirror or read a paragraph or two to understand it has failed people like me. It just waits for us to die. To lay low in an epidemic of pure vapidity. It's no wonder I invest whatever I have overseas and in the future. I do believe there's no way to survive this alone. And yet I do believe that people pushing their way into my life year after year with nothing to show for it is worse. If we were being real about it, my resolve broke over a week ago. I submitted an anonymous tip to the FBI. I know I probably shouldn't write about it here. For fear of more retaliation. I'm more afraid of being stung by a wasp in the bathtub than a city I've suffered through for decades. But on the real, when enough is enough and there is no reply what can you rely on anymore? Yourself. I don't have a whistle to blow. I don't have an opinion that matters. And that is the lie about America. That any of this really means anything. That talking about it and explaining it succinctly on the internet changes anything when diabolic men still control everything. When women live in fear more than men can imagine. Fear of being harassed. Fear of losing control over their own body. Fear of competing for a livable wage. Fear of not being free in a country claiming to be the center of the universe. I don't know any other fight left to fight. As a man I see nothing but wrong, lies, evil and pain. Nobody looks in the mirror. Nobody starts to change things in themselves first. Nobody except me. Yeah, I'm laying low. It's 2021. The patriarchy is everywhere. They've learned to talk over you again with the same old double speak. What are you going to do about it? Here's an idea. Ready? Okay, $19 Fortnite card, who wants it? And yes, I'm giving it away. Remember; share, share share. And trolls, don't get blocked!" <3 Tim

[helihi]

Thoughts on RWBY Vol. 7

Quarantine day 20: I finally force myself to re watch volume 7 instead of doing my French homework.

Spoilers ahead for RWBY and How I Met Your Mother (yes).

Volume 7: The Story of a Broken Narrative Kingdom

The day has come where I finally sit down and watch the whole season again. Some of you wondered why I didn’t simply do a The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty review on the last episode of the volume like I did with the previous ones. The answer is the same reason why Ozpin’s speech at the end of the volume encapsulates the volume’s theme as a whole: finales affect the way you look at shows, comics, movies, and books. It provides a framing.

Did any of you watch How I Met Your Mother? For those of you who didn’t, it was a often called the show “which could replace Friends”. Something that you may not know is that fans of the show renamed it something among the lines of “How I should date your Aunt Robin” after the last episode aired. You see, the ending of the show changed the way most viewers see the show in the present.

The show had main character Ted Mosby narrate to his children how he met their mother. However, the story doesn’t begin during the day that encountered happen; no, it starts years before, when Ted declares he wants to settle down and find the love of his life. In that very same episode, he meets Robin Scherbatsky. In the end it’s revealed that the mother (the character we spent years speculating about) is dead (which I expected), and Ted asks his children if they give him the blessing to date their Aunt Robin. Originally, the fans could excuse episode 1 centering around Robin because it was the instance where Ted decided he wanted to settle down, but after the veil was lifted; there were no excuses, this whole story was a Ted’s way of convincing their children he should marry Robin, the main woman in his life during the whole show (even if we spend the last season on her wedding with one of Ted’s best friends).

Perhaps the ending of Volume 7 didn’t destroy the character development of 3 main characters, but it drastically changed the way I felt about the volume.

“The Kingdom of Atlas will remain safe, that’s my promise”- James Ironwood, Volume 7, Episode 1.

If you go back in my blog and read my reviews for most of the volume, you will find glowing ratings and stars. Anyone that knows me, knows that I love a good politics game in the shows/stories I read, so I was really excited when the writing team started developing that during the first half of the season.

Our gang (RWBY+JNOR+Q+M) reach Atlas after finding out that Oz is a fraud, that Salem cannot be beat (by Oz), and that Cinder almost took another maiden’s power. They quickly realize that Atlas is in a state of chaos and Ironwood is consumed by fear taking authoritarian measures, which keep the kingdom divided.

The stage is set:

 Ironwood, Winter, and the Ace Ops.

Robyn, the Happy Huntresses, and Mantle.

 Watts, Jacques, and Tyrian.

I thought the way everything was set was fantastic, I loved the political drama, and I thought the writers were taking their time properly. Even now I give huge kudos to the Schnee storyline, which is my favorite. The volume showed us how flawed Winter’s coping mechanism is, how Weiss is still susceptible to her father’s gaslighting and manipulation, and how the household isn’t just broken by Jacques (Willow apologists, pls read this).

However, the cracks started showing during the first episodes and I noted that on my reviews. We have characters used for exposition dump: from the Robyn supporter, that explains what we could’ve learned by the normal progression of the story, who gets killed as soon as he returns home, and other characters like Maria talking about Pietro while he’s standing right there.

In contrast to that, we get wonderful montages which show the passage of time. The kids interact with one another and the Ace Ops, they train, they help with Ironwood’s plan. It seems weird to have 2 different tools one after the other.

Also, it it weird for anyone that Qrow and Winter only interact 1 time during episode 2 when in Volume 3 a clear rivalry was established? Winter’s storyline was supposed to follow Penny’s, while Qrow was supposed to grow attached to Clover. Because these 2 characters had to reach a certain point in the story, they are not allowed to deviate from the interactions needed for the plot to advance.

Another thing occurred to me while re-watching the season again... Why is Ironwood so fixated in protecting Atlas when it’s floating in the air away from Grimm? Yes, we know that some Grimm can fly, but by the many times we see Mantle in chaos, you would think Ironwood would repair Mantle’s wall to keep it safe?

That’s the theme, guys, girls and nonbinary folks: a kingdom divided.

Just like the Atlas kingdom falls apart, the narrative of Volume 7 has a specific breaking point that marks the decline in quality (you can see that in my reviews). The moment everything went downhill starts in Episode 8, with the dinner at the Schnee Manor.

We spend much time developing the political tensions of the volume for Jacques to be promptly arrested and taken away from the scene in a second.

While Ironwood, Winter, Penny, and Clover are shown doing plot relevant stuff, team JNOR does that ridiculous gag to get Whitley out of Weiss’s hair.  The rest of the team do jackshit, and we don’t hear anything from them until everything is over. Again, the writers reached the plot point and forgot about everything else.

Also, Ruby looks sadly at Weiss when Whitley mentions that Klein was “let go”, yet Weiss has never talked about him to Ruby on screen. Claiming Weiss could’ve done that off screen strips away the possibilities of Weiss bonding with Ruby the same way she did with Yang when talking about their pain during Volume 5.

Such a large table, and only 4 council members, isn’t that kind of stupid? I mean, if Ironwood had 2 seats, numbers wise it makes sense, but who are those other 2 supposed to represent? Why haven’t we seen them before?

Robyn is told by Yang and Blake that Ironwood doesn't know who to trust. She proceeds to pressure him in front of people he clearly doesn’t trust. This is the first instance of OOC Robyn.

The walls crumbled, and everything became obvious as a viewer. Some other notable flaws:

Tension jojoing. The people in mantle will revolt! Except they aren’t. This happens in Episode 5, 6, and 9. The only real uprising is the last one. The other two were silly cliff hangers that make no sense when you watch the show again. (they didn’t make sense before either  and I complained).

Hey there, Watts! You may have an interesting backstory, except it’s only implied you are pissed off Penny got chosen as a major project instead of whatever yours was. Also, Paladin incident? What? If he is the main villain of the Volume, why not expand on him? I shouldn’t be surprised, Hazel and Tyrian are not that complex. And Cinder? It’s been 5 volumes and we barely know anything about her haha.

Robin! I love how civilized and smart you are when the volume started, choosing to observe and talk instead of acting against the main characters. How awful is it that you forget to keep your calm when a Serial killer is on the loose. It would be a shame if someone were to... die.

I already gave my 2 cents over Clover’s death, and I’m not going to repeat myself. I am sorry to all the Fair Game fans, I’m afraid bury your gays is till alive and well.

The nail on the coffin is the final episode: after making a speech about how Salem wants to divide people and how the only way to go is to remain united, James does the exact opposite thing the moment something doesn’t go according to plan. Don’t get me wrong, his PTSD regarding the queen chess piece was foreshadowed, but the moment team RWBY offer an explanation and identify the person behind it, he’s to far gone. Then, Salem shows up, and goes for Team RWBY when Ruby gets under her skin. This shows that Salem has a weakness and that Team RWBY can be trusted when it comes to defeating her, yet that is promptly ignored.

Also, Ironwood might be hurt about Yang and Blake talking to Robyn, but after everything, they were proven right: Robyn is to be trusted, Ironwood was making a mistake.

The whole setting up a trap to attract Tyrian wasn’t Ironwood going “mad with power” or something. Robyn knew he has lying and allowed Ironwood to catch someone who could hack everything. Not only that, but the camera zoomed in on Ironwood, so nobody could see Robyn’s handy Semblance going red. Or... maybe I’m looking too much into it and the writers expected you to forget.

Sorry, I guess James Ironwood had to take a bunch of stupid pills.

“I wish it didn’t have to end this way.” - Clover Ebi.

“It doesn’t have to, but the writers need that Branwen angst.” - Qrow Branwen.

Volume 7: Part 1 of the Atlas Arc

Have you ever heard of Checov’s gun? It is a dramatic principle that states that every element in a story must be necessary, and irrelevant elements should be removed. Elements should not appear to make "false promises" by never coming into play. Let’s play a game called the false promises of the volume that may carry over to volume 8?

Renora: Nora sides with Robin, Ren sides with Ironwood. They do not communicate with one another and the tension builds throughout the volume. They kiss, nothing gets resolved. Ren cries when Neo turns into Nora.

Training: Ren is shown to throw himself into the enemy as a flaw, he repeats the same mistake when fighting with Neo. Oscar’s Semblance is questioned, nothing comes out of it. Ruby’s Semblance is questioned, nothing comes out of it.

Cinder got beef with Atlas? For some reason, Cinder talks about Atlas hoarding power when speaking with Winter. Bitch, where the fuck do you come from? Who are you? Do I know you? Sorry, the writers forgot to write a growth arc for you. My bad.

Nora, daughter of Atlas? Can someone explain to me why she became a SWJ (/s) during this season? We never get a backstory of her previous to Kuroyuri and for some reason Nora is super attached to the people of Mantle. The daughter of Atlas title was thrown around, why?

It’s so nice to see tea FNKI back! Too bad they are there for 5 minutes and never show up again, not even when Mantle is supposed to be defended by all huntsmen. I guess this was fan service.

What’s the purpose of the Happy Huntresses? Isn’t it funny how the only one who got wounded by Tyrian is the only character who could see in the dark, but didn’t tell Robin that Penny wasn’t guilty? Hi Fiona, I don’t know why you exist.

Marrow: the butt of the joke. Since the first episodes, Marrow is shown as the outsider inside the Ace Ops: his teammates don’t take him seriously, Ironwood doesn’t think Marrow is up to the challenge of some missions, and he’s the only Faunus, the only one that seemed to sympathize with Robyn at the end. Too bad he wasn’t allowed to break his mold.

The World Building looks pretty, but it doesn't play the part.

I have to praise the art direction of this season. I was blown away by the aesthetics of Mantle clashing with Atlas, the details in the backgrounds, the world building by back messaging, screens, and posters. My favorite scene of the volume is the penguins in the tundra.

However, you have to walk the walk, and the writing team failed to deliver.

Racism: hey, I know you guys kinda messed up the White Fang’s internal struggles and opportunity to expand on Adam’s power grab and Sienna’s leadership, but maybe don’t skip the racist elements of Atlas? All we get are Faunus mine workers looking angry, that drunk dude who yelled at Blake and Marrow making a simplistic comment about politics. What...? What’s the point of acknowledging u are bad at writing racism and then do nothing about it? Did none of the new writers know how to tackle this?

In-World Continuity: Hey, wasn't the Vytal festival broadcasted to the entire world? When I saw that camera focusing on Yang on episode 1, I thought there would be a call back to what everyone saw her do during the finals, but nope. Let’s not bring that up again. ever. The only important thing about the Vytal Festival is the tower, move on.

Weapons upgrade: We were told that weapons were an extension of each huntsmen; too bad none of our gang actually work on them. Pietro makes all the modifications and repairs. I remember the bumblebee fans eager for a scene of Blake repairing Gambol Shroud, don’t tell me you’re not disappointed.

Atlas ball: not found. Hey! We have Jacques Schnee celebrating his fake victory on the elections! It would be a perfect moment to showcase the disconnect between what’s happening in Mantle and what the people in atlas thing. Too bad we didn’t wanna make extra character models.

--

Closing thoughts

I wanted to re watch the whole season again to see if the bitterness left on my lips after watching that chaotic finale went away, but it only grew. There are so many character choices that made no sense, so many scenes where characters stood around in the background doing nothing.

WHY THE FUCK DID OZPIN ONLY APPEAR AT THE END?

Oh, I’ll tell you why: he needed to give a speech about themes to justify the stupidity that happened during the last episodes to get to that cliff hanger.

I am disappointed in volume that seemed to be doing so good at the begging, but hey... at this point we shouldn’t be surprised, should we? Interestingly enough, the people who dreamed about the ball and the scenes of Blake fixing Gambol Shroud grew quiet after the episodes aired... 

Almost as if criticism wasn’t allowed on the RWBY tag.

AN: The titty window isn’t justified Salem, your ex is now a child that’s PEDO—

[theonceoverthinker]

Make a Secret Out of That! (Fair Game)

Summary: Atlesians may not tend to make secrets out of things, but Qrow's no Atlesian. And when a chance encounter happens between Clover and his bird form, Qrow strives to keep it that way!

AO3

A/N: Here’s my Day 3 submission for Fair Game Week!!! @fair-game-week

Not a lot to say this time, so let’s jump right in! Enjoy!!!!

()()()()()()()() The people of Atlas tended to not make secrets of much of anything – that was something Qrow learned very quickly after arriving there. Atlesians were chatterboxes first and people second far more often than not. And of the many topics they always made their viewpoints about known, one of the biggest was their overwhelming disdain for the Atlesian winds.

While Qrow went about 50/50 with what things he agreed with the Atlesian consensus about and not, he strongly found himself on the opposite end with this one.

Qrow loved the winds Atlas so generously provided. They were strong, sure, but while they could be annoying -- something Qrow knew very well thanks to a semblance that never quite knew when to shut up -- they were also freeing thanks to that same strength. 

But Qrow couldn’t exactly blame Atlesians for their problems with the wind. 

After all, unlike himself, they couldn’t fly.

The skies of Atlas provided Qrow with miles upon miles of uncluttered skies to swirl across, and with Qrow’s exercises in his bird form having the added bonus of strengthening him as a human, Qrow liked to take to those skies whenever possible.

It was during the late afternoons that he flew the most. Because most of his companions were out on missions during those times, Qrow could soar to his heart’s content without having to worry about being away should anyone call upon him and by that time, his missions for the day were often done. 

Qrow was never gone long – just an hour here and there – but compared to the confining and militant Atlesian Academy compound, that time and freedom was a godsend.

God, he’d never know how Clover -- another fan of the winds, by his own admission -- managed to stand spending so much of his life all cooped up there, sometimes days at a time from what he’d told him.

Clover…

His was a name that, regardless of his form or location, tended to show up a lot in Qrow’s thoughts lately.

He was a good guy, and he was starting to make Qrow feel like he himself was one too.

