#though i do think marrow would probably fall first and winter would need more time to grow before any shipping

[seasicksilver]

bring back this duo RWBY and my life is yours!!!!!!

[itsclydebitches]

I’ve been seeing an uptick in “anti-RWDE” posts lately  — which is a phenomenon I’d like to comment on at a later date  — but for now one of them (quite unintentionally) made me realize something about the finale that I haven’t seen others discuss yet. 

So RWBYJNOR saves everyone, right? Let’s just put aside the animation for a moment  — which didn’t show any army members making it out  — as well as the forgotten side characters  — Maria, Pietro, Qrow’s group isn’t forgotten, but still left behind  — and take things on good faith here. We’ll read the finale through the thematic intention: RWBYJNOR saved “everyone” in the Kingdom of Atlas in Volume 8, deliberately contrasting them with Ironwood who was willing to sacrifice a chunk of the Kingdom in Volume 7. Forget all the messiness and just accept that regardless of the consequences  — like a destroyed Kingdom and a “dead” team  — the heroes are heroic because they didn’t give into a “lesser evil” thinking and managed to save everyone. 

Now, how was that possible? 

Let’s go back to the beginning of the seventh episode of Volume 8, “War.” Salem’s grimm have just burrowed through Atlas’ defenses and taken them out. The shields are gone. She flies Monstra into the fields and releases an army of darkness that immediately heads for the city. What’s the very first thing Ironwood does? 

Soldier: Yes, sir?

Ironwood: I am evacuating all citizens to the subway. Prepare Manta Squad Omega, and dispatch to every part of Atlas.

Soldier: But sir-

Ironwood: Now!

He evacuates the people, with “the people” meaning all the Atlesians and however many Mantle folk got to the city prior to Salem’s arrival. When this episode aired I mentioned being confused as to why the soldier was so hesitant. Why wouldn’t you want the people to get to safety when a grimm army is heading their way? Fans against Ironwood took the soldier’s side, claiming that Mountain Glenn proved that any underground evacuation is a death sentence and thus he obviously doesn’t really care about the peoples’ safety. Fans in support of/neutral towards Ironwood pointed out that this is a pretty big leap, no one is coming up with a better idea for what he should do instead, and that within these circumstances it reads like the soldiers is illogically against this idea simply because everyone is against Ironwood now. The show wants characters criticizing his decisions and making him out to look like a crazed dictator... even during moments when it doesn’t make any sense to be upset with him. Shooting the councilman yes, trying to keep the people safe no. Basically, this small exchange was a mess, but the rest of the volume proved that this was a sound call. The subway never collapsed and no grimm ever made it to that enclosed space to pick the civilians off like fish in an underground barrel. 

So, why didn’t that happen? Well, one answer is because Oscar and Ozpin destroyed the whale. But how did they have time to do that? Without the people dying while they were being tortured, talking to Hazel, escaping with Emerald, fighting Salem, etc.? A lot happened between Salem starting her attack and Oscar ending it, so why wasn’t 2/3rds of the Kingdom’s population decimated during that time? 

Because Ironwood sent his army out to keep the grimm occupied. 

Outside of Ironwood’s cartoon villain actions  — random murders and bomb threats  — which get the most attention due to how deliberately, over-the-top horrific they are, these are the two actions that get the most negative attention from both the story and the fanbase. The soldier seems horrified by the order to evacuate. Marrow is devastated that young adults are fighting in this battle. The fandom is disgusted by both aspects of Ironwood’s character: giving orders that, as general, he expects to be obeyed and having an army that follows those orders. Putting side that cartoon villainy, this is what supposedly makes Ironwood the antagonist here. These are the qualities that have existed since Volume 2, resulting in a “he was always a bad guy” interpretation. These are the qualities that have resulted in anyone who likes his character being labeled as a “bootlicker.” We know these qualities make the fandom hate him because otherwise, more people would be confused as to why a presumably heroic character randomly shot Oscar. Orders, armies, and general military associations are at the heart of Ironwood’s presumed villainy. 

So let’s remove them. 

Ironwood has no evil army. Ironwood gives no evil orders. Power and control lies solely in the hands of our non-military heroes. Everything is better! 

...well, no. Because we saw in Volume 8 precisely the choices our heroes made when the attack started: half of them focused on saving a single individual (Oscar) and the other half kept to the sidelines. At no point did our RWB group act after sending the message and prior to securing the Staff. AKA, during the attack of Salem’s army. We got a very explicit moment in which Ruby looked out the window at the battle going on and turned away from it, continuing to discuss ethics instead of joining the fight. The people of Atlas (which, again, includes many Mantle citizens) had no one but Ironwood and his army because a third of the group was trying to rescue Oscar (they never even had a plan to blow up Monstra — that was also Ironwood), a third of the group was up in Amity, and a third was sitting in the mansion. They did nothing to help the people of Atlas being attacked by grimm. 

Thus, if you remove Ironwood’s actions, everything goes to hell. There is no longer an order to evacuate to the subway. Maybe some people go there anyway. Most probably don’t. They run in a panic wherever they can. Hide wherever they can. Go back home for some semblance of safety. 

There’s no longer an army. Either it doesn’t exist because we’ve determined it’s simplistically bad despite RWBY’s grimm-specific context, or Ironwood likewise never gives the order to protect Atlas’ border. Salem’s army moves unimpeded through the city, killing countless people as it goes. How do we know? Because they’re civilians who can’t defend themselves and there’s literally no one else to help. Remember: Ironwood is not giving orders, there is no army, RWB is in the mansion, YJOR is in the whale, Penny is out of commission, the Happy Huntresses are in Mantle. Those in Atlas are entirely alone. In time, Oscar destroys the whale, but by then it’s too late. There’s no concrete way to theorize how many have died, but it’s inevitably a lot. Everyone else is scatted across the city, trying to survive. 

So this scene 

no longer exists. 

When the group gets the Staff and creates portals for “everyone” to escape through, Mantle is ready to go. They’ve gotten everyone into the crater and can funnel them straight to Vacuo. Atlas, however, is in chaos. When Jaune enters the subway there’s only a few people there, many of which may be wounded or dying. He’s right back where he started, in Mantle at the beginning of Volume 8: needing to go door-to-door to find where people have hidden themselves, trying to convince them all to follow him (remember Oscar commenting to Ozpin about how difficult that was?). Except now, he and Nora are the only ones trying to get people to safey, the city is filled with far more grimm, a significant amount of time has passed for people to be killed or injured (making evacuating them even harder, both due to injuries and an unwillingness to leave hurt/dead/missing loved ones behind), he’s trying to convince these panicking people to go through magic portals, not just walk to a crater, and he’s aware that there’s a very short time limit for this task. 

Jaune returns in a panic of his own, explaining how difficult it will be to get that 2/3rds of the Kingdom to Vacuo. How many are already dead. Barricaded. Missing. Closeup on Ruby looking horrified, but then she rallies. They can do it. Atlas is falling, but residual dust gives them just enough time to find, calm, and evacuate those people. They’re heroes after all. Beating the odds is what they do. 

Then Cinder attacks. 

Suddenly, the group can’t evacuate people because they’re trying to keep themselves safe from her. Maybe Cinder gets the powers because Jaune was off looking for civilians, leaving Penny without a mercy kill. Maybe Nora dies because she’s still trying to help people on the city that plows into the one below. Regardless of how details might change, they’re not getting a spread out, decimated population through those portals before Cinder changes the wish and makes them disappear.  

In this version, the story starts with Ironwood wanting to sacrifice 1/3rd of the population to save 2/3rds and the future of the war. It ends with 2/3rds of the population dying instead. 

This is what I mean when I say the majority of the fandom wants to view a very complex situation through a ridiculously simple lens. The fandom wants to denounce every bit of RWBY’s fictionalized military, the context issues of that aside. The story wants to paint RWBYJNOR as the only heroes, in part because they succeeded in saving everyone (“everyone”) in the Kingdom when Ironwood gave up. 

But they only managed to save everyone because of Ironwood. Because he kept fighting for his people to the bitter end. This is why, though his horrific actions obviously exist in the story, they make no sense (he’ll threaten to kill his people so he can... save his people?) and mess up what little is working in the finale. The story wants us to celebrate the group for evacuating Mantle and Atlas, but the Atlas evacuation would not have happened if not for Ironwood’s actions  — the actions that are ignored in favor of having Winter blame him for everything and then killing him off. The rescue of “everyone” was very much a joint effort. RWBYJNOR’s win is not actually a contrast to Ironwood’s intended sacrifice, for the simple reason that their win depended entirely on Ironwood’s actions. 