Qrow never believed he’d be able to deal with Clover Ebi, let alone actually get along with him after their awful first meeting.

But time had a funny way about changing his mind about a lot of things, and if he was grateful for that in regards to anything, it was about how much he now enjoyed Clover’s presence.

And speaking of…

“Qrow!”

Qrow was certain of few things in this world, but one of those few things that he was sure of was that because of a personality he could only describe as ‘loud,’ he’d never lose Clover in a crowd, much less a hallway where they were the only two around.

Apparently, the same could be said for Clover with him.

A kind smirk grew on Qrow’s face as he turned around to greet Clover, something that was quite common for him during their encounters now.

“You seem more chipper than usual,” Qrow said. “Didn’t even think that was possible.”

Clover flashed him a smile.

“Neither did I,” Clover teased, “but this morning, I saw something incredible, and I just can’t believe I got to see it.”

“Oh? What was that?”

“A crow!” 

It took all that Qrow had in him to keep his shock from betraying him.

Clover didn’t seem to notice, and continued. “Can you imagine it? A crow just sailing through the arctic like it was just any old piece of farmland. It was beautiful.” Wistfully, Clover sighed. In that moment, he looked for all the world like a lovestruck prince from one of those animated movies.

For a moment, Qrow found himself at a loss for how to proceed. Of course, he knew he wasn’t bound to secrecy over his alternate form’s existence. He never really had been. Ozpin had only suggested he keep quiet about it in the past, but any loyalty he had to Ozpin to keep that or any secret for that matter had long since expired.

He could tell Clover if he wanted to.

...It’s just that Qrow didn’t KNOW if he wanted to.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Clover. Hell, friends and allies he already knew included, he trusted Clover more than he trusted anyone in Atlas that wasn’t already part of his group.

No, what held Qrow’s tongue was the fact that frankly, he had not a damn clue just how to tell him the truth about it.

‘Oh yeah, that crow you saw? That was me. What? I didn’t tell you? I can turn into a bird!’

Clover was cool-headed, but Qrow had a feeling that no temperament could make news like that anything short of mindblowing, and Qrow was just not ready to have that or any kind of mindblowing conversation with Clover just yet.

And hey, just because Atlesians tended to not make secrets of things didn’t mean he couldn’t. 

So instead, Qrow swallowed that very secret with a chuckle. 

“Didn’t realize you were such a bird nerd.”

“I birdwatch a bit to relax,” Clover said. “They’re so graceful and adaptive. They’re just wonderful to watch. But never in all my years did I imagine I’d see a crow this far up north.”

Qrow bit his cheek. “Do you even get birds this high up?”

“A few, but there’s never been anything like a crow up here before. I can hardly believe my luck.” Clover looked at him and released a small chuckle, one that persisted for quite a long moment, one far longer than made sense even with all the wistfulness in the world.

“What up?” Qrow asked, unable to hold his curiosity back.

 “It’s just that I can’t help but get the feeling that you’re the one to thank for this.”

“Oh?”

“Well, your name IS Qrow, is it not? And just as you come to Atlas, a crow of all things takes to Atlas’ skies? That’s one hell of an amazing coincidence, and semblance or no, I try not to delude myself in putting much stake in coincidences.”

“You know,” Qrow pointed out, “crows are supposed to be a symbol of bad luck.”

Clover merely shrugged, which Qrow both loved and hated him for. “Where you see bad luck, I simply see life happening, and a crow in the arctic is a pretty wonderful example of life happening, if you ask me. Honestly, I’ve always wanted to study a crow. I just wish I could get closer to it.” Clover paused for a moment, and then clicked his tongue. “I’ve got an idea!” he continued. “I should set up a birdhouse for it. If it wants to stay in Atlas, it might like a nice little home to call its own. After all, it gets so cold up here.”

Qrow couldn’t help the smirk on his face from growing wider. “Says the guy with the sleeve allergy.”

“Not everyone shares my resistance to the elements, Qrow.” In that expectedly unexpected way that he did basically everything, Clover then flexed one of his sleeveless biceps in Qrow’s direction. Qrow waved it off, prompting the both of them to start laughing, but appreciated the firmness of it as his fingers made contact with his skin.

The memory of the point of contact stuck with him for seconds after it ended -- not long enough for Clover to take notice because of their laughter -- thank the Gods, but long enough that Qrow certainly did.

In all fairness though, how could it not?

Qrow forced himself to blink and get back to the conversation before Clover DID notice. After all, their laughter was dying down, and there were many things Qrow knew he could make a secret of.

Flirting was not one of those things, not with Clover, in any event.

“So,” Qrow said, “are you going to build one?”

Clover shook his head. “Power tools and I have never gotten on. You should’ve seen me when I was making Kingfisher. I did a great job, don’t get me wrong, but never again. How those metal shears didn’t take off more than an inch of my hair is something that for once I can only attribute to my semblance.” Qrow laughed at the comment, and Clover gave him a not-at-all serious glare, a first for them in reverse. “No,” he huffed, though only for that word, “there’s a gardening store in Mantle that is supposed to have a nice selection of things that will be perfect for our little friend. I’ll just go there. They should have everything I need. A birdhouse, birdseed, a water dispenser.”

“You should get blankets, too,” Qrow interjected. 

“Blankets?”

Qrow shrugged. “You said it yourself – it’s cold up here. The crow might not be warm enough there with just the wood protecting it. Don’t they normally live in warmer climates, after all?”

Clover nodded, biting the inside of his cheek and wagged his finger in a praising fashion. 

“Good point,” he said, giving way to a smile. “You know, you should come and help me set it up. You’re not bad with this kind of stuff.”

“Trying to butter me up?”

“Depends – is it working?”

Yes, it was.

Qrow didn’t answer, just groaning in a way that he hoped would be taken as genuine, though Clover’s face told him point blank that it wasn’t.

Oh jeez, what did he just sign himself up for?

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell the truth now...someday, but not on the day he basically commissioned a second home for himself.

Looks like he and Clover were even more opposited than Qrow thought.

But all the same, opposites did attract, and Qrow found himself still grateful for that.

“Let’s just get the stupid birdhouse,” he mumbled, walking towards the closest exit with Clover happily following behind.

()()()()()()()()()

Semblances weren’t magic.

Maiden powers weren’t magic.

Whatever abilities Ozpin and Salem had weren’t magic.

Naps, now THOSE were magic.

Who knew an after-fly nap could be so nice?

Well, Qrow DID know, but his schedule had lately not given time for such naps, so he forgot just how much they could do for his tired, tired body.

But that birdhouse of Clover’s just gave him a very pleasant reminder.

He’d have to find a way to say thanks...a way that didn’t involve revealing himself because BOY was he even less ready now to have that conversation with Clover than he was the day he had first been spotted.

‘Thanks for building me a birdhouse! Yeah, you didn’t know? I’m that crow you just spent an afternoon perching that birdhouse on your windowsill for! Funny, right?’

...Qrow was going to pass on that for now.

...In his defense, there were worse things to make secrets of.

“Qrow!”

Clover’s call had Qrow spin around to greet him, his breath somewhat hitched.

He had a funny feeling about what Clover was about to tell him, and it wasn’t funny in a ‘haha’ way.

“I was looking all over for you! You missed the crow in the birdhouse! He took a nap, and it was so cute! And now he’s gone.”

Qrow smirked apologetically. “Sorry, I was…otherwise occupied. But I know you took a million pictures on your scroll, so show me those. I’ll get the idea.”

Clover pouted, muttering about how Qrow was a total spoilsport, but the pout dissolved as he obliged Qrow’s request.

As Qrow looked at the pictures of himself nestling within the birdhouse’s blankets, he found that it was a struggle not to blush. He didn’t know why – after all, Clover didn’t know it was Qrow who was the subject of his little pet project. 

But someone watching him sleep, even for reasons as innocent as Clover’s were, was so embarrassing.

However, he could admit that he did look pretty cute sleeping in that birdhouse…

And the fact that Clover found it equally cute was nice as well…

Maybe this was a secret kept for the best after all.

()()()()()()

“We’re talking. Now.”

Qrow blinked. Clover had been a lot of things towards him, but forceful was never one of them. But as he stomped into the room Qrow was relaxing in and glared at him while insisting upon this conversation, seemingly argumentative than Qrow ever believed Clover was able to be argumentative at anything, ‘forceful’ was the only real way Qrow could put it.

He felt cornered -- not in danger by any means, but cornered nonetheless.

And in all honesty, he knew this conversation was coming, and after their last battle had finally exposed the one thing he hoped would be in no hurry to be exposed, it was coming fast.

Karma was a bitch.

“You...that crow...the one I’ve been watching and buying things for...was you?”

It was a simple accusation, one with an even simpler answer, one that Qrow wanted nothing more than to not give.

But the jig was up, and he’d already digged himself into a deep enough hole as it was already.

Now was the time to start climbing himself out.

“Yeah.” Qrow elongating through the word as if it would bore Clover into dropping the subject.

Of course, he knew Clover better than that, but he couldn’t be blamed for trying, right?

...Right?

“You can turn into a bird?” Clover asked, his tone far more neutral now.

Qrow simply nodded this time.

“No.”

His tone was still strangely neutral.

“Yeah,” Qrow eased, his voice stuck somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

“No.”

“Yeah.” This time, he let himself take a bit more pride.

Finally, Clover seemed to have had enough.

“I can’t believe it! It was you! All along, it was you, and you lied to me about it!”

Despite the fact that it was true, Qrow couldn’t help but laugh. He’d never seen Clover’s face so red, but here it was, its shade as crimson as Qrow’s eyes.. 

“You suck!” Clover cried. But even as he spoke, Qrow could see his face betraying him, his glare and frown threatening to crumble.

Maybe he could use that to his advantage…

Qrow made a face filled to the brim with mock hurt and placed his hand to his heart. “Is that any way to talk to the brave bird who saved your life? Those Grimm would’ve killed you if I hadn’t distracted them! You should consider yourself lucky.” To add a finishing blow, Qrow sent a smirk Clover’s way, and before Clover could truly start this confrontation, he was done in.

Noiseless breaths of laughter heaved out of Clover’s chest. He placed his hand to his face. 

“You’re the worst,” he groaned, words muffled through his hand.

Placing a hand on Clover’s defeated shoulder, Qrow rubbed away.

“Nah,” he said. “I’m just a bit better at keeping a secret than you Atlesians. You’re just not used to someone as sly and cool as me hanging around here. Takes time.”

After a long pause filled with more noiseless laughs, Clover separated his face and hand, now smiling and conspicuously calm. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, shrugging. “I’ll just have to learn to be as cool. And hey, maybe you can teach me. You are after all my favorite little birdie.”

Instantly, any satisfaction or pride Qrow took from his confrontation less victory was wiped away.

No one had ever called him ‘birdie.’ Even Raven -- the one person he could always count on for insults -- wasn’t that cruel.

But apparently Clover was.

And Qrow would be lying if he said that it wasn’t a fitting punishment.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t an annoying one, and Qrow couldn’t even try to make a secret out of that.

He groaned, and now it was his turn to bridge the gap between his own hand and face.

“That is awful, and I hate you for using it,” he grumbled. 

Clover let out a hearty laugh at his pain, prompting him to squeeze his shoulders against his ears in a failed attempt to drown the laughter out.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, playing far too innocent. “What’s so awful, birdie?”

Qrow’s expression and tone grew deadpan. “I suddenly regret saving your life. You’re not seriously gonna keep using that, are you?”

While Qrow couldn’t see Clover, he could feel Clover’s heat radiating off of him stronger than he had ever felt it before. While he could only take a guess as to where Clover was, a whisper against his left ear put any doubt to bed.

“I think you know. After all, you know us Atlesians hardly make secrets out of anything, birdie.”

[fleckcmscott]

Watch What Happens - Chapter 17

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Angst, Swearing, Brief mention of Violence

Words: 1,487

A/N: This chapter was beta’d by @ithinkimawriter​, and she has graciously agreed to beta the rest of this work! Karen’s not just been a simple beta, though. She’s talked me through plot points, given me encouragement, and without her, this story wouldn’t be where it is. (She’s going to deny the size of her impact, LOL.) She’s a great person and you should all go read her stuff!

Arthur was good at taking a beating. At an early age, he’d learned to cover his groin and his head. But the experiences that had taught him what parts of his body to protect hadn’t prepared him for being punched in the face by his presumed father. It had been one of the worst hits he could remember receiving. He’d only been distracted from the white hot pain by the ache in his chest.

Standing at his kitchen sink, he nursed his sore nose with ice wrapped in a dishtowel. The bleeding had finally stopped. He would still have to get the stains out of his gray cardigan and button-up, though. Gently, he took hold of the bridge of his nose and moved his hand from side to side. He winced, breath catching. At least it didn’t seem to be broken. He laughed softly, shaking his head.

Rejecting Y/N’s offer to join her at her apartment had been a mistake. All he’d done Wednesday night was lay in bed with the news in the background, burying his face in a pillow while wishing it was her, like he’d done as a lovesick teenager. And not stopping by her office, not returning her phone calls, and actively trying to avoid her all day had been another error.

Maybe if he’d told her his plan, she could have talked him out of it. But even as he considered that possibility, he knew he was lying to himself. He wouldn’t have listened to her. He would have ignored her concerns, the same way he’d ignored her warning at the hospital about the Waynes.

Because he wanted the truth.

Getting into Wayne Hall had been easy. When he’d been younger and, somehow, poorer, he’d gotten plenty of practice sneaking into movie theaters, comedy clubs, and the occasional small music venue. The red uniform he’d found in the closet had been far too big for his lean frame, like most clothing he wore, and he’d felt silly in the hat. But, after a deep breath, he’d managed to stop worrying about his get-up and focus on his goal: meeting Thomas Wayne.

After entering the second mezzanine, where he’d assumed he’d have a good vantage point, the film playing had momentarily captivated him. He’d actually felt a rare moment of pleasure, enjoying the movie, the music, and himself as he swayed to the notes of the orchestra, quietly laughing. It had been the one time tonight he’d faltered. He’d pulled himself together quickly, though, and scanned the crowd. He’d wondered where Y/N was, not wanting to bump into her. If she had caught him, he was sure she’d have been confused. And likely pissed.

It hadn’t taken long for him to spot the Waynes, situated in a box to the right side of the house. They’d been well-dressed and appeared to be having a good time. And there was no sign of Bruce. He’d watched them, trying to figure out how to best run into Mr. Wayne. Popping into the box had been out of the question. Arthur didn’t want to meet Mrs. Wayne or have the necessary conversation in public. Fortunately, Mr. Wayne had gotten up after only a few seconds, taking the decision away from Arthur as he moved to trail him.

When Arthur had gotten situated at the row of bathroom sinks, he’d hurriedly taken off his ridiculous disguise. Then he’d smoothed his hair and straightened his clothing, like at Wayne Manor. As he’d pulled up his pants, he felt a sense of shame. His father was in a tuxedo and Arthur had only old clothes to wear. Despite that awareness, he’d been excited and wide-eyed, standing twenty feet from his father. He truly hadn’t known what to say.