If we’re going to celebrate the group getting everyone to safety, we should probably also celebrate the guy who got them all to an easy evacuation point and ensured they weren’t eaten before then. Does that mean Ironwood never did anything wrong? Of course not. As established, the story went out of its way to make him into a villain. Rather, it means that other parts of the story failed to maintain that black and white view, complicating the heroism of RWBYJNOR in the process. If we want Ironwood to be incapable of heroic action, always the bad guy, nothing good to say about him whatsoever... then we likewise need to accept that the group is rather unheroic in many regards too. That, on their own, they would have failed to save everyone, just as Ironwood’s plan failed to save everyone at the end of Volume 7. Because they chose their friend over a kingdom. Because they sat around in a mansion. Because by the time they took action again and tried to escape, without Ironwood’s help they would have lost a larger majority than they originally insisted be saved. 

[theseerasures]

watch Winter not even be in the elevator with Marrow watch her have covered her ass that he "escaped" from her god why is she LIKE THIS why are we seeing Winter at her absolute best right before we're going to see her at her absolute worst—

GOD okay look

there’s this common sensical thing that people say sometimes, that in moments of crisis you find out who people REALLY are, and i’ve always thought it was bullshit for the same reason i’ve always thought “being drunk reveals who you are” is bullshit, which is that “who you really are” encompasses all of you, and not just whatever uninhibited survival lizard brain emerges in specific situations

but i do think it’s a fabulous tool for fiction, because (most) fiction relies on consistent characterization, so moments of crisis CAN be a precise distillation of All That You Are, in a way that’s contiguous to who you were before. this season has been nothing but one crisis after another, and accordingly we’ve learned who these people are when pushed to their limit. Ironwood is a perfect example of this, but Ruby’s another great one, because what we’ve learned about her is what we’ve always suspected about her: that there comes a time when even her boundless compassion and idealism run dry, so that moments of Ruby at her best--vaporizing the Hound, saving Penny--are interspersed with moments of Ruby at her worst, which are basically...just an overwhelmed seventeen year old girl still grieving for her mother.

and what this season has shown about Winter, who has been in the (literal!) trenches of the crisis, is that Winter is remarkably consistent.

i don’t just mean consistent DURING crisis, the way that her boss has been consistently awful. i mean that you can draw a line for Winter that extends through the current war with Salem, through her outburst at the dinner table, through “you stole an Atlas airship,” all the way to when we first met her, and she almost immediately got into a fight with Qrow. what we’ve learned about Winter through all of this is that though she tries (poorly) to mask it, though she has learned to sometimes use it to her advantage, she is never not the precise distillation of All That She Is, at that exact volume.

Winter’s mind is always in crisis; she spends her entire life anticipating where the next blow will fall--whether on herself, or on someone else. i’ve already waxed poetic on this elsewhere, so i won’t belabor it too much, but. the point is this: i don’t think it’s so much an issue of “Winter’s at her absolute best, therefore she will be at her worst later,” as it is “Winter is always at the same extreme,” which means Winter’s absolute best is never not her absolute worst at the exact same time.

don’t get me wrong: there is a certain euphoria in seeing Winter act in the way she does in Risk. she IS the best of herself there. best in the way James Ironwood defined it when he first took her on as his protege and bodyguard, because she acts quickly and decisively, while even the AceOps are still frozen. but she’s also best in the radically compassionate way that perfectly aligns with the show’s moral thesis, which is why all of us still root for her, even now: Winter does not actually believe in leaving people behind. not absolutely, and not forever. (and we’ve always known this, because we only meet her through Weiss.) i joke about her compulsively imprinting on anyone younger than her, but i think that if it had been Elm, Vine, or even Harriet in Marrow’s position Winter would have done the exact same thing. that’s just what Winter does, and Winter is never not turning her entire identity into a verb.

Winter is at her best here because she achieved a good outcome, the one she was aiming for. but Winter is also at her worst here, in the same way that she has CONSISTENTLY been throughout the show, which is that Winter refuses to take responsibility for anything outside of the immediate instance, and when she does save people, it’s only in a way that does not disturb the status quo. it’s telling that she saved Marrow’s life by attacking Marrow--Marrow, when she could have attacked Ironwood instead--knocked the gun out of his hand, knocked him to the ground, tossed him to the brig, called off the bomb...

but she couldn’t have, really. not only because some part of her still loves James Ironwood, but also because while everyone was looking at Marrow, while no one was looking at her, Winter was triaging the way she always does. and the conclusion she reached is the one she always reaches, which is: she can’t rely on anyone else. certainly not in this situation, when Marrow is the one who NEEDS help, when Elm and Vine stood by and watched as Ironwood raged, when Harriet was the one who turned his ire on her in the first place, when they are all her subordinates, and so--she is alone. and, the part of her that’s still the child in the Manor says, she can’t win this. she can’t do anything.

Maria once told Ruby: you don’t give yourself enough credit, and: that wasn’t a compliment. the same, i think, holds true for Winter, but the difference is that Ruby still tries in big ways, even when she can’t acknowledge the fruits of her labor, while Winter...Winter had the trying beaten out of her a long time ago. that’s why she saved Marrow’s life in that way, and that’s why the coin of what Winter is gonna do after still feels like it’s flipping in the air. maybe she isn’t in the elevator because of what you said! maybe she is, but because she was GENUINELY going to put Marrow in the brig, because at least there he’d be safe. maybe they’re both there and ready to defect. maybe neither of them are on the elevator at all.

predicting what’s gonna happen next this season is as always a ludicrous venture, but (*puts on my jester’s hat in preparation for being wrong*): much as i’m loathe to ruin everyone’s excitement over team BRAS, i don’t think Winter is leaving Atlas Command. that’s the whole point of doing what she did; she’s evacuating the boat, not rocking it. that’s what she’s always done: we’ll drop you off as close as we can to the monster. i’m giving you a head start. a head start so no one will catch them, but also a head start so that she can remain behind, watch their backs. women and children first. everyone else first, including--even now--the man she wishes was her father. and only then herself.

and when it comes to Winter in the end, likely more alone than we’ve ever seen her...we are going to see the worst of her, but only because we always do. it’ll look less like a Final Choice, and more like the non-choices she’s been making coming home to roost. sooner or later Ironwood will realize that part of the reason he’s running out of pieces to play is because of her, and sooner or later Winter will realize that at some point you’re not leaving me has turned into i’m not leaving.

it turns out when you make enough non-choices, they slip into choices anyway. and Winter has only ever made one kind of non-choice, an infinitesimal sidestep to avoid disturbing the universe, so the outcome of these things depend entirely on the context. the outcomes so far have been favorable, so it’s possible (probable?) that, like with Ironwood last season, we’re due for a reversal. at the same time, though, Ultimatum introduces the obvious wrinkle: that an outcome good for the world isn’t necessarily good for Winter. it’s possible that that will hold true again for her in the end.

or it’s possible that the reverse will be true instead.

[rizumary]

Like A Soda Pop (part.2)

This was the highest peak of Hajime Iwaizumi’s delicate springtime of life—according to Tooru, who definitely didn’t have any say in Hajime’s love life. At all. (Or, the one where Iwaizumi got overwhelmed by a kouhai’s not-entirely-unwelcomed romantic advances and Oikawa did have any say in his love life, after all.) [Iwaizumi/OC; confession fic]

Writer: nutteu | AO3 version [part 1] ー [part 2]

There were days that felt like Akeno; soft, airy cotton candy days filled with wondering eyes and quick-silver heartbeats. Where his hands trembled with the confusion of wanting to hold Akeno’s hand or to punch the wall because he was too overwhelmed by her.

But, there were also days when Hajime felt like he ached so deep within his marrow. The cramp from their latest bout of harsh practices, the looming threat of competitions, the painful anxiety of losing, of not being able to play a little bit longer—just a little bit more—

For people like Tobio, like Ushijima, even Tooru, the ache must have been filled to the brim with growth and potentials. But for Hajime, it felt like bone deep weariness and fear. That it wasn’t enough, that he didn’t try hard enough, that eventually, he wouldn’t be able to catch up no matter how hard he worked for it. He was neither the gifted nor the talented. All he had was his love for volleyballs, and the stubborn, unmoving desire of reaching the pinnacle of championships with his team.

On those days, he smiled less, hit the balls harder than ever, took every cramp and ache in his muscles. He came early, went home the last. On those days, there was nothing he would like to do but scream, and practice until his legs give out; nothing but staying away from everyone and curl up and cry. The juxtaposing needs made him tired, so tired.

Tooru knew, of course he knew. On those days, he gave as good as he could; teased less, and pacified the other members when they were worried about Hajime’s unusual walls he erected around him. They all got used to it, in the end, letting him vent out his frustrations instead of coddling him. Joked around and acted like he didn’t run himself to the ground just the day before. They didn’t ask, because there were certain things that couldn’t be shared unless they were awake in the middle of the night, or too tired to pay attention properly after a rigorous training camp.

Akeno Hana brought a change to that—abruptly, with her brand of awkwardness and earnest intention.

When everyone else had left, she waited in the gym for him, sitting on the polished floor with a terrifying focus on her delicate face. Hajime almost jumped in surprise when he realized that he wasn’t alone. The irritation was fast to catch up to him. Tooru really needed something to gag his stupidly big mouth. A fist, preferably.