The response to Arthur introducing himself hadn’t been as warm as he had hoped. There was no embrace, no acknowledgment of the years of absence. Instead, Thomas Wayne had looked at him like he was crazy. But at least he’d been noticed. Arthur had been relieved at having broken through. “My mother told me everything,” he’d said, shrugging and smiling. “And I had to talk to you.”

The immediate dismissal he’d gotten wasn’t a complete surprise, especially after the welcome the butler had given him last night. Still, it hurt. Arthur tried to explain why he believed Mr. Wayne was his father, his voice gentle despite the volcano starting to boil inside him. He’d wished he had that damn letter with him. It was tangible proof he wasn’t being delusional, that, despite Mr. Wayne’s words, he was thinking clearly.

But then Mr. Wayne had told Arthur the absurd lie that he’d been adopted. Arthur had been unable to stop the tremor in his voice when protesting the notion. The speed with which he’d started sniffling had been humiliating.

Arthur had tried to remain calm; the last thing he’d wanted was to make his father uncomfortable. The more Mr. Wayne had denied everything, though, the more insulting he’d become, the louder Arthur had gotten. He wondered if Mr. Wayne had somehow learned about his history with Arkham. Arthur thought he must have. How else would he have known which lies and insults would spear him the deepest?

And then his fucking condition had made it worse. Arthur had given up at that point, abandoning any semblance of keeping himself together. He hadn’t tried to stop laughing, even as tears threatened to spill over. “Dad, it’s me!” he’d guffawed, sounding nuts even to himself. “Come on!”

The sudden crack of Mr. Wayne’s fist connecting with his nose still played in his ears. Arthur’s hand had flown to his face, and he’d held his wound, as he always did, trying to soothe it. The last words his father said to him were, “…I’ll fucking kill you.” Arthur didn’t try to follow him after that. Getting to know him was a lost cause.

Bracing himself on the counter with both hands, Arthur grew more despondent. There was no way he could have been adopted. Penny had never hinted, not once, that he wasn’t her son. She’d said she’d signed papers - maybe they were papers saying she couldn’t talk. He’d heard of that before. Or she’d been confused and didn’t know what she was talking about.

Either his mother had been lying to him his entire life, or his father hated him. Neither were good options.

His chuckles started to be punctuated by soft sobs, until the two were nearly indistinguishable. He wanted his laughter to disappear, along with himself. And any hint that he’d ever existed. The torment he felt needed to stop.

The phone rang. He couldn’t bring himself to answer it. It was probably the police because he’d shown up at the benefit. Or the hospital. He couldn’t deal with either right now. The call went to the machine after three or four rings.

“Arthur, it’s me.” He stilled at Y/N’s voice. “This is the first day we haven’t talked since the subway.” At her light snort, he turned to look at the phone. “I hate it.” She sighed, then, her words taking on a serious but soft quality. “Look, you told me not to worry about you. But I’m worrying. I hope you’re all right.” He closed his eyes, feeling worse now that he knew she was wasting her energy fretting over him when he was worthless.

But she continued. “Call me or stop by. I want to know what’s going on. I meant what I said last night. Don’t be afraid to need me. I need you, too.” There was a pause as she cleared her throat. “I really do, Arthur. I need you. Please let me know you’re okay before I come over and break down your door.” Her laugh was gentle. And, Arthur thought, a bit sad. Sadness he’d caused. “Okay. I’ve pestered you enough today with all these messages. I’ll see you soon. Good night.”

Biting his lip, Arthur shook his head. How could she need him? He would never be able to give her what she deserved. His life was filled with error after error, mistake after mistake, fuck up after fuck up. Yet, even as those thoughts swamped him, he longed to run to her apartment, knock on her door, and fall into her. To allow himself the temporary escape of the comfort of her arms and the warmth of her body.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to ruin her. He wouldn’t taint her lightness.

Arthur went to the fridge, crying less now that he had a plan. Quickly, before he could reconsider, he opened the refrigerator and started emptying it. There wasn’t much in there. The bread, containers of butter and other various foodstuffs, even the shelves and drawers were soon on the floor. Trying to close out the pain bearing down on him, he climbed in, shutting the door twice behind him.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​@clowndaddyfleck​​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @invisiblewispofwhimsey @let-the-stars-fall-in-the-abyss​

[tehrevving]

I kind of love the "friends to lovers" trope, can I request that for Dante x Female Reader?

Abso-fucking-lutely you can. 

---

You couldn’t even remember why you had been out that night, the night when you first came across those creatures. Dark things with glowing eyes piercing through the darkness, with blades and sickles for hands, calling out for blood with otherworldly screeches.

They advanced on you with their sharp teeth and their claws, surrounding you and cornering you. You had no way to defend yourself, you were sure you were going to die.

+++

The whole dying thing took longer than you expected. The creatures cornered you, slashed at you like they were trying to spill as much blood as possible rather than take your life. The pain was excruciating across your chest and arms, stinging on your face as blood began to run into your eyes.

Just when the red haze to your vision was getting too much, when it was getting almost impossible to breathe and you were just praying for a quick death, you saw what looked like a man with long hair towering over you, towering over the creatures.

The last thing you remember was opening your mouth to beg for help, but no words came out.

+++++

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t your own, your body feeling tight, painful and unfamiliar. Your entire torso and arms were bandaged up, with a pounding head and blurry vision, but you were alive. Somehow.

Moments after you awoke, a man with long white hair and a red coat came into the room.

The creatures were devils from hell apparently, the man that had saved you, Dante had said. The creatures had torn your skin to ribbons, slashed at your throat, body and face. While you could still speak, your voice was weak and hoarse. Your face has seen better days, while it wasn’t the worst thing ever, you were pretty sure you’d never find a boyfriend now.  

Dante had explained as he covered your wounds with foul smelling ointment that no hospital would know how to treat your wounds, that without the proper treatment they would fester and cause you to rot from the inside out. That he didn’t want that to happen to you.

You had no reason not to believe him.

+++++

Around a week later you finally felt strong enough to get out of the strange bed that had become your home. You found yourself in some kind of old building, done up with a clashing array of styles; some items modern, some ancient and antique and so many in the middle. He said it was his office and home, that he ran his own business. You were just grateful to be able to move around, even if it was with difficulty, and get back to some semblance of normality.

Dante was a constant presence in your life, always there if you needed him, but he also kept his distance. Like he was afraid of scaring you or something. Admittedly he was imposing, tall and muscular and dangerous looking, but he was also an absolute goof and it was difficult to take him seriously sometimes.

You had a lot of respect for him, not just for looking after you, but for being able to look at your ruined face when he spoke to you. That he was able to carry out a conversation like a normal person with you, you didn’t think you’d ever have that again.

You didn’t like looking at yourself in the mirror, you didn’t want to see the deep gashes crossing your face or the scarring. You figured that if you kept ignoring it, it would go away, even though you knew better.

+++++

A week later, the two of you had been standing around the kitchen, beginning to prepare a meal. Dante had asked you, innocently if you wanted to go home soon. You had fallen to the ground, bursting into tears on the spot. You didn’t really have anywhere to go, you didn’t want to go back to your shitty apartment and your shitty roommate, who probably thought you were dead and had thrown your meagre possessions to the curb. You didn’t want to go back to your dead end job, you’d probably been fired anyway; you didn’t want to face anyone ever again.

This wonderful, large man had tried to console you. He lifted you off the ground and helped you to a chair. Awkwardly keeping an arm around your shoulders, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to touch you or not. You did.

“You can stay here as long as you need to,” he reassured you, squeezing your shoulders gently. You could feel the warmth of him, the familiar scent of him, and you hadn’t felt so calm in weeks.

It was at that point, looking up at his awkward face filled with genuine kindness, while you had tears running down your own hideous face, that you thought maybe you were falling for him, just a little bit.

+++++

The touching became more frequent after that. Soft touches, almost accidental. You would try and teach him how to cook, holding onto his hands to direct him, brushing against him to move him out of the way. He did the same to you, teaching you how to answer the very old fashioned phone that sat on his desk in case he wasn’t there, how to fill out the book for jobs.

He was always very careful around you, and you figured it was because he was strong, because he was afraid of hurting you. You had seen him lift up the couch one handed once when he had dropped something underneath it. It should have scared you, but it didn’t.

Each time he brushed up against you, each time he brushed his hands across your waist to direct you, to move you out of the way, you couldn’t help the tingle that raced up your spine. You wanted him to touch him more, wanted him to use some of that strength on you.

Maybe you were falling pretty hard.

+++++

The weather began to get colder but you still didn’t want to leave. Dante did his best to help you, offering you some old, warmer clothes of his, now that you had stopped bleeding on everything you touched. They all swamped you, but you didn’t care, you enjoyed being surrounded by his scent.

He asked you if you wanted him to go out and get some clothes that would actually fit you, but you had shaken your head. You felt safe like this, and you didn’t want to be reminded on how you wouldn’t be able to fit into normal society ever again.

+++++

The weather continued to get colder. You asked him, in your now permanently quiet, hoarse voice if he would be alright turning the heating on.

Dante had shaken his head and looked at you with a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry,” he’d said,  “there’s no heating. I run warm, so I’ve never bothered. I’ve got some extra blankets though.”

You asked him for some more of his clothes to layer up with instead.

+++++

One night, about a week later, the temperature had dropped so much that it was noticeable. You could see your breath in front of you even when you were in the shop. The building was old and damaged, terrible for trying to keep any sort of heat in, even if it had heating it probably wouldn’t have helped much.

The two of you were sat on the couch, watching some crappy movie on the tv that you didn’t care about. You’re wearing 3 of his shirts with an old, long red coat, 2 pairs of oversized sweatpants and multiple pairs of socks. You don’t want to ask for any more clothing, you’re convinced that your body should be able to warm itself up. You’re only shivering a little bit after all.

Dante keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looking away from you when you notice and meet his gaze.

Eventually he gets up from the couch with a sigh of effort, pushing himself up off the cushions as they groan in protest. “Stay here, let me get you a blanket.”

He comes back with two pathetic, threadbare things. You’re grateful anyway and try your best to thank him, he probably doesn’t hear your quiet voice over the sound of the tv.

Dante sits back down on the other side of the couch while you burrow yourself underneath the blankets and further into the couch cushions, hoping that you’ll warm up.

You don’t.

It’s probably 10 minutes later and you’re still shivering underneath the blankets, even more violently than you were before.

Dante sighs again and you turn to watch him as he slowly begins to shift on the couch. He slides himself towards you, lifts up his arm and wraps it around your shoulders. He pulls you against his chest and tucks you in underneath his coat. Suddenly you’re warm.

You curl up against him, murmuring a quiet thanks that gets lost somewhere between the heat of him and the coldness of the room. He’s so warm, even though he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his coat. He smells amazing, and you can’t help but groan slightly in pleasure as his warmth seeps into your freezing body. The steady sound of his breathing lulls you into a sort of daze, you want to stay like this forever.

+++++

It happens every night, even when it’s not so cold in the shop. At first there was some awkward shifting and waiting, but now you just burrow into his chest without warning whenever you can. Pulling the blankets over the two of you to trap the heat in while you curl up against him.

If he ever gets too hot, if he doesn’t like you doing this, he doesn’t mention it.

+++++

It continues to get colder.

+++++One night when it’s been hours since you went to bed, but you’re still awake because it’s too damn cold. You were in bed, under multiple blankets and wearing so fucking many clothes, and you still hadn’t been able to stop shivering.

You’re standing outside of Dante’s door, unsure if you’re actually going to go through with your plan for warmth or not. You’re not sure if he’ll even let you, you’re freezing though, and you don’t really have anything to lose.

You rap your tired, frozen knuckles against his bedroom door.

It opens probably 30 seconds later, creaking on its hinges. A very bleary eyed Dante stands before you, his hair a mess. He’s shirtless and just in his underwear, you wonder how he can stand it. You force your eyes up to his face, struggling not to stare at his body, or the very large bulge at his crotch.

You try to speak but your voice fails you, luckily he notices that you’re practically shaking on the spot, your entire body convulsing with shivers.

He yawns and then gives you a small smile. “Come here,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder and leading you into his room.

Dante’s room is a decent size, a little bit messy but honestly tidy enough. There’s a huge bed in the middle covered with red sheets, and you’ve never seen anything look so inviting.

He leads you over to the right side of the bed, and looks you up and down, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Let’s get some of these layers off you,” he says and you look at him like he’s a fucking maniac. “Just trust me,” he says.

He helps you take off the ridiculous amount of clothing that you’re wearing until you’re standing in only a single layer, shivering even more.

He motions for you to get into the bed, lifting up the covers slightly for you.

You slide under the covers and it’s warm, jarringly so. The bed dips and creaks under your weight and you can hardly fathom it. This must have been where he was lying before, but there’s absolutely no way that the bed should still be so warm. You can’t help but moan quietly in pleasure from the warmth and burrow into his sweet smelling sheets.

He walks around to the other side of the bed, You avert your eyes as he puts on some sweatpants that he picks up from the floor. He throws a pillow onto the bed that he’s gotten from somewhere, and lies down next to you.

The warmth gets even more intense. You’ve never been so comfortable in your life. You can feel your eyes getting heavy, your body exhausted from trying to keep itself warm. You don’t have any energy left

“Goodnight,” he says to you.

You try to say it back, but you’re not sure your voice is coherent as you drift off to sleep.

+++++

You don’t sleep in your bed from then on, even though it’s started getting warmer again.

There’s not even any question about it as Dante guides you into his room, and his bed every night. You’ve never felt more safe and secure than you do falling asleep next to him, cocooned by his warmth and his presence.

You think to yourself that even if this as far as your relationship ever gets, it’s enough for you, even though you know deep down it isn’t.

+++++

One morning you wake up to an unbearable heat, surrounding you from all sides and trapping you in. The bed is shaking, and there’s a stifling body pressed up against your back. Your mind, still sluggish from sleep tries to process what’s going on until suddenly it hits you like a freight train.

Dante is still asleep, hard, and grinding against your fucking ass.

Your body begins to wake up to what’s going on, you can’t help the unbearable shock of heat that tears itself through your body with each press of his big clothed cock against your ass. You can’t help but whine, can’t help but begin to push back against him. Fuck it’s bigger than you thought it’d be.

The urge to roll over, to grind your own aching core against him, flies across your mind so suddenly you’re surprising you didn’t actually move. You want to roll over, to straddle his hips, sink down on his big fucking cock and ride the shit out of him, it’s almost too much to take.

You hear Dante groan from behind you, and it’s the hottest damn thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

Shit, you can’t stand it anymore, fuck the consequences, you’re gonna go for it. You brace yourself, preparing to roll over but the moment before you do, the heat behind you disappears.

Dante rolls onto his back and away from you. He’s breathing heavily and the sound makes your hips buck involuntarily. You struggle to tilt your head back to look at him. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his messy hair falling in his flushed face, the patches of red spreading across his chest and the holy shit big tent in the covers.  

“I..” he starts, and you see his hand come up to smack at his forehead. “Fuck,” he says. There’s barely a moment between the sound escaping his lips and his body throwing itself out of the bed.

He practically runs out of the room.

You hear the shower start up a moment late and fuck, you try not to think about what he’s probably doing in there but you can’t help it. You will your own breathing to slow down, will yourself to have some control. You try to still your hips but they don’t want to listen to you, the ache in your core almost too much to stand.

You’re not going to masturbate in his bed, you repeat to yourself over and over as a mantra as you struggle not to rut into his soft sheets and bury yourself into the scent of him.

+++++

The rest of the day is awkward, it’s not like the two of you could talk about what happened like adults. You think he probably figures that you’re horrified by what happened, or that he is. There’s no way that someone like him would ever want someone like you, especially with your ruined body.

He still lets you sleep in his bed, though that night, he doesn’t pull you to his room like normal. Instead he sort of waits next to you, waiting to see what you do.

You don’t want to sleep on your own, and shit, you’re sort of hoping that it happens again.

He still lets you cuddle against him on the couch, lets you lie against him in bed but now he’s tense the whole time. You need to work up the courage to say something, to let him know that it’s ok. But you’re too scared of destroying what you already have together, whatever the fuck it is. You’re terrified of him kicking you out to the curb and out into the real world.

You’re mostly healed up by now, but you don’t want to admit that you are, because that would mean thinking about leaving Dante, and you can’t face the thought, you just want to exist in this dream forever.

Your voice is still low and quiet, but it’s not too difficult to understand, it’ll probably never go back to how it was. It’s difficult to speak, but at least you still can. The scarring on your arms and torso have mostly healed into jagged, thick red lines that criss cross across your skin. They look horrible, but Dante’s baggy clothes cover them up pretty well. You resign yourself to never wearing short sleeves again, if you ever go outside of the shop that is. The gashes on your face however, are now your most prominent feature.

Parts of your eyebrows haven’t grown back, and they probably won’t. The hard lines, claw marks snaking their way down your face are horrifying. You’ll probably never be able to get a job facing people ever again, you don’t want to think about it.

You want to just stay with Dante forever, with him it’s easy. At Devil May Cry, while the very few clients that come into the building look at your face and they stare, they don’t judge. They expect that sort of thing from here, from this line of work. You think about asking Dante if he’d take you on as an employee, but that would involve the two of you having a proper conversation and probably the setting of boundaries, and that’s the last thing you want.

+++++

It turns out that fate makes the choice for you eventually.

All you did was trip over the leg of a chair. You don’t even know how it happened, you knew the chair was there, knew that all you fucking had to do was walk around it, but your body had other plans.

You knew Dante was fast, capable of moving much quicker than a human, but you’d never really seen it in action. Before you even began to fall he was there in front of you, his arms tight around your waist as he held you steady. Your arms had already began to fly out to break your fall, but you just end up bracing them against his solid chest instead.

You can feel the warmth of him, the overwhelming press of his presence next to you. He’s breathing slightly heavy and you can feel the puffs of his breath against the top of your head. You turn to look up at him and see that he’s looking down at you. You hold his gaze for a moment and then he starts to lean down, a subtle tilt of his head that you might have missed if you hadn’t been looking for it. You lean up towards him, curling your hands into the fabric of his shirt for support.

When your lips finally meet his, it’s everything that you ever thought it would be. His lips are soft, warm and his stubble pricks against your skin.

Your kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before Dante is pulling away. You whine in disappointment, opening your eyes to his grinning face. “I’m sorry,” he says but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Sorry for what?” You ask him. You’re slightly worried that he’ll apologise for kissing you, that it was a mistake and that he’s not interested, but then he wouldn’t have that sort of shit eating grin on his face, would he?

“For not doing that sooner,” he chuckles and then pulls you back to his him.

The kiss between you turns heated very quickly. Within moments of his lips pressing against yours his tongue is in your mouth and he’s pulling you closer to his body. You can’t help but groan against him, can’t help rocking your hips against him; he’s doing the same.

In your haze of desire you bite down on his bottom lip and suddenly find yourself pushed back against a wall. You hadn’t even been anywhere near one.

Dante pulls away from you, panting and feral as he cages you against the wall with his body, “don’t tease a devil if you can’t handle the claws.”

You’re pretty submissive normally but not during sex and with a surge of boldness that you haven’t felt in damn knows how long, you smirk up at him. “What if I want the claws.”

Dante curses. “Shit,” and his hips rock into yours. He’s hard and you can’t help but gasp at the feel of him. “Can we take this upstairs?” he asks, breathless.

“Please,” you whisper.

Dante hoists you up and holds you until you manage to wrap your legs around his waist. His whole body is so large and broad that you struggle a little bit. His arms are a strong blanket around you as he begins to make his way to his bedroom.

He throws you gently down onto his bed and then he joins you by climbing on top of you. He fits perfectly against you, height difference aside. With his lips against yours and the sharp jut of his hip bone pressed against your aching heat while he positions your thigh against his crotch.

It’s stifling hot as Dante ruts against your leg, his body trapping in the heat of yours. You can’t get enough. He runs a large, calloused hand underneath your shirt, well it’s one of his shirts that you’re wearing, so he can tease at your skin. You run your hands underneath his own shirt, digging your nails into the broad muscles of his back because it makes him groan.

You want more, you want everything, the heat is unbearable and you can hardly stand it. Wanting to speed this up, you reach between your bodies and start trying to undo his belt.

Dante gives you 20 seconds of struggling with the buckle before he’s lifting himself up off you. He rips off his shirt and throws it across the room, working on his belt and fly, opening his pants up but not taking them off. He has underwear on but it does barely anything to contain the large bulge of his cock.

He puts his hands on the waist of your own pants, looking down at you with hunger. “Can I?” he asks.

“Please.”

He helps you out of your pants but leaves your panties on. You make a move to remove your shirt but he stops you with a growl.

“Leave it.” You stop in your tracks as his large hands encompass yours. “I like you wearing my clothes.”

You buck your hips up against him and he grins.

Dante settles himself back down, angling your hips so that his clothed cock pressed against your own aching core. He leans forward to kiss you again. Bending your body in on itself slightly as you shove your tongue down his throat while while you rut against each other like horny teenagers.

“What do you want?” he asks you, breathless with his lips by your ear.

“Everything,” your reply, your voice low and hoarse.

“Do you want to have sex?” he’s teasing you now and of course you’re going to take the bait.

You whine and nod.

“Tell me darlin’.”

“Dante. I want to fuck you,” you struggle out, your new voice not used to the throes of passion.

Dante moans at your words, “your voice sounds so fucking good.”

You shake your head, you much prefer how it sounded before, when it was slightly high pitched and actually had some sort of volume to it, but you’ll take his praise, because you believe him.

He snakes a hand down your body and you let him. Unable to help but moan as his large fingers brush over your panties. He rubs you over them for a while, lets you keen and whine underneath him while he teases you.

Eventually he slips large fingers inside your panties and then begins to slowly slide them inside.

You want him to hurry up and you start to beg for more.

“I know,” he coos at you, “just be patient. You need this. Trust me.”

Dante stretches you open, the ache pleasant but nowhere near enough. It’s not long until your clenching around his fingers and trying to convince him to do more.

You run your nails down his back, across his ass. Eventually you lean your body as far forward as you can and reach between his legs. You struggle to palm at his crotch until he relents his assault on you with a huffed sigh. You cry out when he removes his fingers, but then he shifts and almost immediately you can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Do you want this?” He asks you. He rubs the head of his cock against your folds, slipping it against your clit and making your hips buck. Sliding it back down and angling it so it catches against your eager core over and over again.

“Dante please. “ you beg, nails raking down his back. You dig your hands into his ass, trying to push him forward. Your efforts just make him chuckle against your neck.

Finally he settles his weight down lower onto his elbows. He kisses the scars on your face, whispers your name as he slowly begins to push in. His whole body is shaking with the strain of going slowly, of trying to hold himself back.

It’s tight but he slips in easily, swearing once he bottoms out inside of you, then groaning and laughing as you claw at his back trying to get him to fucking move.

“I like that you’re rough,” he says because he didn’t expect it from all of the previous interactions he’s had with you.

You just claw him up more.

Dante kisses you through the burn and the ache until you can’t stand it. Until you’re feebly trying to rock your hips against the large weight of him and begging for him to move.

Dante fucks you slowly at first, his hips gentle but firm. Building a slow pace while your body gets used to him.

It doesn’t take long before he starts to move rougher, before he starts to lose control. His fists clench in the sheets either side of you as he struggles to hold back. His strength and size out in full force, each snap of his hips almost pushes you up the bed.

You fucking love it.

Dante kisses over your scars, bites down on your neck to try and stifle himself. It’s everything you ever wanted as the pressure and heat builds and builds.

It’s not long until he’s panting, muscles in his neck standing out, and you know he’s close. He adjusts suddenly, runs a hand down your body and presses his thick fingers to your aching clit and you can’t hold back anymore.

“Come for me  “ he orders and you’re powerless to refuse him.

You bite into his shoulder to stifle your cries, to try and save the roughness of your throat from your voice. Dante groans and his hips spasm erratically before pushing deep inside of you and still as your body pulses around him.

+++

Dante turns into a huge puddle of goo after sex. He’s warm and soft, pulling you to his chest, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzles into your hair until his breathing turns steady, heavy and slow. He seems so barely conscious that you’re surprised he doesn’t actually fall asleep.

It’s everything you wanted, being showered with affection you didn’t know you were craving. He helps you stand up on your shaky legs, helps clean you up afterwards.

It’s with a sheepish chuckle and a hand rubbing the back of his head that he admit he’s happy the feelings between the two of you were apparently mutual. It should have been pretty obvious after the explosive sex of course, but it’s nice to actually talk about it like adults and have it confirmed.

Dante tells you that he’s not good at this sort of thing, at relationships. That he’s going to fuck it up without fail, and that you should prepare to be disappointed by him. His face turns downcast as he tells you that he understands if you don’t want to pursue this with him anymore, after his admission.

You laugh, smiling at this loveable goofball that saved your life. He’s the reason you’re here right this second you tell him. That you’ve seen how crazy he is and that you don’t care. He looks past your flaws, past, present and perceived and you tell him that you don’t care that there’s not much he could do to turn you away. You throw your arms around him and tell him that you are his, that no matter what you want to try and make this work.

The huge grin that appears on his face lights up your whole world.

+++++

Being with Dante, properly being with Dante, now that you’ve worked out something that works between the two of you, it’s better than you expected.

He gives you the courage to do things you didn’t think you’d be able to. He’s right there beside you when you leave the shop for the first time since you were attacked, hand intertwined with yours. He’s so much of an outlier, with his white hair, red coat and the way that he just towers over almost everyone else, that random people on the street hardly spare a glance towards your scarred up face, they’re too busy sizing him up.

He squeezes your hand when he notices someone staring, and he looks down at you with such adoration that it’s easy to forget about them.

You think you could get used to going outside if he’s there to help you. You think you might actually be able to go back to some semblance of a normal life if he’s there by your side.

+++++

The next time you wake up to Dante grinding against your ass in his sleep. Well, you grin and roll over until you’re straddling his hips. This time, it’s not awkward at all.

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y4DPZGlNP8I

I was watching MangaKamen’s video deconstructing Cvit’s Persona 5: Style Over Substance video and I...I just couldn’t watch it. Basically, Kamen’s own videos on RWBY and Cvit’s Persona 5 video are way too similar (in that both make logical fallacies just to avoid their assumptions.) So, despite covering this briefly, I’ll do it in full here.

And if MangaKamen himself sees this: You can’t keep responding to people, criticizing them for stuff that you do yourself. I literally couldn’t listen to your video on Cvit because of the hypocrisy. Stick to your own standards: people respect you more for it.

P.S. Don’t create a circlejerk in the reblogs and replies. I do not have the patience for it today.

Before I begin, I should point out a small bit of hypocrisy. In his “Cvit Doesn’t Understand Video”, he complains about an influx of videos all about going into unnecessary details about how X things suck, calling it the ‘Joseph Anderson effect.’ I bring this up because one of the videos he brings up is The Cosmonaut Variety Hour’s video on Kingdom Hearts (which is, being generous, 22 minutes.) MangaKamen’s video is, again generously, 38 minutes. And I do mean generaously because I automatically rounded up Cosmonaut’s and rounded down Kamen’s videos. I don’t think he should be complaining about that. 

While you could argue he was also complaining about the title as well: A. Kamen’s first RWBY video was literally titled “Whats Wrong With RWBY?!” with a title saying “Here’s why RWBY Sucks” in big bold letters. B. His video makes fun of people who are there to disagree with his title and nothing else and C. I watched Cosmonaut’s video on Kingdom Hearts: He’s actually more positive towards Kingdom hearts 3 than Kamen is to RWBY.

This is a small microcosism of he issue with his hypocrisy: it ends up affecting the quality of other videos too.

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His first section is on ‘contrivances’ or ‘things that happen in a story that don’t make sense’. Before he even gives a true example, we run into yet another problem with Kamen. In his explanation, Kamen mocks the scene were Jaune gets hit on by the mothers of the kids he’s helping with an image of Miles Luna saying ‘Remember, NOT a self-insert!’.

Issue? The episode wasn’t written by Miles Luna, it was written by Eddy Rivas. How do I know?

The episode says so. This is especially egregious because he chews Cvit out for just typing in “Persona 5 sucks” into google and saying a certain source popped up...and yet typing in “Miles Luna Jaune Arc Self Insert” would actually bring up something that outright shows Miles is self conscious about Jaune to the point of avoiding his scenes (https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5dnc6/?context=3). So while Cvit may have been looking for evidence instead of thinking critically: he at least took the effort of doing a search result whereas Kamen probably made an on the spot decision with no sources whatsoever. Combine this with the fact this is not the first time he’s taken potshots at Miles and you have an effectively WORSE version of what he says Cvit did.

“But this is just a joke!” Yeah, and Sham-Amon was a joke about M. Night Shamalyan by Doug Walker. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t an insult and was correct (Shamalyan was actually a reason why the Airbender movie even RESEMBLED the cartoon.) That doesn’t make this okay, especially since I know a similar ‘joke’ towards someone he’s a fan of would get you a video made on you.

Now onto one of his examples: He says it makes no sense for Robyn to be allowed to run for Atlas’ council because ‘she is stealing supplies from the government.’ Issue is: judging by the footage he’s using, he’s talking about Volume 7 Episode 5 “Sparks” where Robyn created a blockade and stopped a supply truck Qrow, Clover, Penny and Ruby were on. She never actually makes a move to steal the supplies in the episode though. While you could argue it wwas implied because she had people behind them hiding behind camoflague-

In his Cvit video, he criticized the guy for saying that we don’t know how long Futaba’s friend was abused by her parents when Cvit makes the argument that the friend was abused for over a decade, never entertaining other possibilities. You know, what he does. (P.S. Sparks is the same episode with the Jaune-Mothers ‘joke’.)

He uses this faulty and hypocritical point to jump off into how it would be a bad look for her to steal from the government even if it was for a good cause and that most government prevent people from running because of this. See, not only is this still based on a point even Kamen would argue is not enough- The context in the scene (that Mantle hates Atlas government and Robyn’s platform is based off that discontent...Huh) would show that even if she was stealing, it would HELP her image. As for the ‘governments prevent people convicted of theft for running for office’- She hasn’t stolen anything yet STILL. Also, in his Cvit video, he complains about a point where Cvit’s source edited out preceding text to make the phrasing of a certain textbox look extremely awkward. So again, hypocrisy.