As if reading the hard lines on his face, Hana shook her head and talked first to soother his fraying nerves. “No one told me, they wouldn’t. No one sells you out, Iwaizumi-senpai. Although, they’re as worried as I am. I just—“ she hesitated, and Hajime let out a long sigh. It wouldn’t do anything to snap at her just because she was on the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He reached for his bottle of water and towel, and sat next to her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t mad at you. Things are just… difficult for me sometimes,” he said. He didn’t know why he bothered explaining this to her. He never did, not even to Tooru; not even to his mom, though she probably understood anyway. Maybe it was the way Hana just showed to him that she perceived and paid attention more than anyone thought, maybe it was the patience he saw in her eyes, maybe it was because—

Oh, God, he thought, heaving a deep sigh that suspiciously wavered at the end. He was tired, he was so tired. Worrying about his passion, the continuation of his education, his career path—it all built up inside his chest, and in days like these, he couldn’t rationalize it, couldn’t clear his head enough to control his mind and emotions.

Hana nodded, and took the box of something that he assumed was a bento. She unwrapped the cloth covering, and he noticed, out of his will, that her hands was delicate, pretty. Acutely in contrast with his calloused, blistered hands. He wanted to try holding her hands, he thought, and shook his head to banish the thought away. Hana didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“I, uh, I made this,” she started, sounding shy and proud. “I remembered that you mentioned you like these, and—and you made me chicken karaage too when I was sad. I wanted to help you too, senpai. But I don’t know if I can do something that actually counts, so I thought—maybe at least I can cheer you up with these?”

Hajime looked over, and was stunned to silence. On the red bento box, alongside the regular assortments, were agedashi tofu that glazed so beautifully Hajime was reminded of his hunger. But above the dish, and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch, the fact that she remembered, that she cared enough to try to cheer him up with this—Hajime swallowed, his throat felt dry all of the sudden. He forgot how to speak, for a moment.

“I—“ he croaked out, and was startled to realize that his eyes were watering. She must have been puzzled as to why he looked like he was about to cry right now, because she suddenly rambled in frantic manner, gesticulating with her hands as her small face scrunched up in worry and panic.

“Of course you don’t have to eat these if you don’t want to, senpai!” she hurried to explain. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude or to patronize! I swear, I just—“ she bit her lip, and looked at him with pale, pleading eyes. “I just wanted to help. Please, let me help, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

He managed a small smile, and took the bento from her hands; felt an electric current ran through his fingers when they brushed against hers. “No, this is more than enough, Akeno. Really,” he said, when Hana still looked unconvinced, “you’ve helped a lot by just being here.”

And that might be too honest, contained more implications than what Hajime would be willing to admit right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back or play it off as something mundane when Hana flashed him the most brilliant smile, happiness etched into the creases around her eyes. He smiled back, stronger, more sincere this time. They were silent after that, but it didn’t feel stifling. Just a comfortable silence to fill in the scant inches of distance between them.

On days like these, Hajime usually wore himself out until he couldn’t think, couldn’t stay awake long enough to let the fear consumed him. But this, he thought as he looked over to Hana’s still smiling face, it felt nice, too.

Hana confessed, out of the blue. Or not so much out of the blue for literally everyone.

It seemed like, Akeno still had one last surprise for him. The biggest, most unexpected surprise that actually felt like a massive, enormous bang in Hajime’s heart: a confession.

(Or maybe, just maybe, Hajime was too busy being conflicted with himself, too busy being enamored by Akeno Hana’s soft, sunny, enveloping charm, to notice that once again, Tooru was right. Hajime really was too dense about romance.)

At first it was like any other day. Of course, it wasn’t any other day. In his defense, Hajime rarely ever got the chance to marvel and enjoy the full extent of Valentine’s Day. Mostly because Valentine had no business at all in the volleyball court. It didn’t matter whether the whole school was in tizzy from the hormone buzz, if coach said lapped until they collapsed, then they’d lapped until they collapsed—Valentine’s Day or not.

Which was probably why Hajime didn’t suspected anything when Akeno walked alongside him, wrapped in her winter uniform and a pink scarf. It suited her, he thought, glancing down at the top of her head. She seemed… nervous. Or maybe she was just cold. She insisted on coming with him to the club, and it was pretty early in the morning. Maybe he could offer her his jacket, too? Yeah, he could do that.

When he opened his mouth to offer, however, Akeno ran ahead of him, before stopping, and extending something on both hands. For a moment, the world stopped. Hajime lost the words forming on his lips as he stared, open-mouthed, at the small, blue box in her gloved hand. She was bowing, her hair falling into curtains and hid the majority of her face, her voice though was as clear as the sun after a rainy day.

“I like you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

For a heart-stopping second, there was nothing but the faint sound of the students in the distance; the echo of Akeno’s confession ringing in his mind; his accelerating heartbeat beating drums in his ears. He stood there, stock still, too shocked to wrap his head around the situation. Did Akeno… just say that she liked him? Like, the girl who had been charming him left and right and leaving him feeling warm and fuzzy, was actually here, offering him a box of chocolate, and confessing to him? What?

Unfortunately, his mouth only caught up with the last part. “Uh,” he croaked out, hesitant, bewildered, overwhelmed. “What?”

Akeno looked up then, and Hajime suddenly had the epiphany that her reddened face since they met this morning wasn’t just from cold. But because she was holding this in. She looked—afraid, but determined.

“I fell in love with you since the first time we met, senpai,” she said, her voice wavering for a little bit, before strengthening. “I have heard things about you from Kyoutani, but the first time we met, I was immediately taken by your charm. You were so kind even when I was embarrassing myself, you were patient with me, you helped me a lot, you paid attention to me, and you—“ she stopped to take in a breath, and powered through, as though if she didn’t get this out right here, right now, she wouldn’t be able to let out everything in her chest. Her eyes were bright with affection and determination and shyness, but her next words carried on without a hitch.

“You made me feel welcomed. You made me feel accepted and protected, cared for and cherished. I’m so happy when you asked me about things I like, when you mean it, when you hold me as I tripped, when we played together in the arcade. Every day we ate our lunch together, I felt the happiest because I could sit by your side and get to know you more. I’m thankful, that you let me know you in return, and that you trust me enough to open up to me.” There was a small smile playing on the curve of her lips, almost shy, full of happiness as she recalled her memories of them together. “I—I know that there are other girls who you like better than me, but senpai, I, too, wanted to shine in your eyes because in mine, you are the only one I’ve ever had the eyes for.”

Their breaths puffed out in small rush of fog, eyes wide as they stared at each other. Hajime, every so slowly, took the box of chocolate from her hands, and stared at it in amazement. Akeno’s previous words played in continuous repeat inside his head. He was—surprised, extremely so. But his chest felt so warm, despite the weather. It was just that he didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust himself enough to talk properly.

Akeno must have translated his silence into objection, because she seemed even more flustered than before, and her words started to jumble together. “And! I just thought—I thought, I wanted senpai to know about my feelings. Because they feel like they’re about to burst from my chest. Like—like a soda pop! I just wanted you to know, that I like you, senpai! And that you are very precious to me, and I’m thankful for all your helps as well, and that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. So—so um—oh my god, what am I doing—“ she squeaked at herself, and looked up at Hajime with pleading eyes. “so—I just want to say—I like you so much, Iwaizumi-senpai.”

When Hajime still didn’t move, or say anything, Akeno visible gulped, and grinned stiffly. “Um, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say.” She laughed, awkward and very much still high on nervous energy. “Have a nice valentine!”

As she left him, he could faintly hear her murmur, “a nice valentine? Does that even make sense? Stupid Hana!” as she hit her head with her hand. Hajime took a long ass minute standing there, looking at her retreating back, and back to the box that he was pretty sure contained chocolates on his hand.

Everything was happening too fast for him to comprehend, and it almost felt like a dream. But it wasn’t. It didn’t feel so. Because the weight of the box was real, and Akeno’s swaying hair was still in his sight as she left, and the warmth that slowly spread inside him despite the coldness on his face was very much real. This wasn’t a dream. Akeno had actually confessed to him. As in, she liked him.

“Oh my Gods,” he whispered out brokenly after long minutes just staring at the spot where Akeno disappeared. “Oh my Gods she likes me too. Holy shit.”

The revelation, the sudden intensity of happiness, the giddiness that made him lost his breath. Hajime laughed, in disbelief and slightly hysteric because—he just couldn’t believe it. She liked him, as in liked him. . A romantic type of like, the one with fast heartbeats and the unbearable urge to hold their hands, or spend time with them, or smiling when they talked excitedly about their passion. The type of like that now had become one of the spotlights in his delicate springtime of life.