Then we have...another shitty joke. A really bad one too. It’s the scene with Weiss and Winter talking the training room with the audio taken out and speech bubbles that say ‘Why are we just staring at each other?’ ‘I dunno...just to look cool?’. Not only is this blatantly not what is happening (you can tell their heads are bobbing from talking), I literally cannot take this ‘joke’ any other way than a malicious potshot at the show. It doesn’t function any other way. I’m trying to be calm and concise but this stuff really harms any benefit of doubt I can give.

His next point is-Oh god damnit, the fucking Penny frame up AGAIN. You know what is more frustrating than a shitty point? A shitty point repeated ad nauseum. Before Kamen even made this video, I had already argued every single perspective of this. There’s literally nothing new he can give?

Security? We never see how Tyrian got in and considering his immense agility and stealth: he could snuck in or hid in the warehouse.

Fanaus night vision? Not all Fanaus have night vision and most of the crowd was seen trying to rush out of the warehouse (during a scene Kamen shows no less). He also says the show alludes to Atlas being a racially biased system...even though Jacques Schnee says he pays all his workers equally (AKA he treats all his workers like shit.)

Scrolls? Again, most of the people are shown trying to run away and no one who remains is said to have brought their scrolls.

Break in the argument for a smug laugh even though all he’s done is repeat other people’s failed arguments. (Issue with either being bitch basic with your arguments or copying others? I’ll have fought the issue long before you make it.)

Ends with saying “When the lights come back on, there’s no blood on Penny’s blades!” (Cognitive bias against Atlas. Like say, calling a character a self insert over a scene that wasn’t written by the person.)

He goes onto say that this is just the latest example of contrived writing but because his points are all faulty, it doesn’t come across as contrived: it comes across as normal but Kamen is too focused on making everything look as bad as possible.

“But what about Robyn’s Semblance?!”

I dunno, why do people say that the Covington Catholic kids are still racist when we have proof otherwise? Cognitive bias is a thing. Robyn wouldn’t try testing this (even assuming she COULD since it would be logical Penny just ran off after this in fear) because it al ready confirms her own biases.

His whole temper tantrum here is all based on around pure logic...something he himself has argued against in media. This thing goes on and on and it just test my paitence and gives me more and more reason to assume Kamen isn’t just missing info, he’s indulging in willful ignorance.

Then we have him bitching about Yang and Blake telling Robyn what is going on and how it’s contrived that they would think that Robyn was on their side since she hasn’t done anything good. Issue? This is all based on KAMEN’S perspective. A perspective that, at best, is heavily biased against Robyn.

Thing is, Robyn’s thefts (which began AFTER he said they did) were to help repair the break in Mantle’s wall protecting them from the Grimm, something Team RWBY agrees with. Of course they’d assume Robyn is a good guy since she’s acting in the interests of the people, something they do as well. Robyn’s only bad when you completely ignore how James brushes over the current struggles of the people is elected to protect and serve in order for his bigger picture, a method they don’t agree with. Something the show is showing isn’t a good idea as people see him as uncaring and unfeeling to their struggles. 

“But Ironwood has been helping them!”

Cool. That has nothing to do with him alienating his own allies through his paranoia, causing Yang and Blake try and make peace with Robyn themselves. There’s also the fact that the team should be opposing this. After all, it’s the same thing Ozpin did to them and they chewed him out over it. And unlike with the lying to Ironwood, there would be no hints that this hypocrisy would be intended by the showrunners. So Kamen is literally advocating for bad writing here.

This was added in post edit by the way so the man literally shoved in a point that does nothing but push the theory he is biased without ever considering what is necessary in the show. Even though he demands it from others. It’s really inconsistent. Dare I say...the standards are contrived?

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Next is the ‘design work’ part. He’s says this is gonna be positive for a moment and it does lack his usual malice. Doesn’t mean it’s good.

He criticizes the designs of the main cast besides Ruby. He says that Blake’s design now emphasizes the color white despite supposedly being black before. Issue is that her alternate Vol.2 and Vol.4 designs also emphasized the color white and her original design has equal part black and white. Weiss’s is supposedly that her dark blue dominates her design and is too busy to be elegant. Issue is that it’s only on the jacket and it’s mostly the same color as her previous design (even having more white.) As for being elegant: I could definitely argue it goes for a military-esque elegance. And Yang is...too brown? Uh...her original outfit was dominated by being brown.

He praises Ruby’s for still having it’s red coloring but...it’s too red. Her original design was actually closer to being goth than Blake’s and was mostly black with bright red frills and her signature cloak. And her hair has drastically changed, like he complained about with Blake.  He really shouldn’t be giving Ruby a pass here.

I have nothing to say about his point ‘they’re all too busy.’ I feel like any side I take will be too heavily influenced by my own feelings at this point.

He complains about the logic behind the long fabrics being easy to grab onto and says that because they justified the new outfits with ‘it’s cold’ they should listen here. Issue- Not only are these two different trains of logic but by his own arguments, he should be arguing for all of them to wear white and wear bulky armor since that’s logical as well, following his logic. He doesn’t set what the limit should be.

Honestly this whole part is just kind of fluff. A lot of nothing was said and kind of feels like it was put in just to make the argument ‘Well I said something nice about RWBY!’

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Next up is ‘consistency’. ... Oh god.

“Aura was rewritten!’ He never cites what happened here but I know this dance so well I could get paid for it. Aura has always been a thing you needed to activate, back in Volume 1 where Jaune was cut by a branch and Pyrrha said ‘why don’t you use your aura?’. The supposed inconsistency comes from WOR: Aura saying it was passive even though certain definitions and uses of passive work under these examples. He also says that people cant use their Semblances when they run out of Aura but they still do, citing that old example of Yang’s Aura flickering in her character short. Flickering, not breaking. Meaning she still has Aura.

He also adds in that point about the WOR Atlas saying that the cold of Solitas killed the Grimm. While they are depicted as freezing here, it should be noted that the Grimm have been known to evolve and adapt. Meaning they could have easily evolved to withstand the cold. Again, editing out context which he says is bad.

“Hey, Miles. Kerry. You ever gonna acknowledge what you showed in the World of Remnant again these days?”

Dunno, are you ever gonna acknowledge what you say in your own videos? Glass houses Kamen.

I also find it funny that he calls out the ‘it’s just a cartoon!’ thing out of nowhere on a tangent even as he previously blocked me over this. Apparently contrivance is okay if it can be used as a shield. And if he has a problem with this, look over your videos not even just the RWBY ones You have said harsher- deal with it.

He goes onto criticize the argument of not all Fanaus have night vision because of specific moments...with Blake and Sun, only two Fanaus. In fact, the first example has him say that Blake and Sun used their night vision to escape a White Fang meeting. ... White Fang. Fanaus. He’s trying to argue that this is a case of Blake and Sun having night vision to contrast when she apparently ‘doesn’t’ but never notices that his own argument kind of confirms what the show said.

Then we have his other example of Blake against Illa were she couldn’t see Illa. A chameleon Fanaus. With camoflague. Where lighting up the room would alter how the colors look to see her more easily. ....

This whole point was about how the show doesn’t give strict rules to the Fanaus night vision, even though other shows with more fundamental powers (as in, the thing their premise is based on) bend these rules (like MHA with so many Quirks not being related to their physiology or Jojo bending every single Stand rule) for their plot. This isn’t directly bad as he says it is and he never emphasizes why anyone should care other than the strawman of ‘STRICT RULES!’ even as his own favorites don’t follow that.

He also says there’s no repercussions for the Penny cover up since he says it was to cause a riot to attract the Grimm but the Grimm disappear and people are being arrested for their rioting in  the next episode. ... The Grimm don’t invade until Episode 9. He’s talking about Episode 7. The arrest was for breaking curfew that Ironwood imposed afterwards to due the discontent from Jacques winning. Then we have the fact that Penny’s frame up leads to Robyn actually stealing supplies, which leads to Yang and Blake telling her about Amity, which leads to Ironwood’s paranoia taking over. So you know...kind of some of the biggest repercussions in the show.

I also remember he said it was to frame Penny in his contriavances section...which makes no sense if it was meant to cause a riot directly afterward. In trying to callout inconsistencies that don’t exist, he became inconsistent himself.

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Next part is “Don’t Show, Never Show”. .... How professional.

He begins by bitching at other people for misrepresenting his arguments about the Fanaus and how their oppression isn’t well shown. ... After he’s personally attacked the creators over a subject one of them is innocent and self conscious of and will mock that person for mocking his critics. Classy.

“Jacques is Orange Man bad stand-in-”

A. He never mentions anything about securing Atlas’ borders and in fact wants to OPEN them.

B. He’s never talked about making Atlas great or appealing to any sort of false patriotism.

C. He opposes the military whereas Trump supports them.

D. He has no slogans for his campaign, especially none like Trump’s/

E. He isn’t colluding with foreign powers aside from a generic bad guy orgnazation with no connections to the countries Trump is accused of.

F. Jacques being a slimy business man was made before Trump came into the presidency.

And G. Robyn Hill only connections to Hilarily Clinton is a gender and half a name (a name that is actually rather common in real life). In fact, considering her position is all about distrust in the government and appealing to the common man- She’s a closer stand in for TRUMP than Hilarlily. 

Again, argument’s been made a thousand times, beaten it a thousand times. 

His overall point is that Jacques is said to be a terrible parent but not shown, using the line from “This Life is Mine” ( Amazing how you conquered me, Chained me in servility) before going on to say that he ‘let her go to a different school’ (he was forced to), ‘Do whatever she wants so long as it doesn’t affect his business and reputation’ (contradicted by cutting her off, trying to limit her actions because of her ignoring his calls even though that does not affect his business or reputation), ‘spending his money at Beacon until she ignores his calls’ (finical abuse 101) and ‘she embarrassed him at a party by assaulting one of the guests.’

... The woman was outright mocking the people she knew, the ‘assault’ was an accidental summon, Jacques was trying to prevent her from just getting away from him, Jacques pressured her into singing for him despite her discomfort and never once tries to talk to his daughter like a person or calm her down, instead trying to silence her. All of THIS without getting his physical intimidation of grabbing her and slapping her, which is what Kamen strawmans the response being. Also ignoring what he did AFTER the slap, effectively trapping her in her room and spreading the idea she was unstable to save his image.

No amount of money matters here, ignoring once again that he tried withholding it once she acted outside what he wanted. That is the ‘chains of servility’ and I know you wouldn’t argue this outside RWBY. You’d be calling this ignorant beyond acception, Kamen.

“The worst examples of Jacques’ abuse happen outside the-”

Jacques’ worst abuse was being trapped in her own room for calling out the callousness of people smack talking a tragedy she went through. This is effectively mocking a war in front of a veteran then locking them in the basement while telling everyone they’re coocoo. That is in the show, stop trying to blame other materials THAT DO NOT EXIST just to appeal to a common compliant (about supplemental materials in RWBY).

“Well Winter abuses Weiss!”

So let me get this straight. A small smack on the back of the head before asking about her personal life to show she cares about Weiss (another example of cutting context) is at all comparable to abuse of parental power, controlling Weiss like a puppet and locking her up? What was your definition of contrivance and consistency again?

“Can I go off on a tangent?”

No. You have not earned that right. You have far exceeded any patience I should have given you. The fact I am STILL HERE is too much and I should just throw the rest of the video in that garbage dumb your delusion of the writing is. But I will STILL give you chance.

P.S. You use HBomberguy as an example? Even though one of the videos you chewed out in your Persona video (’Steven Universe is Garbage and Here’s Why’) is BASED OFF his work? So what? His hours long shit talking is okay? And no, this is not

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His next segment is titled ... “Okay What Is This Shit I’m Actually Cratching My Head I’m So Dumbfounded And Confused AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

... You misspelled “Scratching”.

He says the Grimm Attack after Robyn’s failed election was handled off screen. That never existed and the Grimm attacked THREE EPISODE LATER and is handled on screen.

He says that Jacques being arrested makes no sense because Watts can control technology and should have used it disable the security cameras in the Schnee Manor. As he outright says, Willow hid those cameras and Watts HACKS technology and cannot hack what he DOES NOT KNOW EXISTS. It’s outright said BY THE SHOW and SHOWN that he cannot just magically control technology.

He also questions how Willow got those cameras in there, ignoring that Jacques DOES NOT HAVE OMNISCENCE.  Why she did when she SAID it was to make sure he didn’t abuse her kids. When doesn’t fucking matter. It’s all pendantic bullcrap. You can apply this to any situation in media and I know Kamen would bitch about the show’s pacing if they did this because it would be boring as fuck.

He says that there was no foreshadowing that Willow set these cameras up which I would like to give...if not for the rest of his video which illustrates to me he would have made this point with or without foreshadowing.

“How come Robyn isn’t being arrested because she stole supplies?!”

A. Because you keep inferring she stole supplies BEFORE the election, I’ll have to assume it’s the same here and say SHE DIDN’T.

B. If you aren’t and have changed to saying AFTER the election: The show SHOWS YOU that they’ve been trying to arrest her. She’s been EVADING them.

C. If it’s at Jacques’ house: Remember what you said about image? Wanna guess how damaged Ol Jimmy’s image will be if he arrests his biggest critic while under suspicion of rigging the election against her AND being questioned for supposed abuse of power?

D. Gee, not like the heating system in an artic climate shut down, Jacques just got exposed for helping a KNOWN CRIMINAL TOO, The Grimm actually invade, they have to save all the people, things collapse between RWBY and Ironwood and a fuckton of other things of higher priority than one woman stealing supplies to fix something IRONWOOD HIMSELF SHOULD BE FIXING.

“Hur dur, Salem generic’

Says the Jojo and Yugioh fan. Say, how did your precious VRAINS turn out again hm?

“HEY, WHY NO RUBY TELL IRONWOOD AND TAKE RESPONBILITY?!”

Maybe because there’s a bunch of soulless abominations currently running amok in a city full of innocents so she should take responsibility as an official Huntress and do her damn job while the comparatively combat inept Oscar handle the non combat situation. Or did you want contrivance to work in your favor even though you’ve been proven to be a biased liar who will betray everything he stands in order to make a shit point about a flawed show he couldn’t criticize with a fucking guide on it?

“Why not have Ruby stand behind and say ‘I’ll catch up with you later’?-”

Because you’ll cut context and make her look irresponsible. Your suggestions mean NOTHING when you have proven that you have no honesty on the subject and will flip flop to suit yourself.

Also I love how you mock Mediaocrity4 for ‘treating his opposition as idiots’ as your fucking video STARTED and is littered with you doing JUST THAT. Fuck, I bet you’ll do JUST THAT with this post. 

“Oh look at this character who has been shown as overly emotional, rash and prone to not thinking when mad act in line with her character how dumb!”

Gee, like say...., A shut in otaku making constant video game and anime references in, let’s say, a JRPG filled with these references? 

Huh, guess you agree more with Cvit than you say.

“Dur, fistcuffs mean Jojo!”

Oh wait, Fist of the North Star did it first. And it’s a stable in most fighting anime. But hey, who cares in Kamen shanks Jojo in the back if it means lashing out against RWBY amirite?

“It’s like the context of the fights-”

Where the Ace Ops against RWBY are highly emotional, having felt betrayed by people they though as comrades and acting individually instead as duos or even as a team while all being people with shown emotional issues failing to defeat a far calmer and more developed team that have been working with them and are aware of their flaws?

Or that Clover tried to blindly follow Ironwood’s orders just as Qrow did in the past with Ozpin as the two characters heavily mirror each other, Qrow tried to fight Tyrian at first even as Clover attacked him and never actually helped Tyrian (in facting ATTACKING HIM at one point) after Clover tried arresting him in front of Robyn, someone known to do rash things when it comes to Ironwood?

I’m so glad you decided to FOR ONCE IN THIS ENTIRE, NEARLY FOURTY MINUTE VIDEO actually pay attention to the show and not the memes of the people who agree with you.

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“Conclusion”

‘Like I said in the Steven Universe Movie, I don’t let the fanabse dictate my opinion on something-’

Which is why there wasn’t a single original viewpoint, perspective, criticism, wording or even ‘jokes’, all shit ripped straight from the mouths of others. It’s all shit I’ve seen before by other people. If I absorbed even more of this bullshit, I’d probably be able to see exact wordings in here too, I am THAT certain you didn’t think about this for yourself.

If you did, you would have noticed that you were repeating the exact same mistakes you constantly criticize in others. You would have seen that you were making assumptions based on your preconceived notion of ‘RWBY bad’ and not what the show itself was doing. You would have seen the vidnictive smugness you decried MatPat over. You would have seen the immense hypocrisy you called out before. You would have stuck to what you called your principles.

You have the failures of your biggest targets in this very video. The bias and brain rot of Quinton Reviews, the hack job of MatPat, the manipulativeness of Verlsify, the sheer level of bullshit of Cvit. You burned every single standard you set for others here, you did every wrong thing you screamed about, you failed in the same ways as those you profited from criticizing. Again, because I said all this THE LAST TIME and yet you got WORSE. 

You mock and belittle the creators even as you give them every reason to treat you like shit because even the worst they’ve done looks justified compared to what you pulled. ‘Oh they said that people being mean is so bad!’ says the man preying on his weakness. ‘Oh he’s shit talking his critics!’ says the open liar. ‘Oh the writing was done by platypuses!’ says the man who wants to be taken seriously. ‘Oh it’s just a joke!’ Says the man who bitched out MatPat over jokes. 

And I guarantee you’ll cry foul at me if you ever find this, decrying me as just a salty RWBY fanboy. And this time, I’m not accepting any excuses. You HAD your chances. 

4chan trolls are more respectable than you. They have principles and stick to them. Fanboys are more respectable than you. They don’t claim to be anything else. And yes, your targets are more respectable than you. Their channels aren’t based on hypocrisy THIS deeply rooted.

I regret ever watching you because you were clearly speaking out of your ass.

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Post-Edit:

So i edited a couple of my less explained points to get my issue across. Just saying this here so that no one accuses me of editing the source for malicious purposes.

As for why I didn’t rewrite the last two sections to remove my anger: that stays to prove a point. I had tried to stay neutral or at least calm throughout the video. But my frustrations just kept on building as you became increasingly smug and condescending, even though you called out such shit against others. I can’t even respect your arguments as arguments because considering the erratic nature of this video as well as how out of place some of them are (”Orange Man Bad”): it sounds like you just took every single compliant ever said about Volume 7 and threw it in. 

You end all your videos saying ‘Examine Your Fandom’. Did you ever do that yourself?

[ravenforce]

Begin Again Pt. 1

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x OC!Daughter x Surprise!Character

Word Count: 1827

Warning/s:  Nothing? Except this will be a multi-chapter because this part is long AF, as per usual. LOL. 

A/N: Hey loves, I’m sorry for being MIA for a long time. I bled my heart and soul in this fic, and I guess I’m not really ready to end this journey. This fic is an alternative ending to See You in A minute, meaning Stardust didn’t happen. I hope you’ll like it. If you haven’t read the whole installation, I’ll put the links below. xx

Series: See You In A Minute | I’ll Never Love Again | Stardust

Alt. Ending: Begin Again Pt. 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

It’s quiet hilarious to see a room full of super powered being clamouring to have little Asya on their arms, cooing soft words of love and affirmation to the little miracle that is your daughter but it’s also reassuring. Seeing the Avengers, literally assembled for your daughter’s birth grounds Natasha in a way that she hasn’t felt in a long time since you passed. Seeing her family around your daughter gives her the strength and confidence that she can, indeed, do this because she’s not alone, not really.

***

Raising Asya as a single mother was overwhelming for Natasha. She wasn’t ready, not really. She thinks its infinitely better if you were there waking up at the middle of the night to a wailing child after putting her down only half an hour ago.

There were so many days where she imagines you in Tony’s place, offering to take over Asya so she can catch more than a few minutes of sleep. There were so many days where she wishes it’s you that’s making your daughter laugh instead of Thor. There were so many nights after she put Asya down to sleep where she breaks down and cries because she misses you.

She misses your light, your warmth, your arms around her, your steadfast belief in her ability to be good and your constant reassurance that she’s enough. She misses your undying support that even though she can do everything she puts her mind into, she doesn’t have to because she has you. You stood by her, you fought alongside her, you loved her, you carried half of her burden and God does she wish to have you back in her arms if only the world’s a wish-granting machine.

But Natasha knew a long time ago that the world is cruel. So she allowed herself to break down at nights but come morning, Natasha resolves to be the best version of herself to be the mother Asya deserves.

***

Three

Toddlers are a handful, except Asya’s not like any other kid who yells and wails and pulls a tantrum to get what they want. No, Asya is very diplomatic. Ever since she learned her words, Asya has been a very good communicator since.

How she’s talking way too straight for a three years old was beyond all of them. Except for Tony and the pediatrician and child psychologist Bruce brought in, with Natasha’s approval of course, believe that Asya may be speaking straighter than most kids her age because of the stimulus around her. Asya lives with three adults and an eleven-year-old, no one talks to her like she’s a baby. So she doesn’t talk like one either.

At three, Asya and Natasha have developed a very close bond. Even though they live and share common spaces with the Starks, she’s closest to her mother. She loves following Nat around, and Nat doesn’t complain about it. She’s a brilliant, radiant child and Nat loves being with her because Asya, amidst not meeting you, carries on so much of you in her; not just your eyes, and it makes Nat feel like she has her best friend back.

***

Nat and Asya have established a fairly good routine by now. Every morning, Nat takes her on her morning hike around the property where they sweat and soak up some sun. Asya loves hiking with Nat, where halfway she asked her mother to give her a piggyback ride. Nat doesn’t complain, Asya practically weights anything. Asya also uses this time to ask Nat questions about anything and everything under the sun. Sometimes she makes Nat tell her stories about you and Nat talks her head off until they get back to the house.

After hiking, they would shower and then have some breakfast, mostly with the Starks. Nat's lucky that Asya’s not a picky eater. Breakfast is always a joy, the Starks loves Asya especially Morgan who treats her like a baby sister. Sometimes, Peter would swing by to catch up with Iron Dad, and his adoptive siblings.

***

After breakfast, everyone breaks off to do their stuff. Nat goes to S.H.I.E.L.D three times a week to help Deputy Director Hill on things. It has been a careful deliberation and discussion with her family before everyone agreed that not being coop up in the house is good for Nat. Tony only agreed after Nat promises that she'll do solely HQ work, no mission of any kind whatsoever.

Nat brings Asya along with her. At first, Nat was hesitant but Asya knows how to behave especially when she’s in public. She stays at her mother’s side or Auntie Maria when Nat has to step away for a minute.

After Asya’s first visit, S.H.I.E.L.D gave her an official ID that allows her to enter the premises. On her second visit, Maria gave her a tailored S.H.I.E.L.D uniform with ‘Romanova-Y/L/N' embroidered on it, which she insisted on wearing every time they go to work. Asya strutting around the HQ in her uniform gave her power over all agents on duty, Director Fury included. Nat rolls her eyes lovingly every time Asya bats her long eyelashes to get everyone to scram and procure whatever she wants.

“She is truly both yours and Y/N's daughter,” Maria commented after sitting next to Nat on the command center and watching Asya interact with the other agents.

“I’m scared that she’s this good at three,” Nat said chuckling.  

***

Maria never asks Nat to stay in the HQ all day, and in the event does she does, Maria always takes them to dinner. Nat and Maria maintained a very professional relationship between them in the past but without you and before Asya, Nat became more reclusive which worried her family. So Maria took a chance at friendship the moment she heard about Asya. Nat was surprised when Maria herself, without Nick, came down with flowers to congratulate her. They’ve become really good friends since then.

If Nat's dismissed from HQ early, Nat always brings Asya to Stardust Diner – your favorite - either before or after they go to a museums, library and/or the aquarium. Asya’s sense of wonder came from you, which only makes Nat fall in love with your little miracle more.

***

At night, a part of their nightly rituals is either Nat reading one of your books or showing her the scrapbook the team made to Asya. It’s a collection of photos with you that they’re able to unearth on their camera rolls. Most of them are hilarious, especially those photos of you goofing around with the boys. Some of them are downright sweet, like the photo of you and Wanda cuddling one movie night or the photo of you on Thor's back when you sprained your ankle after a recon mission. Looking at the photos always reminds Nat that she’s not grieving alone, the whole team, the whole family lost you too.

Sometimes it’ll be overwhelming for Nat, and Asya - bless her attentiveness and empathy - would close the scrapbook herself and cuddle her mother. On nights like this, Asya always ends up sleeping over in Nat’s room.

“It’s okay mama, I miss mom too,” Asya would murmur half asleep as she lay on Nat’s chest.

Even though it still hurts, Asya’s presence never fails to soothe her aching heart and soul. With Asya secure in her arms, Nat still sleeps with some semblance of peace.

***

Five

Life will keep moving forward whether you get on it or not but life was put on hold one morning after everyone received Thor’s request for an emergency meeting at HQ. The tension in the room is so thick, one can cut it with a plastic spoon. Tony’s pacing the room, Carol’s bouncing her leg on her seat, even Bucky’s tapping his fingers on the table.

“Relax. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Nat tried to assure the team.

“I don’t know how to relax. The last time we were all in the same room the world was ending,” Tony whispered through gritted teeth. Pepper put a hand on his shoulder and he instantly stopped moving and sighed.

“Maybe I should go check on Thor?” Carol asked as she rises from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. She’s nervous too, Tony’s right the last time they were all gathered together they lost you and Vision.

Just as Carol changed into her Captain Marvel uniform, an alarm sounded in the room; signaling Thor’s spaceship landing in the compound. Their collective hearts hammered as strong as the engines of the spacecraft.

“Finally,” Scott sighed.

***

It took a couple of more minutes before the engines died down. By the time, its entrance opened the whole team has gathered at its mouth. Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill are standing a little further, watching the whole scene.

“What’s happening Nick?” Maria asked.

Nick just shook his head. “Wait for it,” he said.

Rocket was the first to board off, he is still salty as per usual. Everyone gave him high fives. When he got to Nat and Asya, he smiled. Asya ruffled his head, everyone’s shock Rocket didn’t make a fuss.

“You’re in for a surprise, kid,” he said as he handed Asya a space rock. Asya and Morgan's growing a collection, most of them are from Carol. Asya thanked his furry little uncle before turning her attention to the rock.

Before Nat could say anything, Loki and Thor walked out of ship together. Nat tried to read the Asgardians but they’re not giving themselves away. The moment Thor set foot on dirt, there’s a cacophony of greetings and questions.

“Woah! Woah! Take a breathe people, there is no threat,” Thor said.

“If there’s no threat then why haul everyone here? Even T'Challa left Wakanda for this,” Sam said a little frustrated.

Before Thor can say anything else, everyone turned at the sound of another footstep inside the ship. When the person whose said footsteps belong to emerged, every single one of them lost their breath and their tether to earth and sanity.

***

Stepping off the spaceship was none other than you.

Taglist: @natthisback @5aftermidnight

[nikkzwrites]

Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 5

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence, Suicide Mentions, Cutting, Violence.

Word Count:  7.4k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Everything for the adults was just as it was 33 years ago. For them, there was a feeling of hopelessness. Trapped in a cycle they didn’t know how to remove themselves from.

Jonas lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. He really didn’t have the energy to get out of bed at all. He didn’t hear the now normal chipperness of Annalise getting ready for the morning nor did he hear his mother making breakfast or having Ulrich over. Everything felt drab without some semblance of happiness in the house. His phone vibrated on his nightstand causing him to snap out of his thoughts. He reached over to it to reveal a text from Martha saying that they needed to talk. He put the phone down and rubbed the red string in his hand.

Martha, on the other side of town, awaited his answer. She sighed as she waited. The girl just wanted to clear the air and have everything work out. She wanted this tension to go away.

Bartosz dialed his girlfriend’s number hoping she was finally going to pick up. His face dropped as he just got sent straight to voicemail.

Annalise lay outside. She looked dirty and covered in morning dew. Her hair tousled, tangled with leaves, sticks, and matted from not drying properly. She picked up her phone to write a text to Bartosz about Martha and Jonas from last night. She ended up deleting it before her phone died. Better off, Annalise reasoned, there was no reason to worry Bartosz more than he was doing already. Her heart ached. She dropped her phone onto her chest as she looked up at the canopy of branches above her.

Charlotte had a sit down with her youngest daughter trying to question her about what she knew about the boys that had gone missing. Ever since Elisabeth had told her about Noah, she had a bad feeling. She tried to push her daughter for information by telling Elisabeth that it had also happened to Yasin now. All this did though was made her daughter start to cry frustrated and upset. Elisabeth couldn’t believe that this had also happened to her Yasin. She started to slowly open up by telling Charlotte what he looked like prompting Charlotte to start to arrange a sketch artist to head to the house so that Elisabeth could help give an idea of what Noah would look like. As Charlotte tried to leave Peter confronted her only for Charlotte to snap at him telling him that she knew he was hiding something from her. Then she stormed out of the house to get back to her job.

In 1986, Ines tried to give Mikkel a present. It was wrapped in yellow paper that reminded him of Annalise, yet he still refused to take it. Ines sat down next to him and asked, “Don’t you finally want to talk to me?” She sighed and asked, “Is there maybe someone I should tell that you’re okay? Your parents, they...They must be worried. You don’t have to say what happened to you if you don’t want to, but… If you want, no matter what it is, you can tell me.” She tried to comfort him, “It’s safe with me. I promise.”

Back in 2019, The stranger looked at his board of connections. He pulled off another day from the calendar and packed up his suitcase as if he was going to go somewhere.

It started to rain across Winden. Bartosz thought maybe now Martha would finally answer him. He tried one last time before reaching her voicemail again. He tossed his phone to the side and stared at Erik’s burner phone. He also tossed it aside right before it started to ring. Bartosz turned his head then reached to answer the call.

Hannah stood outside the Nielsen’s door. She was greeted by the sight of Martha. She showed the girl a dish she had made as an excuse to see Ulrich and lied, “I wanted Katharina to have…”

Katharina walked over and stared at the woman. She looked her up and down for a second and greeted her, “Hannah.”

Hannah shrugged and tried to laugh it off, “I...I figured you weren’t in the mood to cook right now… With all of this… And I thought…”

Katharina quickly took it from her and thanked her. She offered the other woman to come inside. She really didn’t want Hannah there, but she really couldn’t be rude to the woman.