And then, he realized that for the entirety of the confession, he just stood there looking like a dead fish. “Oh my Gods,” he groaned, frustrated and panicked. He hoped Akeno didn’t make the wrong assumption. But then again, she might have. He didn’t even deign her with any answer whatsoever. Which, was fair. She didn’t ask him out or anything back there. So… so it was fine right? Right, it was fine that he didn’t answer because there was never a question to begin with. She just confessed her feelings, and then—and then Hajime could talk to her about his feelings too, and maybe then, he could ask her out. Yeah, sure, he could do that. He just needed to calm down first, and tried to wipe the giddy grin on his face.

(He didn’t meet Akeno for the rest of the day, but Tooru had seen the box of chocolate in his bag, and was so insufferably smug that Hajime had to punch him. He ate the chocolate at home. It was a tad bitter—she probably took the wrong type of chocolate—but it warmed his heart nonetheless.)

Akeno didn’t come to the club anymore after that. She avoided him in the hallways, didn’t come to their usual lunch time, didn’t reply to his messages, didn’t pick up his calls, even Kyoutani was at loss. Hajime was, to say the least, panicking. No, it wasn’t right, he was an absolute wreck.

He was worried about it to the point of considering just ambushing her after classes, but she would just squeak and run as she did these past few weeks. The other players had been asking about her, too. “Did you guys get into a fight?” they asked, or something like, “There’s finally a problem in the paradise, huh?” which would get a glare from Hajime, typically. He couldn’t exactly tell them that it wasn’t a fight; it was a confession, which was mutual, but they both were too dumb to deal with it properly.

It went on for about a month, before Hajime finally snapped, and turned to Tooru.

That motherfucker laughed. Of course he did. He spent his sweet ass time rolling on Hajime’s mattress, after eating Hajime’s cookies, laughing at Hajime’s misery. It hadn’t even been five minutes and Hajime had regretted this decision, very much so.

“So, in conclusion, she confessed to you, but was too nervous to ask you out and just hightailed it out of there?” Tooru asked, after calming down and wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied curtly, frustrated and was five seconds away from throwing Tooru out of the window.

“And you were so shocked that you didn’t even say anything? And then you just stupidly thought she’d come around after that?”

He wanted to punch Tooru for that, but in the end, he just conceded with a defeated, “Yeah.”

Tooru exploded into another bout of obnoxious laughter. “Oh my Gods!” he wailed, “oh my Gods, Hajime, this is precious! I can’t believe it!” he dissolved into another giggle, as Hajime groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. He should have never asked Tooru, this just increased his blood pressure and made him consider murder.

Finally, though, Tooru took a pity on him, and said, “Iwa-chan, hana-chan is a simple girl, you know? She likes cute and cool things, she forgets anyone else is in the room when she talks to you, she cries eating your bentos, and she makes you handmade chocolate on valentine. You don’t need grand gestures, just give back what she gave to you—sincerity and clear affection.”

Hajime was stunned for a moment. He actually half-expected Tooru to joke about this and didn’t actually give a useful advice. But he was surprised yet again. He considered it for a moment, and Tooru left him to it after some more teasings.

Something simple, something she liked, and something he knew meant a lot to her. For the first time in weeks, Hajime might have a clue about what he should do. He just hoped that he was right, that it would be enough to win Akeno back.

It was almost six in the morning, and Hajime barely slept a wink last night. He stared at the ceiling in his room hard enough to make himself dizzy, as if he could drill a hole through it. After spending ungodly hours at the arcade yesterday, and quite possibly losing his pocket money for two weeks and several blood vessels from anger and frustration at the crane machine, he finally got the god forsaken thing that thought—wished—would help him and his ironically comedic, disastrous, wonderful crush on Akeno Hana.

He managed to sleep at ten, and then woke up at one am, thinking about ugly things that might transpire when he confessed. He tried to calm himself down, but the thoughts of what if she lost interest, what if she got heartbroken, what if she—kept him wide awake until 4 in the morning. Finally, the memories of spending time with her, the soft curve of her smile, the shine in her eyes when she talked about arts and her dream, the way she looked so sincere, so pretty on the day she confessed, calmed his nerves down. Enough to catch a little bit of sleep.

It didn’t last long, though. He was sleep deprived, was running on nervous energy, and his stomach felt like a knife had been twisted into it. When he finally couldn’t take it, he took his phone from the charging station, and, before he could lose the short burst of bravery, dialed Akeno’s numbers. He knew that girl had a habit of running late to school. This might the only time when she wouldn’t be aware enough to reject his call.

As he predicted, the call connected, and Akeno’s groggy voice greeted him from the other side. She sounded like a child abruptly woken up from a nap. It was cute, but Hajime wasn’t going to be distracted by cute things. Regardless if the said cute things came from the very person he liked. Whom he was going to confess to. Today. In just a moment. Oh Gods, he wanted to throw up.

Instead, he strengthened his resolve, and said, “Go get ready. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Akeno sounded more awake then, cautious. “But… why, senpai?”

Why indeed. But Hajime couldn’t just back off now. He didn’t want to. A month filled with uncertainty about their relationship and the abrupt absence of Akeno in his life, was enough to fill his courage. He didn’t want to go through that again. “I really need to see you, Akeno.”

There was a soft hitch of breath, and then Akeno’s trembling voice. “Y-yeah—uh, I mean, yes, I’ll get ready. Um, take care on your way here, senpai.”

Akeno was already waiting on the front porch when he got there. She looked nervous, but there was a hesitant happiness that peeked through her pale eyes. Her mom waved at him from the door jam, and he bowed, nervous and awkward all at once. They parted with a knowing look from her, and walked to the nearest bus stop that Akeno usually took.

They walked side by side in silence, the both of them too nervous to break the tension between them. It was as if they were waiting on the edge, and Hajime felt like throwing up again. Even playing in tournaments didn’t feel nerve-wracking, even if both the tournaments and Akeno Hana were just as important to him.

Akeno was the first to break the silence, however, by tripping on the side of the road, over nothing. Hajime’s quick reflexes prevented her from falling over and scraped her knees on the pavement, and she shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, senpai.”

And maybe it was the familiarity, of holding her like this when she was about to fall, of the words he hadn’t heard in a month, of the smile he hadn’t seen much these days, that he just blurted out, “you’re so clumsy. If you got any clumsier than this, you might trip and lose your head, you know?”

Akeno, affronted, choked on air and replied, “Hey!”

He chuckled, and straightened her up. He started walking again, and Akeno followed his lead. Still looking ahead, he started pouring his heart out, so his gut could finally stop twisting, and his heart could finally calm itself down, and he could breathe once the truth was out.

“You’re so clumsy, and you easily got lost if someone didn’t hold your hand. You’re such a crybaby, and sometimes you’re either embarrassed too easily, or entirely too shameless. You look adorable either way.” Next to him, Akeno let out the trademark squeak of protest.

“You have no sense of personal space, and yet I like it when you’re close. Your eyes look the prettiest when you talk about your art; I just realized that you give your whole attention to me when I talk—and I like that as well. You always wake up late, you got these crazy eyes whenever you’re playing crane games, you cook well but you suck at making confectionaries. You are such a mess of genuine feeling and wonder, and I like you too much to even think about a proper confession.”

Next to him, Akeno had stopped walking completely, and instead was staring at him with wide, wide eyes. So he turned, and smiled, and said, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out,” he pulled out the item from his pocket, and keeping his fist close around it, he offered it in front of her. “Happy white valentine,” he said. “I got this for you, and you better like it because I didn’t just spend my time torturing myself in that cursed machine, and not getting a wink of sleep because I was too nervous.”

“Too nervous for what?” Akeno finally spoke after being shocked still for so long.

“To ask you out, of course,” he said, and it felt so easy, sliding off his lips in light cadence. It felt alarmingly natural on his tongue, like it waited his whole life to reach this delicate springtime of life to finally say it. “Instead of, you know, running away after the confession.”

At that, Akeno finally snapped out of the trance and pouted at him. Even pouting like that she still looked unfairly cute. Hajime was indeed going insane. Simp, he faintly heard Tooru’s voice whispered viciously in his head, complete with the shit-eating grin.

“Hey! It’s not nice to embarrass people like that!” she yelled, high pitched and patting her cheeks to alleviate some heat. They looked appropriately reddened. “I was nervous, okay. You know I do stupid things when I’m nervous, senpai,” she whined, and he chuckled low.

He stepped closer to her, and slowly, carefully, brought his hands to where Akeno’s were and wrapped them around bunny plushy he had tried so hard to get, her soft smiles in mind every time he failed to get it. Hana’s eyes widened, pale irises recognizing the object in her hands immediately, and held back a sob as she realized that Hajime remembered. “So, how about it? Will you go out with me? I promise I’ll make you karaage any time you like, and I made really good confectionaries, and you can steal all my jackets as you like and we can get you all the bunny plushies in the world and—“

And Akeno was laughing, crying, taking the bunny plushy from his hands and rushed forward to envelope him in the tiniest, warmest hug he had ever received in his whole life. “Yes,” he heard her saying, then, more clearly than ever, like a ringing bell in the foggy morning, “yes, I’ll go out with you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

And really, if people looked at them weird because they were hugging on the side of the road, crying and sniffling and giggling like middle school girls, Hajime could honestly give less than half a shit, because he was too busy wrapping his head around the unfathomable happiness that filled his heart to the brim. Oikawa was going to be insufferably smug, Hajime was too happy to even feel frustrated though.

Because they were shyly holding hands on their way to the bus stop, the bunny plushy safely strapped to Akeno’s bag, and her smile was bright enough to light the whole world. Hajime’s world, at least. And as he looked at her, smiling softly at the radiant joy on every line of her face, he felt his heart beat so loud he could hear it in his ears. Like his feelings and happiness and sheer force of affection for Hana was about to burst.

Like a soda pop.

[i-may-be-stupit]

Idk the horney got me, so here we are HAHAHAHA 18+ and kinda a bit of crack at times, ENJOY!!!!! Oh! And this is reletively gender neutral, babes!!

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). And you've always been known as a good kid. That is until your father was murdered by a hero. He did a lot of dirty work, sure, but he did it for his family to survive. And when a hero took him down, everyone cheered. They never though about his family. Nor his place in the world. They saw him as dirt. The same way you started seeing heros.

To you, heros didn't care about the villians and didn't care whether they died or lived. They were savage beasts who needed to be taken down. You became a villian. You would assassinate hero after hero with the simple tittle of "Marrow." And that's when you met the League.

They had the same ideals as you and could help make your dream a reality.

You joined the League, but you were still you. You were a seemingly innocent flower that blossomed in any form of villainous mayhem.

Your quirk was known as simply bone manipulation. You could manipulate your bones however you pleased and you could even shoot them out like needles. But, you were at higher risk for osteoporosis.

Its been 6 months since then and you've made yourself at home with the LOV. Twice and Toga were your closest friends now, but Shigaraki just hits different.

You'd go out and have fun with your two close friends, and to be honest, you're pretty sure that you three had pulled every prank possible on Dabi. Kurogiri was like a dad to you now. He gave lots of great advice and made sure that you kept up with your online college classes in between villian duties.

But shigaraki was a whole other story.

I mean, he was usually crule and hateful towards everyone, but the League was his soft spot. He treats members like family. He cherishes them. Even if he doesn't say it. He almost always have been putting them first.

And it made you kind of...attracted to him.

Yeah, he was dryer than the Saharan Desert, and had a diet of strictly microwavable ramen and redbull, but he was actually a good guy. You caught yourself staring at him a few times per day and your crush on him was appearant to you as well as all the other members.

So here you were, staring in awe at Tomura as he and Dabi played against eachother in Mortal Kombat. (They'd fight at least once a day, so Kurogiri made up the idea of fighting in Mortal combat instead whenever they got fed up with eachother) You blushed, seeing Shigaraki so serious. Ugh, there's just something about him...

Toga walked into the room and sat down in the loveseat next to you. She smirked before loudly announcing, "Gee, (Y/N)! It looks like your boyfriend, Tomura, is winning!" You started choking her.

No, deadass.

You fucking wrapped your hands around her neck and violently shook her head back and forth like Bart and Homer Simpson. Toga just laughed and moaned, causing you to feel too violated to keep choking her. You let go and as you did, Shigaraki stood up and started making fun of Dabi for being a "Bitch ass loser."

You blushed deeply, eyes lidded while gazing at the crusty boy. All you could see was Shigaraki, hearts around him as he did his breathtaking victory dance in slow motion. His gorgeous, dehydrated body swayed and jiggled happily as he jumped a few times, white specs gently fluttered from his head. His dandruff glistening in the florescent lights, as you sighed, absolutely smitten. Dabi rolled his eyes at his boss before looking at you. He then smirked. This cant be good.

Dabi chuckled. "Oh okay, Shiggy, you beat me fair and square." Shigaraki looked at him suspiciously. "It's okay though." He smirked, "Because I'm sure that (Y/N) can give me a little pick-me-up!"

The white haired boy glarred at Dabi then at you. Dabi slyly slipped over to you and Toga. He grabbed you be your wrist and pulled you up to stand. You were too flustered out of your mind to even do anything. He wrapped both of his hands around your waist. "Isn't that right, baby?"

You laughed awkwardly, "Dabi, not to be rude or anything, but you seem like a heavy man and I don't know if I could manage carrying all of your body weight if I were to pick you up, I mean my bones are kinda brittle as they are and-"

He brought his face to yours and kissed your neck softly. "We're gonna have some fun tonight, right?" You fucking hit him with a suplex, a small crack being heard from your hip. God damn it, your fucking brittle ass bones! Everyone burst out in laughter (aside from Kurogiri who was facepalming). Dabi sat on the floor rubbing his head in pain. "Fuck, (Y/N)! It was a joke!"

You folded your arms and frowned. "Well don't joke around with me like that!" Heat rose to your cheeks, "Especially in front of T-Tomura..." You looked at your boss to see him still too busy laughing at Dabi getting backflipped. You smiled shyly, holding your cheeks and wiggling like the love sick shit you are. He's so dreamy~ oh my, is he coughing up blood from laughing too hard?

You looked in disgust for a moment before sighing loudly. Ugh, it's so sexy when he coughs up blood! Shigaraki looked at his hand before licking the blood back into his mouth like a fucking heathen-

Sorry.

Your fucking heathen.

Later that night, everyone was out and about, leaving you and Shigaraki alone. He was drinking a glass of rum and coke as you doodled in a little notebook. You looked up to see him staring at you already. You both quickly looked away. It's been rough lately, dealing with your crush on him.

And Tomura was catching on.

Well, kinda.

He thinks he's really ugly and unworthy of love, so he thinks you just stare at him because you're still taken back at how hideous (he believes) he is. He's been wearing Father on his face more often and been getting more easily upset at you. But, he was also confused because he was starting to like your fragile self.

He's scared that he'll break you with one tap of the finger. That's just how fragile you seem. Shigaraki smiled softly, staring deeply into his glass.

(Y/N) seems so fragile, but they're a god damn hurricane.

Shigaraki swirled his cup around, deep in thought. How can they fight so well when they seem so brittle? It's strange. It's unexpected... It's interesting. Your boss' cheeks turned a tint of pink. (Y/N) can pull off a suplex on Dabi. Their back bent so far... I wonder what (Y/N) looks like arching it for me... He looked over at your figure. You were awkwardly dangling your feet off the couch, seeming to be lost in thought. Tomura sighed and took another whisk of his drink. They're way too cute for me...

There's been a lot of awkward times with you two alone. And you could both feel the tension. Shigaraki left to his room with a small sigh. He hates basically everything. But you? He might just love you.

You two hung out a lot actually. You'd play videogames together and have small movie nights for the two of you. You vividly remembered cuddling up beside him one winter night. It was snowing and you two chatted while sitting on the floor making Smores in the fireplace.

But it got harder and harder to be around eachother when you both started liking eachother. It got...awkward. And the night that Tomura asked you if you wanted to watch a horror movie with you and got a concerned face from you was the night his heart broke. You just didn't want to accidentally grab him at a jumpscare and have him laugh at you for being a pussy. But he thought that you just didnt trust him.

You sighed, thinking about that shitty night, and walked to Shigaraki's room. You had to tell him about your feelings. You knocked softly and was allowed to enter. Shigaraki was sitting in bed, wide awake, just sitting there, staring at the wall in front of him in thought.

You sat awkwardly on his bed in a tense silence for a good minute as the man just stared awkwardly at you through the hand on his face. Shigaraki sighed when he noticed you werent going to say anything, and he set Father down on his nightstand.

"(Y/N), I feel uncomfortable with you staring at me all the time." Heat rushed to your cheeks and you stared harder at the  ground. "I get that I'm ugly, but you should know how rude it is to stare-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" You glarred at him, anger boiling up. "The fuck did you just call yourself?!"

He glarred right back at you. "I said I was ugly, did I stutter?"

Yeah. Youre choosing to ignore that attitude. "Tomura, you're not ugly."

He rolled his eyes. "There is literally no other reason for you to be staring at me that much, mutt."

You folded your arms with a frown. "I think you're handsome."

He laughed.

He laughed hard as hell.

For a good 3 minutes straight.

"Oh thats a good one, (Y/N)! You know, I'm actually enjoying you-"

"I'm serious!" You poked his chest hard while getting closer to his face, your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. "I think you have pretty eyes!" You poked him again, "You have a pretty face!" You poked him one last time, "And you're an amazing leader!" Shigaraki went silent with a blush and so did you. You twittled your fingers together, looking away timidly. "I-uh... I think I l-like you, actually."

Tomura chuckled breathlessly with concern for your mental health, eyes darting around uncomfortably. "Are you being...serious...?"

"Mm-hm..."

"Oh....okay." He awkwardly looked away from you with a small blush. Hes never had anyone like him romantically. Actually, not a lot of people even like him generally. And it made it extra weird with you being so damn cute and funny to him. 