Hannah looked over to the blonde and asked, “How’s Martha and Magnus?”

Katharina didn’t know how to verbalize anything so she just shrugged and shook her head.

“And Ulrich,” Hannah tried to pry.

Katharina shook her head again and said, “I don’t know.” She felt so defeated. She was trying so hard to be strong. To have the perfect family she never had, but here she was. She felt like the failure her mother always called her.

Hannah looked down the back at the other woman, “Where is he?”

“In the shower,” Katharina answered honestly. They both sat in silence as they heard heavy footsteps walking towards them knowing exactly who it was.

Ulrich popped his head in looking for Katharina. When he saw Hannah, his heart dropped. He greeted her simply by her name, “Hannah.” He, then, asked, “What are you doing here?”

Seeing Hannah struggle for words, Katharina interrupted and said, “Hannah brought us some food.”

Ulrich walked deeper into the room to check the validity of the statement, seeing that she was telling the truth, he looked back at the two women. He stated simply, “I have to go to the station.”

Desperate, Hannah asked, “Can you give me a ride? I came by bike. It’s raining so hard. Only if...”

Katharina nodded, “Of course Ulrich can give you a ride.” She stared at her husband knowingly.

Ulrich walked to his wife and kissed her head gently before starting to lead Hannah out.

“Hannah,” Katharina interrupted. She walked over to the brunette and hugged her. She held her close. Even if she suspected her, Katharina appreciated that Hannah had even pretended to show empathy. Katharina was craving any sort of empathy for her situation despite trying so hard to push people away and keep her walls up for no one to see her crying, “Thanks for the food.”

“And, really,” Hannah said embracing the other woman as well, “if you need anything, call me.” Then she left with Ulrich.

Seeing Jonas’s bike gone, Annalise decided it was safe for her to sneak back inside the house. She climbed the siding, shimmied across the house, then opened her cracked window to let herself in. Sadly, she had no idea how creaky her window actually was. When she opened it, the entire house echoed with the noise.

Surprised and trying to get ready to go to Bartosz’s to play video games and hang out, Jonas walked to Annalise’s room. This was the first noise he had heard all morning so he assumed maybe she was just trying to get some fresh air into her room, like one of those princesses in the movies. When he walked in though, Jonas was greeted with the sight of her sneaking back in. The boy studied her. She seemed ragged. He snapped himself out of it so that way he could help her get in. “Hey,” He greeted her once she was fully inside and looking at him.

“Hey.” She replied abruptly. She really had hoped he wasn’t home. What was she going to do to explain why she was outside. Annalise wasn’t privy to lying. She couldn’t even look the boy in the eye right now. She was almost frozen, yet she couldn’t stop fidgeting. 

Jonas smiled gently. He gently took her phone from her pocket and placed it to charge. Jonas knew this reaction well. After what happened to his own father, he often had these moments while in the hospital so he thought he knew exactly what to do. He, then, took her arm and walked her to the bathroom so she could freshen up. “Having issues,” He asked gently.

Annalise started to cry. The dirt on her cheeks falling with the tears. She nodded not knowing how to tell him what she was feeling.

He gently wiped her tears away. He gently cooed, “It’s okay. I know. I miss mine too. I also know you and Mikkel were very close.”

Annalise wanted to scream at him. She wanted so badly to push him away and scream. How was he so dumb, she thought. She couldn’t though. Her voice couldn’t find itself. She just kept crying. Her weeping becoming louder.

Jonas tenderly pet her head, “It’s okay… It’s okay Lise. Why don’t you take a shower? I’m sure you’ll feel a bit better after you clean up.”

Nodding feverishly, Annalise shakily rubbed her face and walked into the bathroom to clean up. She just wanted to put them at a distance from each other. The girl wanted to escape from what she understood was pity. It was very clear to her that Jonas had no idea that he was actually part of the problem.

With the door between them, Jonas called, “I am going to Bartosz’s. Why don’t you head over if you are feeling up for it?”

“Can’t,” Annalise’s trembling voice told him, “I’m meeting up with Martha.”

Jonas smiled with tears forming in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, “See. You’ll feel better in no time then.”

He, however, did not know that Annalise was actually dreading seeing her friend again. That she was not going to be feeling better soon and that actually going to be at Martha’s side would make Annalise’s life even more miserable.

The bearded stranger walked up to the main front desk. He gently placed a box on the counter and placed his key on top. He politely requested, “Could you deliver this for me? Here, locally.”

“Are you leaving us already,” Regina asked a little relieved.

The man replied, “I have to go away for a few days.” He bowed his head politely, “But I’d like to keep the room if I can.” He looked up at her pleadingly.

Regina answered him, “Certainly, that’s no problem.”

“It needs to be delivered by this evening,” the man explained, “It’s important.”

Terrified, Regina nodded, “Yes, of course.”

Finally arriving at his best friend’s Jonas collapsed on the sofa. He sat and took a hit off his friend’s bong to help himself relax. As he was lighting it, Bartosz turned and asked, “Where were you this morning? I tried to reach you all morning. Don’t tell me you and Anna-”

“Therapy,” Jonas quickly interrupted.

Bartosz turned away from his friend and nodded. He asked, “Have you heard from Martha?” Jonas looked back at his friend panicked. He wondered if he knew. Did Lise talk to him? His mind started to race. “She’s not calling me back and... ” Bartosz trailed off trying to explain why he asked Jonas, “I don’t know what she needs, the whole thing is so fucked up.” Bartosz lamented to his best friend unaware of Jonas’s own stake in the game.

Jonas tried to play it off and comforted the boy, “She’ll get in touch when she’s ready.” He wondered if he should ask about Annalise though. Regardless of all of their arguing, he could tell Bartosz really cared and probably would have better insight into the girl. Bartosz just had a strange way of showing kinship.

Bartosz stared at Jonas for a second and nodded, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Come on, let’s play.” They picked up the controllers and tried to ignore the tension in the room by playing the game. He asked while playing, “Can I trust you?” This made Jonas extra paranoid now. Annalise must have talked to him. Maybe that’s why she was so upset and wasn’t talking to him this morning. Maybe- Bartosz interrupted Jonas’s thoughts and clarified, “If I tell you a secret. Can I trust you not to tell anyone else?”

Jonas’s face showed his confusion for a split second then he turned to his friend, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m in contact with Erik’s dealer,” He commented not taking his eyes off the game. Jonas let out a laugh thinking his friend was joking, but Bartosz continued, “And I’m meeting him tonight.”

Jonas laughed and asked, “You’re doing what?”

Bartosz still focused on the game, scolded, “Watch it! Shoot! No!” Irritated that he lost, he tossed the controller to the side and looked at Jonas, “I’m going there tonight in any case and I want you to come along.”

Jonas looked at him like the boy was crazy. DIdn’t Bartosz know people were going missing?  Did he have a death wish? Maybe this was a death wish and he wanted to take Jonas down with him.

“Can I count on you?” Bartosz interrupted Jonas’s thoughts.

Jonas stared at him, he studied the boy. There was no way he knew. Bartosz wouldn’t have gone through all of this if he had known what was going on. Instead, Bartosz would have stormed into his house and just decked him. Jonas forced a smile and a small shrug, “Yeah, sure. Always.”

Charlotte tried hard to make all of the connections while in 1986, Noah walked up to a small boy named Mikkel in the hospital.

The pastor introduced himself, “I’m Noah. I’m a priest at St. Christopher’s Church. Ines called me.” Mikkel just stared at his Future Man comic book. Noah then asked, “Do you believe in God?” Mikkel shook his head at the man. Noah then asked, “How do you believe the world came to be? Who created all the beautiful things?”

“The world came to be through the Big Bang,” Mikkel explained to the man, “13.8 billion years ago. That’s how space, time, and matter came to be, and Earth as well. The rest is evolution.”

Noah asked trying to retort, “And what was there before the Big Bang? Nothing can arise from nothing. Maybe the Big Bang is nothing more than God’s act of creation.”

“My father says religion is the brainwashing of the masses,” Mikkel told the man matter-of-factly.

Noah nodded. He commented back, “I’m sure your father knows a lot, but he does not know everything. It’s good that he raised you to question things. But every now and then, it’s good to question those who question things. God has a plan for every human being, including you.”

In 2019, Ulrich sat in the car with Hannah annoyed as the rain thrashed his car. He turned to her and said, “I want you to stop calling me. Okay? Just stop. I can’t do this anymore.”

Hannah looked at the man and asked, “Is that what am I to you? Some damn affair? It’s not something you can just switch off. I can’t and neither can you.” Ulrich turned away from her. “Look at me,” she demanded, “Look at me! And now tell me there’s nothing there. That this doesn’t mean shit to you. No matter what you need, I’m here for you.”

Ulrich leaned over towards the woman and asked, “What I need?” He leaned forward to open her door, “Don’t call me. Don’t come by. Just leave us alone. Okay?” He laid it out as if he was talking to a child. Hannah sat there frozen. She had no idea it was going to turn out like this. Ulrich, annoyed, lost his temper, “Get lost!”

Hannah’s devious smile grew across her face as she laughed, “Don’t think that I’m just going to let you go.” She got out the car to see Annalise standing outside looking rather pretty. She laughed and asked, “Going out?”

Annalise nodded, “Martha told me that her dad was coming drop you off so I can grab a ride with him to the school to help her get ready and watch her dress rehearsal.”

Hannah nodded and said, “Ah.” She walked inside and said, “Well you didn’t need to get all dressed up for that, did you? Anyway, don’t be too late. Jonas will worry.”

Annalise nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” She took her small umbrella and walked over to Ulrich’s car getting in. Hannah watched as Ulrich smiled as if looking at his own daughter. He wrapped an arm around her for a quick greeting hug before Annalise put on her seatbelt and drove off with the man.

Hannah then thought back to a memory of 33 years prior. 

Ulrich was telling her about an interest he had. He explained, “And then she says, ‘When you grow up, your heart dies.’ That line hits you, bam! Right in your face, you know?” He hopped a bit in the school hall, “And in the end, you think they’ve become friends because that created a bond between them. But in the end, they’re all stuck in their little pigeonholes.”

Hannah asked, “Maybe you want to see it again with me?” Ulrich got lost looking at Katharina across the hall. Hannah hit his shoulder to get him to pay attention to her again, “Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

“Y-yeah,” He stuttered shaking it off. He gently touched Hannah’s shoulder and walked to go see Katharina. Hannah sighed as she watched him go and ask, “Hey, girls, what are you up to? Wanna go out for a smoke?” She watched as he let his hand rest down near Katharina’s to signal her to take his hand and interlace his fingers with hers.

Back in the real world, Hannah turned and walked back into her house.

Katharina sat as she remembered the first time she should have known Hannah would try and rip Ulrich and her apart.

33 years ago, Ulrich and Katharina had decided to have sex in the gym equipment closet. They talked it out so that they agreed to both the act and to use protection because in her words she wanted to, “never have kids.”

At the same time 33 years ago, Mikkel was taken under child protective services. They wanted to put him into a children’s home, but this made Ines feel uncomfortable. The social services representative tried her hardest to calm Ines about the situation, but the nurse didn’t know about it. She had until Wednesday to devise a plan for what she was going to do.

In 2019, Ulrich explained why he decided to become a police officer to Charlotte as they tried to piece together who would do this. He was just s angry after Mads disappearance that he wanted to make sure that those mistakes were to never happen again. He relented about how he actually instead became nearly exactly like the man he was trying to never be.

“Have you ever heard of the 33-year cycle,” Charlotte asked. When Ulrich shook his head, Charlotte explained, “Our calendars are wrong, a year isn’t 365 days long. We’re always a bit ‘out of sync,’ so to speak. But every 33 years everything is just like it was. The stars, the planets, the whole universe returns to the exact same position. The lunar-solar cycle. My grandpa was obsessed with such things, the Big Bang and the Big Crunch. Nietzsche’s eternal recurrence. When I was little, I always felt that something was wrong with Winden. I have that same feeling again. That everything’s repeating. That this has all happened before. Like a massive deja vu.”

Jonas sat on the bench at the graveyard. He stared at his father’s grave in contemplation. He really didn’t know what he should do. He was waiting for a sign to give him the right path. That was when the bearded stranger walked and sat next to him. “You look like him,” the stranger commented, “Your father.” He nodded towards his grave.

Jonas looked at the man confused. “Do we know each other,” he asked angrily.

The man looked at the boy. He shook his head and whispered, “No, but I knew your father. It was a long time ago, but I remember him well.” Jonas looked toward his father’s grave as the man continued, “He saved my life and introduced me to the girl who loved me more than anything back then, but I only understood that much later. Life is a labyrinth. Some people wander around their whole lives looking for a way out, but there’s only one path and it leads you ever deeper. You don’t understand it until you’ve reached the center.” Jonas swallowed hard thinking on his own life. The man looked back at the boy and advised, “Death is incomprehensible, but you can make peace with it. Till then you should ask yourself each day if you’ve made the right decisions.” The man stood up and walked away to start his work once more. Leaving behind a befuddled Jonas staring at his father’s grave for answers.

It was at this time in 1986, that Hannah met Mikkel for the first time at the hospital. Her father had brought her with him while he was working. He warned her that it was going to be a while and he watched as his daughter nodded at him. He asked if she was okay seeing her so upset. Hannah lied to him telling him that she was. Soon after he left, she noticed the boy in the mirrors.

Mikkel sat on the bench finally opening the present. He had decided to try and pretend for a second that it was actually a gift that Annalise had given him. He tried to keep the paper pristine so that he could keep it to remember his friend. When he turned the gift over, he realized it was a book. A book titled, ‘I am not Afraid.’ 

While the boy looked at his book, Hannah walked and sat next to him. Mikkel ignored her at first until Hannah spoke up and asked, “Do you think I’m pretty?” When the boy only looked at her she sighed, “Well great.” She sulked then told the boy, “Know what I sometimes imagine? That I can do magic. I imagine that I want something. Really badly. And then it happens, because I imagine it. Like moving that bottle cap.” She motioned to it.

Mikkel looked down at the cap then up at her and asked, “Do you know Houdini?”

“Who,” Hannah asked.

“Harry Houdini,” Mikkel explained excitedly, “one of the world’s greatest magicians.” Hannah shook her head. Mikkel shrugged then picked up the bottle cap. He explained, “There is no such thing as magic, just illusion. Things only change when we change them.” He closed his fist around the bottle cap and sleight of hand it to the next while Hannah was looking in his eyes while talking, “But you have to do it skillfully, in secret. Then it seems like magic.” He passed his fists over each other, then hit them together to reveal that the bottle cap had moved.

Hannah impressed with the boy, asked, “Where did you learn that?”

“I’m from the future,” Mikkel explained.

Hannah laughed and said, “You’re cool.”

Mikkel smiled and joked, “No, I’m Mikkel.”

“Hi, Mikkel, boy from the future. I’m Hannah,” she extended her hand to shake his. 

Mikkel took it and shook. He looked back down at the book and paper in his lap.

This was when Ulrich and Katharina had snuck into the gym closet to start their activity… only for Hannah to spy them when her father took her to the school to take care of some of the linens there.

Martha, in 2019, stood on stage in her costume reciting, “My mother told me about the old world. Before the flood. She said it had been of a different kind. Foul. She would braid my hair and recount harrowing tales, of my father and of the demons from the underworlds.” 

As Martha said her speech, Jonas walked to the school. He stood in front debating if he was making the right choice before barreling through it. At the same time, the stranger walked away with tears in his eyes knowing exactly what he had done and that this was all going to play out the exact same way as it did previously. 

“She said all is forgiven, but nothing is forgotten,” Martha’s speech continued, “Then the darkness in her eyes was greater than usual. And her words flowed like waves. She said all was well now the way it was.” 

Annalise sat forward in her seat. She was on edge. It was as if she could feel this was important. Something deep inside almost screamed at her to take this message and run.

The play continued, “That all occupied its own space, in the past as in the here and now. When she spoke in this manner, something would overcome her. She would pull my braids tightly as if to punish me for something that dwelled in a place deep within her.” 

Jonas stared at the girl from the doorway as Martha continued, “Something that tugged at her from the center, like a hunger that could never be satisfied. She spoke of yesterday as though it were before her every eyes. As if today was but a veil that shrouded in shadow all that was real to her. The old world came to haunter her like a ghost that whispered to her in a dream how to erect the new world stone by stone. From then on, I knew that nothing changes. That all things remain as before. The spinning wheel turns, round and round in a circle. One fate tied to the next. A thread, red like blood, that cleaves together all our deeds.”

Annalise’s heart raced as Martha spoke, “One cannot unravel knots, but they can be severed. He severed ours, with the sharpest blade.”

Martha looked out into the audience and saw Jonas sitting there. She slipped up for a split second before being able to continue one more, “Yet something remains behind cannot be severed. An invisible bond.”

Bartosz started to call his friend wondering where he was. Jonas had said he was going to meet him. Why wasn’t he there yet? When he got sent straight to voicemail, he cursed aloud. 

Annalise blinked. There was a long pause there that Martha normally did not do. Her face mapped her confusion as she tried to read her friend, but it was almost as if she wasn’t there to Martha anymore.

“On many nights, he tugs on it,” Martha started the next phase of her monologue, “And then I wake up with a start, knowing that nothing ceases to be. That all remains.”

Bartosz tossed his bike down then jogged into the forest to go and meet up with Noah.

After the rehearsal, Annalise smiled and hugged Martha. She giggled and said, “You did great! I have some critiques for you, but we can go over those when I get back.” Annalise grabbed Martha’s empty water and shook it, “I’m going to go fill this up for you.”

Martha nodded. “I’ll be here,” She called to her friend who went deeper into the backstage area. As she was taking off her lipstick in the mirror, she noticed the boy approach her.

“That was great,” Jonas said awkwardly, “You were great.”

Martha stared at him then asked upset, “What are you doing here?” She knew she had asked to speak with him, but not now. Not when Annalise could come back at any moment to interrupt them.

“I wanted to tell you something,” the boy explained walking closer. Jonas paused. He looked down and admitted, “I wasn’t in France. I was in the nuthouse.” Annalise had come back at this point. She heard Jonas and stayed behind the curtain and listened in peaking through a small crack. Jonas explained, “They call it post-traumatic stress.”

Martha asked, forgetting that Annalise should have been back, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a freak,” Jonas tried to laugh through the pain he was feeling. Martha shook her head trying to process him saying that. Jonas then asked, “What happened between us last summer wasn’t just nothing, was it?” Martha shook her head trying not to cry herself. “I mean if my father hadn’t…” Jonas started to ask, “If this hadn’t happened…”

Annalise’s heart started to ache. It was being tugged in so many directions. She wanted to interrupt. She wanted to run, yet her feet stayed firmly rooted in the ground. It was as if the Earth wanted her to see this. It was her punishment for not just taking Mikkel home that night.

“It’s okay,” Martha tried to comfort him.

Jonas stared at her then asked, “Why did you call me this morning and not Bartosz?”

Martha stood up. She was having trouble finding the words. She walked over to him. Martha stared at him for a moment before grabbing his face and kissing him.

Annalise fumbled back. Her gasp left unheard to the others in the room. When she saw Jonas start kissing back though, the world decided that it was enough punishment. It released her and Annalise bolted out the door dropping the water behind her.

Hearing the clatter of everything and the rush of wind past them, the couple broke away. “Annalise,” Martha cried out. She watched as the last of her friend was out the door and going faster than she could catch up.

Jonas blinked hearing Martha call to Annalise. His head shifted from Martha to the door then back. He slowly realized what had happened and ran after her. 

Annalise ran faster than she ever did on German soil. She honed in her track skills from her school in America and just kept running nonstop. She could hear the steps of someone trying to catch up behind her, but all that made her do is run even faster to get away from whoever was chasing her. She thought of everything. She tried to remember her experiences with long-distance running with her own father. How proud he was when she won her first metal. Something he told her rang within her, “Run faster than anything even if you miss a hurdle or two, you will still get there. Just run. Use all your anger and frustration about failure and push on through.”

Jonas panted as he pushed himself trying to catch up. Just when he was getting close, she seemed to just go even faster. He tried to grab onto her, but she was always just out of his reach. Jonas couldn’t even talk or try to call her name at the speed they were running at. He ended up slowing down. He doubled over coughing. Pain filled tears gathered at the edge of his eyes. He watched as the girl ran even farther into the woods leaving him behind.

Annalise didn’t stop until she was out of the woods to the main road. She slowed her running to a light jog. She looked around. Regina’s hotel wasn’t too far, she reasoned. The girl sighed. She walked along the road heading to the closest convenience store to get something to drink.

Bartosz watched as a car drove up to him. He looked into it seeing a man in priest’s clothing. He introduced himself then entered the vehicle to speak with the man.

At this same time 33 years ago, another Kahnwald ended up betraying someone they loved dearly. Only instead of letting the truth slip out, Hannah told a lie and told the police that Ulrich had raped Katharina.

In the present, Katharina lay in Mikkel’s bed. She felt Ulrich come up behind her. While they embraced Katharina asked, “I will only ask this once. Are you cheating on me?”

“I’d never do that,” Ulrich lied to his wife after waiting a few moments.

Bartosz exited Noah’s car. He sighed and looked towards the power plant. As his eyes scanned, he noticed a figure stumbling across the street. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it, but it looked very familiar. The beating of his heart echoed in his ears when he realized just who it was. He jogged across the street and called, “Anna.”

Annalise took another large drink of her mixed drink a very kind older man had given her. She smiled gently. It reminded her of the drinks she heard about back home. Fruit punch, Red Bull, vodka mixed in the right fashion still only seemed like fruit punch. He had given her a large bottle just with a few bucks and for “looking cute.” She drank as she made her way to the bus stop out of Winden. The burning sensation masking her heart being torn apart at the seams. 

Bartosz easily caught up to the girl and grabbed her arm, “Anna! What are you doing, idiot?!” He kept a firm grip on her. Frustration rose into his chest. Where did she even get what she was drinking? Where was she going? Shouldn’t she be with Jonas or Martha or nearly anyone else? She never went anywhere alone.

“I’m going home,” she answered simply, “Now please let me go.” She tried to jerk away.

He shook his head, “What are you drinking? Jonas’s place is that way.” He gestured with his shoulder towards where his best friend lived. He stared at the girl floundering to get away from him. His heart started to ache. More than that. He was angry. Furious even. Filled to the brim with an anger he had never known before.

Annalise started to cry as she tried to tear away from his grip, “Let me go!” She started to yell at him. Tears built up pressure behind her eyes as she remembered back to what had driven her to this point. How she wished for the rain to finally start in this God abandoned town. The wind howled as it shook the trees awake. At least, she reasoned, that was on her side. “Let me go, Bartosz,” she repeated screaming at him with the full force she wanted to let out at everyone.

“No!” He roared back at her. He growled and continued to hold her there despite her struggle. He held onto her shoulders lawlessly despite her telling him that he was hurting her. He didn’t stop until he saw her liquid sadness drip from her eyes. His brain clicked. He pulled her into his arms. She always annoyed him because she always saw straight through him. To Annalise, Bartosz wasn’t even someone to be considered. He, and in some relation even herself, never got any of her attention unless he terrorized the girl. She never gave herself priority unless he forced her to put herself first through exaggeratedly pointing out the hypocrisy or absurdity of her actions or behavior. He wrapped himself around her. Was she always this tiny, he wondered. It was his first time ever fully embracing her. He had to bend down a bit to bury his face into her shoulder and neck. Oh, how it felt nice to finally hold someone, to hold her, in his arms, but he couldn’t dwell on his own happiness. He needed her to be happy. He thirst to see her smiling and laughing again.

Annalise beat her fists into the taller boy as the tears fell from her eyes. She continued to scream at him to let her go. The girl struggled as he just held her in an embrace. Her breathing was off. The thumping his chest made as she hit it reminded her how much she just wanted him to be someone else. She just wanted to go back home but she could never tell him that. Annalise hated every moment of this. She hated every moment of Winden. She just wanted to go back in time to right before she saw that moment and never see Martha grabbing Jonas’s face to... 

Bartosz pulled his face away. There was something he had heard Magnus mention before while Mikkel was throwing a tantrum. He needed to distract her from her emotions so that Annalise could actually TELL him what was going on. He sighed knowing he was going to hate himself later for indulging the part of him that just revealed its ugly head, but he had to do it. With one hand, he trapped her wrists from continuing to beat into his chest. The other he used to grab her face. Bartosz pressed his lips against hers. 

The girl froze. His lips were so desperate. She could feel his yearning for her to stop and think about what she was doing. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to kiss him back. There was a saltiness to it, yet tender and warm. Soon, she felt her wrists freed from his grip. She just gently rested her hands against the boy’s chest as his now unoccupied hand found a new home at the small of her back. Annalise forgot just who was kissing her. She was drunk, longing for love, and finally acquired a bit of that feeling of being wanted.

Bartosz pulled away gently. Annalise reached up and pressed his forehead against hers. Her eyes closed as the last of her tears drained from her. He calmed himself and asked, “Anna, what’s wrong?” He gently brushed her wild hair from her face, unstuck some strands stuck around her eyes from her tears, and put it in a place not easy to get stuck there again.

Her face contorted in agony. The fountain of sorrow slowly turned back on. Something about this moment felt as if something similar had happened before. It felt as if she, him, the moment, it was all supposed to happen. “I,” she started. She took a breath and then confessed, “I saw Martha kiss Jonas.” She choked on her words and started to cough.

Bartosz cooed at her and held her close once more, “It’s okay.” He swallowed hard and rocked with her. The boy just repeated that it was okay, that he was there with her, he wasn’t going to leave her, that everything was going to be okay until he could feel her body start to go limp. She must have been exhausted, he figured. He scooped her up and walked to his bike. He gently put the spent girl on it and lead them to the bike stop. He, then, tried to call Franziska. Unsurprisingly, she did not answer his call. He rolled his eyes and called Magnus then.

Magnus stared at Bartosz trying to call him. He never did that. His brow furrowed. “Hello,” he answered confused.

“Hey,” Bartosz replied. The boy looked at Annalise’s soft breathing on his bike. He shook his head. He placed his phone on his shoulder so that he could cradle her once more. “I have a giant favor to ask you.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, “Yeah? What’s that? Finally asking if you can screw my sister? Fuck off.”

“No,” Bartosz replied offended. He noticed Annalise start to stir from her slumber. He whispered, “I need to get in touch with Franziska.”

This made Magnus sit up. He growled as he asked, “Why?”

Bartosz huffed, “I have Annalise here. She’s drunk and needs a place to stay. I am very well not having her stay at my place.”

“Why didn’t you call Jonas,” Magnus asked annoyed.

“Why didn’t you call Jonas,” Bartosz mocked. He, then, angrily whispered, “Why do you think she’s drunk, asshole. They got into an argument.”

Magnus growled now more angry at Jonas than Bartosz. He sneered. He got up to start to get ready to go pick her up, “I’ll just grab her and bring her back. I’m sure Martha misses her anyway. She came home crying whimpering about Annalise.”

“No, no no,” Bartosz panicked. He nearly dropped his phone. The boy sighed and confessed, “I think it’s about her. Now can you just link me up with Franziska?”

“Okay.” Magnus simply hung up. He, then, called Franziska. He quickly explained that Bartosz needed to talk to her and that he would really appreciate it if she could do what he asked.

Franziska sighed as she called Bartosz back. “Hey,” she said disgustedly.

“Hey,” Bartosz started. He gently laid Annalise on the bench so that he could handle the phone better again, “Can you please talk your parents into allowing Annalise sta-”

“I already did,” Franziska interrupted, “Just bring her over. You better be glad this isn’t your precious Martha.” She quickly hung up with him and waited outside for the boy.

Bartosz sighed as he looked at his phone. He placed it into his pocket. He took off his outer jacket and wrapped it around the girl. He manipulated her to gently rest on his back. He then grabbed his bike and walked to the redhead’s house.

For the first time since Mikkel disappeared, Annalise didn’t have nightmares. Instead, she just floated in a dark void almost like an ocean that rocked her back and forth slowly. A small splash that resembled a groan would sound, but it only helped keep her suspended in this feeling of warmth, acceptance, and serenity. 

Franziska intervened before he got too close to her house. She helped slide the other girl off his back. “So what happened,” she asked.

“She and Jonas got into it about Martha,” Bartosz answered simply. He gently removed his jacket from Annalise and put it back on. He reached into his pockets and asked, “How much do I owe you for taking her in and taking care of her?”

Franziska shook her head, “Magnus asked it as a favor. Why are you helping-”

“How much will it take for you not to mention me when she wakes up then,” He asked. From hearing Annalise mumble in her sleep, he could already tell she was going to forget about their encounter by the morning. He clarified, “I want to make sure she doesn’t remember this unless it’s in her own will and in the cards for her to remember. Tell her whatever she needs to hear to make sure she doesn’t question too hard. This is also for you not to ask me questions.” He started to count out at least 150 Euros in his head.

Franziska stopped him, “That’s enough.” She pocketed the money and slowly brought her inside. She shook her head at the craziness that she just found herself in.

Bartosz watched to make sure they got inside before he started to walk back home himself. His heart staying behind with the drunk girl who would forget about all of this and him once again in the morning. 

Jonas ended up back home. He walked into his bedroom to find a package. He quickly opened it to find a round futuristic flashlight. There was also a letter to him, from his father. He grabbed it and quickly started to read it.

Dear Jonas,

By the time you read this everything will have happened, irrevocably. It can no longer be changed. I would have liked to explain things to you sooner, but I hope once you understand how everything is connected, you will understand my decision. The truth is a strange thing. You can try to suppress it, but it will always find its way back to the surface. We make a lie into our truth in order to survive. We try to forget. Until we can’t anymore. We don’t know even half og the mysteries of this world. We are all wanderers in the darkness. This is my truth. On November 4, 2019, I traveled through time to the year 1986. The boy from the future stayed, and in time he became a man. Mikkel became Michael, who never knew where he belonged. By the time you read this, I’ll already be gone. Both as a boy and as a man. I hope you can forgive me. Everything is connected.

Mikkel/Michael.

Jonas stared at confusion at the message. His jaw dropped as he came to the realization.

Tannhaus sat at his desk fixing his clock when a man walked in. He was ratty and dirty. There was a scar across his neck. He looked at the man and said, “I’d like to talk to you about time.”