You layed down on his bed, anxiety rushing through you. It was weird to tell your boss that you liked him. I mean, its probably gonna be awkward between you two forever! Tomura layed down next to you. His hands overlapping eachother on his chest. You looked over to him with a small awkward smile. "So-uh... do you like me back...?"

Tomura frowned. "Are you fucking dumb??" You winced and he just rolled his eyes. "It would be impossible to not fall in love with you." A small chuckle left your lips as he softly started playing in your (h/t) hair.

You frowned. "Did I say you could touch my hair?"

He rolled his eyes before lifting you up to straddle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks. And you pushed his chest away as your (e/c) eyes darted away. "T-Tomura, what are y-you doing?" You were speechless and flustered. And it wasn't helping that his hands were laying on your waist (pinkies up of course).

Tomura chuckled with a mischevious look in his eyes. He slowly moved his hands up and down your sides. "Let me play with your hair...and as a reward..." He kissed you softly on your lips. "I'll make you feel things you've never felt before...." He licked your ear and you thanked the Lord for that because it just made his mouth a lil less crusty. "Deal?" His breath tickled your ears and your breathing turned into aroused, airy breaths.

"Deal..." Shigaraki smirked before kissing you roughly, his hand engulfed in your (h/t) hair, leaving his middle finger up of course. As his tongue darted around your mouth, he pulled your hair harder, causing a wince of pain from you. His lips left yours quickly.

"Am I being too rough?"

You smiled softly at him. He cares! "Oh, just a little."

Shigaraki grinned before pulling your hair even harder. "You'll get used to that." Your eyes widened in fear and pain as he threw you onto the bed roughly. He kissed you harder, and forced your thighs open with both of his hands, pinkies up.

He laughed with arousal, pressing his clothed member against you. You sighed as he grinded against your bottoms while tongue kissing you. His hands left your thighs and brought themselves to your body. He sucked, kissed, and bit all over your neck and his indexes and thumbs twirled and pulled at your nipples under your shirt.

"Ah-!" You moaned loudly as the man sucked at your soft spot. "T-Tomura!" A small gasp left your lips and his connected to your skin. Mumbled moans came from you, your hand over your mouth. Tomura glarred the second he heard a moan muffled. "H-Hey!" He had grabbed your hand from over your mouth and tightly gripped it with four fingers, pressing it against the headboard.

He grinned widely out of nowhere, "You really thought you could get away with hiding those beautiful sounds from me?" He sat up, unbuckling his jeans. His eyes went cold as he took off his pants and boxer briefs. "I'm gonna have to get some type of...hm, whats the word?" He looked away in though before smiling and snapping his fingers, "Compensation! Yeah...and I know just what I want from you." Shigaraki push you off of the bed roughly. You fell to the floor and rubbed your arm. He sat on the king-sized in front of you with his cock in his hand. "Suck."

You frowned at him. Did he really have to push you off like that? You got on your knees between his thighs and took a good look at it.

Fuck, he's hung...

You covered your mouth with a huge blush. Where the hell did that come from?! He was a good nine inches and quite thick. You frowned at him and pointed at his cock. "The fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He frowned.

Shigaraki didnt say another word. He just grabbed you by the hair and placed it against your lips. You frowned before licking the tip softly, making him laugh breathlessly. "Fuck..." You sucked on his tip and his hand tightened around your hair, pulling a bit. He looked down at you, smirking while absolutely flustered. "Ugh, your little mouth was made for my fat cock, wasn't it, (Y/N)?" He chuckled and pressed your head forward, forcing a bit more of him inside of you. Shigaraki panted as you bobbed your head back and forth on him. "Youre such a fucking slut..." His cheeks was tinted pink as he stared down at you. Tomura started bobbing your head back and forth on him. He laughed as you gagged on him. "What? Is it too big?" Your face went even hotter. How can he be so fucking conceited yet self conscious?! The white hair boy held your face and was practically thrusting into your mouth at this point. He threw his head back and groaned as cum filled your mouth. "Fuck, (Y/N), you're good at that." He watched you like prey as you thumbed the white substance dripping down your chin. You licked your thumb and he chuckled. "How does it taste?"

You smirked at him minscheviously while getting back on the bed. You took off your bottoms and short then spread your legs. "It tastes good enough to deserve a tip, right?" Shigaraki licked his lips as he crawled in between your thighs.

He rubbed you, playing with your slit. "Did sucking me off really get you this turned on?" You flushed and covered your eyes with your forearm. Tomura smirked mischievously as he licked at you. You moaned quietly, his tongue swirling around and his finger going in and out of your hole.

He stuck his ringerfinger in and you squeaked in pleasure. "Mmm... Tomura, I-just like that..." He sucked and licked, getting more sloppy as his fingers pumped in and out of you. He pumoed faster and faster and your small groans turned into loud moaning as you orgasmed. "Fuck Tomura! Ah-!" You came in his mouth, immediately apologizing. Shigaraki just licked his now soaked fingers and you just stared at him, blushing hard as hell. You smiled softly. "H-How do I taste?"

His red eyes prowled your body as he got on top of you. Your cheeks got hotter when he strattled you. You sighed as he rubbed his manhood against you. Small, flustered moans escaped your lips at his teasing. "You taste like you were missing something." His warm breath tickled your ear, "But I'll fix that right up for you."

Tomura slowly entered you. He groaned out your name in ecstasy. You were a bit uncomfortable at first at his thickness. "W-wait, dont move yet..." You breathed in and out slowly, feeling yourself adjust to him. A groan left your lips, "O-okay..."

Tomura grinded against you, kissing your neck as your hands fiddled with his hair. He started off slow, savoring the feeling of you. He sighed into your collarbone. "God, (Y/N), you're so tight..." He cursed underneath his breath, fucking you a bit faster.

Tears pricked at your eyes. This was almost too much for you. Youve always fantasized about being with Shigaraki and now that it was happening, it felt almost too good to be true. He grinded into you deeper, filling you up fully as his hand held both of tour wrists above your head. The bed rocked as he started thrusting into you faster and deeper. "T-Tomura, you feel so good inside of me!" He groaned louder and you couldn't help but become flustered at all of his noises.

He fucked you even faster and harder. "Fuck, youre mine now, okay?" You nodded and moaned louder at him. "Oh fuck!" His white hair bounced as he pulled out and flipped you over. You were on your forearms and knees, begging for him to keep fucking you good as he thrusted in and out, his hand pulling at your hair as the other gave the occasional spank on your ass. Tomura's thrusts became sloppy as you reached your peak. You both moaned loudly, his cum pouring from inside of you. Shigaraki pulled out and immediately collapsed next to you.

You panted as his arms wrapped themselves around you. You smiled at him. "That was good, right?" He chuckled and kissed your lips.

"The best."

You two spooned as Kurogiri had an extra glass of wine, in utter disgust at when he was forced to hear.

[rwby-sk]

My ship thoughts

This will be a long post, so I’m putting it under a ‘keep reading”

Bumbleby  - Until Vol.4 I wasn’t sure if the Bees liked each other. Like yeah, we’ve had solid evidence since, like, their Vol.1 trailers. But still. I wasn’t sure CRWBY would do it. But wow was I impressed.  - Probably my favorite well-known ship - Their EYES are the colors of each others SOULS what more do you want??? - I wish my gf would throw a motorcycle at my abusive ex...

Nuts and Dolts  - I tried pushing this ship out of my mind for so long. I did. I wasn’t ready for it  - I appreciated the things people made for the ship. I knew it had potential  - But wow. Vol.8 really said “Nuts and Dolts rights” and I respect that - They’re so cute together. It’s like if Pyrrha came back to life and could be with Jaune again.  - But healthier this way (see Arkos)

Renora  - Wholesome - Cute - ‘Boop’ is one of my favorite songs - We all saw it coming. But how we got there was the fun part  - That Vol. 4 finale though...

Arkos  - First off, Arkos is my favorite ship from Vol.1-3 - Himbo is taught how to drink his respect women juice by an Amazon? Sign me up  - The character development, the mutual respect, the CARE - ForeverFall still fucks me up. I cry when I listen to it - I love Pyrrha, she’s my girl, but... She really betrayed Jaune’s trust at the very end. He told her specifically he never wanted to be helpless and watch his friends fight for their lives again. And she did exactly that to him. Making him wonder if he could have made a difference had he been able to fight by her side with her in the end.  - But it’s not really even Pyrrha’s fault. Ozpin’s expectations and Cinder’s plan are more to blame - Still high tier - It’s just so tragic

WhiteKnight  - Cute in theory  - But it’d have to be done so carefully to be a good romantic pairing  - As friends? I LOVE IT. Make these two best friends right now! - But Jaune moved past his feelings for Weiss in Vol.2 when he finally realized she meant it when she told him she didn’t like him  - I’m shocked though that so few people pick up on Ep.3 Vol.1 when Weiss is making fun of Jaune and mockingly calls him a “cute boy”. I think Jaune just thought Weiss liked him already, and went from there. He hits on Pyrrha pretty quick in Ep.4 too - I think it could work with who they are now, but I think they’re better as friends 

WhiteRose  - The sole reason I didn’t ship Nuts and Dolts sooner  - Vol. 6 messed me up okay? That red scarf really threw me for a loop - Chasing each other in the Argus Limited?  - Weiss sassing Ruby non-stop Vol.1-3?  - It also completes the RW BY JP NR pairings. I like to joke that the Emerald forest is actually “true love” forest. And whoever you lock eyes with first you fall in love with them. But that only works sometimes  - Also that part where they call out each others names when Jinn shows them Ozpin’s past 

Ladybug  - Cute and interesting  - I’m not against it. I would just need more of it to ship it myself - They just have such solid connections with other characters  - I do love Blake’s introduction to the main cast though, and how much Blake looks up to Ruby 

Freezerburn  - Similar to LadyBug  - Cute, but I just ship them more with other people  - That hug in Vol.5 was a bit sus though - Yang does seem to open up the most with Weiss - And Weiss defended Yang so quickly after the Mercury fight  - It’s not unfounded, I’ll say that  - Analyzing it has opened my eyes 

Crosshares  - Yes  - Just  - Yes  - High femme fashion ICON Coco Adel  - With fan-fave Velvet Scarlatina - WLW powercouple  - I wish I was Coco and Velvet is cute, not much to understand here, keep scrolling 

RoseGarden  - I have my concerns  - Oscar is a wonderful kid  - He probably has a crush on Ruby  - And he is a wholesome boy who deserves all the happiness  - But he also has a manipulative immortal Wizard in his head  - So - You know

Lancaster  - I never saw Lancaster. Jaune is the first boy Ruby meets. And Jaune calls her cute and quirky once, but... - I love Ruby’s talk with Jaune about failure in Vol. 1, then his return to that speech in Vol. 4 in return.  - I think they lean on each other as leaders - But I don’t see it going further - Cute though. I’ve seen nice fanart 

BlackSun  - I read an analysis a long time ago that really sat with me  - Blake asked for space (not out loud, but in action) when she ran away - Yang gave her what she wanted. She didn’t like it. But she gave Blake what she asked for.  - Sun on the other hand, didn’t. He followed and helped her anyway. (Believe me, Blake could have used all the help she could get in Vol. 4-5) But in doing so, he kinda took himself out of the running as love interest.  - He’s and excellent Foil for Blake though, so I love him

SeaMonkies  - Two bros, chilling in a hot tub... - Is it gay to become junior detectives with your best friend and only hang out with him for like 3 seasons?  - These two are just  - So fucking stupid  - Apart, they are fine. Very competent.  - Together though - They are just so dumb I think its cute as hell 

JNR  - Wholesome  - I could see it in Argus. In front of Pyrrha’s statue - They love each other  - Maybe its not 100% romantic  - But they love each other  - I could be happy here

JNR+Neo  - CRIME + Ren  - The pure chaos of Nora and Neo  - The exhausted mom-friend energy from Ren and Jaune - The power polycule that could take on Salem alone and maybe win? - I think it’d be cute, but I personally ship them in the two pairs a bit more. 

Bees Schnees  - We add Blake and Yang’s angst, Yang and Weiss’ trust, and Weiss and Blake’s mutual understanding and growth  - Wow okay  - I have to give it to you, I kinda like it

Neo x Jaune x Ruby  - Based on my response to Lancaster, you might be able to guess my answer here - I think a lot of the ship’s points lie in “What’s better than one short girl dating the tallest guy in the cast? Two short girls dating the tallest guy in the cast!” - Cute though, I think it’d be chaotic and wholesome  - But poor Jaune would be exhausted trying to make sure the house doesn;t burn down every five minutes 

May x Winter  - Look - If I hadn’t made a Neo x Jaune side blog  - I would have made a May x Winter side blog  - The comparisons  - The family legacies  - The pure amount of how attracted I am to both characters  - What happens when two tops date each other?  - What if they were partners in Atlas?  - What if May was Winter’s first crush. And after May came out, Winter was like “Oh thank the gods, I was worried I liked all women and only one guy for some reason. Cool, crisis adverted. So anyway, Marigold, here’s how you do your makeup” - I could go on - Haha don’t tempt me - I’m serious  - Please let them sass each other at some point

GuardDogs  - Marrow = Just doing his best  - Jaune = Just doing his best  - Marrow and Jaune = two himbos just vibing in this world  - If we don’t get Silentknight, I’d be proud to get GuardDogs - Marrow sure has been worried about “Juan” this whole time, huh?

Emercury  - The sass - The pure sass  - Mercury’s unearned confidence paired with Emerald’s quick temper  - Wow, I hope Em can turn him away from murdering people.  - If Em gets 1 friend, I hope its Mercury and not Cinder  - At least Mercury cares about her (But he’s too cool to admit that outright) - Mercury is going to see Em on RWBY’s team and just immediately walk over and join up. No questions asked. “I guess we’re good now. Sorry Tyrian, its been cool, not really”

Happy Huntresses - Yes - Look at that HUG - Ladies, is it gay to go off into the tundra and form a rebellion against the fascist government with three of your hottest gal pals? 

[spacestationdaedalus]

post-canon JM but make them vigilante monster hunters

never seen a single episode but i think this might be the plot of supernatural? idk i bugged the server with this and now other ppl have to see it.

tw for general monster-related horror and descriptions of it, and very very mild injury

ao3 link here!

...

It's late. Again.

She sighs, rubbing at her eyes until starbursts dance in her vision. If her lab manager knew she was in here at god, is it already 3? in the morning, he would probably have a fit. But it's not her fault her work has been so. Uncooperative. Realistically, she could be doing some of this at home, but the lab computer already has everything she needs, and it's so much easier to focus here.

Well. Most of the time.

Her water bottle is still half full, but she decides a walk to the vending machine at the end of the hall would do her some good. She can stretch her legs and get some caffeine at the same time. Best of both worlds.

Right then, a sound cuts through the air. It's a dull roar, crescendoing to a peak that it maintains for a handful of seconds before fading away. As jumpy as she gets this late, she hardly bats an eye as she digs her wallet out of her backpack. It's a common sound to hear in the building, one that you get used to quickly once you spend some time here. The university has a wind tunnel it uses for classes, as well as research. She's seen it before, used it first hand - even down in the basement of the building, the roar of the compressed air tank when the valve is switched practically shakes the foundation. That's how you tell the first years apart from everyone else. They're the ones who jump when they hear it, looking around in confusion, and sometimes fear. But it doesn't take long for it to become background noise.

She's more concerned about the fact that it's so late. Some poor graduate student, down in the basement in the middle of the night running the tunnel instead of sleeping. Or doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, she can relate.

The door shuts with a weighty slam behind her. The silence of the building is even sharper after the echo of the wind, and she fights down the urge to shudder. The hall is long, dark - the university installed motion activated lights in most of the buildings a few years back, and the effect they create as she walks down the hall is surprisingly eerie. The fluorescents flicker on with the faintest clicks and hums as she walks below them, boots clicking against the tile floor. She's a fast walker, always had been - and the incessant sound of her footfalls in the quiet somehow puts her even more on edge.

The pale light from the vending machine reflects against the linoleum in a way that could be inviting. In theory. But it's really more off-putting than anything else, like the sickly glow of a motel sign off of the interstate, flickering a destitute "no vacancy" into the night. The selection is slim, but she punches in the code for an overpriced iced coffee that feels cool and familiar in her hand.

The scream of the wind tunnel comes and goes again, louder, now that she's outside the lab. She can't help the unease creeping down her spine in the wake of its silence. On one hand, it's a comfort to know at least one other person is in the building with her. But even then, the still quiet it leaves behind is always worse, and it sends the hair on the back of her head standing at attention.

It only gets worse as she walks, and she fights the urge to look over her shoulder. Everyone knows the feeling - when you're a kid, and you sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night to get a drink, only to sprint back up to your room as soon as you can because you're so, so sure something is coming for you.

And now that she's thinking about it, she can't not think about it, which is as futile as it is frustrating. She tries to force it down along with the beating of her heart, but the fear simmers beneath the surface like a pot on the stove, two seconds from boiling over. She's already more than halfway back, just a few more seconds and she can slam the lab door shut behind her and feel almost safe.

The roar of the tunnel, again. She can't help the jump, this time, on edge as she is. Strange, they don't usually run it so many times in so few minutes-

A thought comes to her then, without warning, the way they do when you realize you've forgotten something important. She remembers the conversation with striking clarity - Ajay, her roommate, working on a big research project. He needed to test his prototype in the wind tunnel, and he'd lamented to her over dinner the other day that a replacement part they needed downstairs wouldn't arrive until next week. Which sucked, because he has a deadline for a paper submission coming up and needed more data-

Most of this is useless. But she remembers, now, better than anything she ever has, that the wind tunnel hasn't been working all week. The lab is closed, would be until Wednesday, until the new part comes in.

The roaring shriek comes again, pounding against her eardrums in a way it never has before. Oppressive. Almost hungry. It's closer, it's louder.

It's behind her.

She turns. As she chokes on her own heartbeat and sinking dread, she turns.

And something is behind her.

Thin and wrong, inky black and too many limbs. A long torso with a long head attached, crooked on its neck. Gaping white sockets where eyes would, should, be. It has no mouth, and yet she knows with absolute certainty that it was making that sound. A mocking imitation of something so familiar.

And she knows, an anchor sinking into pitch black water, that it's going to kill her.

blood blood i need blood your blood your face you

It's in her head, a voice with no mouth to speak it. She opens her own mouth to scream, but it's useless to her. Nothing comes out, not even air. Maybe she can run, she has to run, has to get away. But she can't bring herself to turn even a sliver from the nightmare in front of her. A deep, primal fear convincing her that the second she can't see that thing is the second it will get her. 

Maybe she can run, still, with her eyes on it. But one of her feet finds the other in her panic, and she falls to the floor. She thinks she feels a pain in her wrist, but it's dull and far away. Hardly a blip on the radar of fear fear oh my god what is that thing-

It's coming for her, all bending joints like limbs of a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, limping, creaking in unnatural steps and lunges. Its eyes never once leave her, glued to her in hungry determination. The roar comes again, but it's twisted and warped like scrap metal and just as jagged around the edges.

And then it stops. Not more than ten feet from her. Frozen. She doesn't breathe, she doesn't think she could if she wanted to.

"That's enough."

It's a man's voice, from behind her. She doesn't have it in her to turn around, to look away. But it doesn't matter. Whoever it is god she hopes it's a who and not a what steps up next to her, in front of her. It might not be accurate to say he's shielding her, but he's between her and it, and she doesn't feel relief, but she feels. Safer, somehow.

She's never seen him before. His hair is long, streaked with grey, half tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He's wearing a long dark coat over long dark pants, tucked into black combat boots. And that's really all she can see from the floor.

As he steps forward, the creature seems to recoil. It hisses, maybe, and then another sound follows. A sad remixing of its own imitating screech from before, not quite a howl but more of a cry. It sounds pained, almost, creaking and desperate. Limbs rear up, but amount to nothing. It's an uncoordinated movement as it falls back on something like haunches.

"I'm watching you, now. There's nowhere you can hide from me."

The man's voice sounds strange to her. There's a cracking, almost static quality to it. She has no idea what the man could possibly be doing, but it looks like it's working.

Until it isn't.

The thing writhes and shrieks again, louder. She can feel it down into her bones, scraping at her marrow, god she wants to throw up. The man in front of her staggers slightly. He mutters something like a curse under his breath, brings a hand to his head. The thing is moving again, shambling towards them. It looks weaker, shakier than before but no less threatening. No less horrifying. Maybe even more so, with the look of a sick, maimed animal as it staggers down the street.

She thinks she might be about to pass out with the sudden chill that overtakes her. But the fading of her vision never comes, and is that. Her breath? She can see it in the air in front of her, condensing like it does on cold winter mornings. With a blink she realizes there's a fog as well, come seemingly from nothing. It's thick and low-hanging, coating the floor of the hall and swirling upwards. It chills her exposed skin, goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

She assumes the thing must be doing this, a defense mechanism or something, but it's slower than before. Subdued. It's still making its way toward them, but it looks lost, like a fawn trying to walk on new legs.

Until another man comes from an adjoining hallway, and bashes its head in with a baseball bat.

It's a solid hit, and the thing goes down almost immediately. The man, the new one, gives another swing, and another, and a few more, for good measure. His bat is slick with something dark and oily. And then the thing is still.

It's quiet for a second, two, then-

"Excellent timing as always, dear." The staticy click of the first man's voice is gone. He sounds out of breath, even though he hardly moved.

The second man laughs, and the cold and the fog seems to fade with it. He's bigger than the first man, taller. He's wearing a bomber jacket over a nondescript t-shirt, fingerless gloves and jeans frayed at the edges. Like he just walked out of an action movie. Or a horror movie. With the thing laying at his feet, the second might be more fitting.

"That was cutting it a little close, Jon. We knew it was with the Stranger, that it could fight you off-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Martin. That's what the bat is for, after all. The Lonely was probably a bit overkill, though."

"It's not overkill if we don't get ourselves maimed, Jon-"

The first man - Jon, apparently - turns to her then. His face is scarred, and dark shadows hang under oddly bright green eyes. But his gaze isn't unkind as he looks down at her.

"Sorry, are you alright? I was hoping we could take care of this when everyone was gone, but-" He laughs darkly. "Well, I was in university once, I should have known at least one student would still be here in the middle of the night, even on the weekend."

The man going by Martin walks over, as Jon extends a hand to help her up. She's lost all hope of her brain trying to process what's happening but step one can at least be get off the floor. But she can't even do that properly. The hand she raises is the same one she fell on, and the twinge from her wrist shoots up her arm almost immediately in a shout for attention.

It must show on her face too, because Jon makes a sound and then Martin's asking her, "Oh, are you hurt?"

"Uh, n-no, I mean…'s just, uh, my wrist. Kinda, fell on it funny." Her voice isn't exactly steady, but it's a far cry from where she was expecting it to be. At least she's orbiting the realm of comprehensible.

Martin crouches next to her. Up close she can see his face in more detail - his eyes are a slate grey, like the fog from before. But they're kind, wrinkled at the edges when he smiles softly at her. "Mind if I take a look?"

She's not exactly in a position to say no, so she gingerly holds her arm out. His hands are rough, calloused, but surprisingly gentle as they probe her wrist. She can't stop the trembling, now, completely unrelated to the pain.

"It's a sprain." Jon says, laced with certainty somewhere above her.

Martin sighs, long-suffering. "Thank you, Jon, I was getting to that."

"Just trying to help." She can't see him, but she can practically hear the cheeky smile tacked to the end of that sentence.

"As much as I hate saying it, he's right." Martin eyes her with something close to humor, like they're in on a joke together. He shrugs a backpack off of his shoulders, rummages through it with one hand. "I think we have some elastic bandages left for something like this…"

"Front pocket." Jon says again. He's moved closer to the thing, the corpse, it must be, now. He's turned away from her, and she can't see his face.

"Thank you, love."

"Of course."

"Um-" She cuts in suddenly, her nerves and panic getting the best of her. Martin looks up from her hand, and Jon turns back to glance at her.

"Sorry, uh, I just- what the fuck was that?"

"I'd tell you not to worry yourself over it, but I don't think that's much of an answer." Jon says, coming back towards them. He crouches down before he continues. "Let's just say this is...our day job."

"It is three in the morning, though."

"That would be the, colloquial use of the term, Martin."

"Just saying." With Martin in front of her she can actually see the cheeky grin, this time.

He uses the bandage to wrap her wrist. It smarts a bit, but the pressure helps. He's clearly adept enough to do this and talk at the same time, because he cuts in next. "We're here to make sure things like that-" he gestures with a nod of his head. "-don't hurt anyone."

Her mouth is full of sawdust. "W- what, like, monsters and shit?" She always did swear a lot when she was stressed.

"More or less."

"If it's any consolation," Jon says. "These things aren't exactly...common. You have to have a special kind of luck to run into something like this."

Yeah, luck.

He sighs, then. He looks tired. "I'm so sorry. If it means anything. This isn't the kind of thing you'll be able to just forget, or-"

"That's why we're here." Martin cuts in. He's finished with her wrist, neatly wrapped and held in place with little wire clips. "To try to stop stuff like this from happening, before it happens. Sorry we were late."

It's not a stretch to imagine what would have happened if they hadn't shown up even later, or not at all. But it's something she will try very, very hard not to think about.

She swallows. "I guess...thank you, then."

"Of course."

The adrenaline and sudden lack thereof leaves her with a jittery exhaustion deep in her core. But she has so many questions, how could she not-

A chill, and a rush of wind and waves hit her before she can get another word out. It's gone as quickly as it had come, so much so she thinks she imagined it. But suddenly, she's alone.

The men going by Jon and Martin and the misshapen corpse of that thing are gone. The hall is just as it had been before, dim lights and freshly polished tile. No sign of anything, or anyone. Except for her.

She knows with crushing certainty that it wasn't a dream. Couldn't be a dream. But she knows that's what people will tell her. So she says nothing. She says nothing, and hopes nothing ever leads her to cross paths with those two ever again.

[skye-huntress]

RWBY V8 Episode 13 “Worthy” Reactions

There is so much going on in this episode and naturally because it’s the penultimate episode, so much conflict still in progress. I may miss or forget things and this will take me a while to get out because I have so much nervous energy it took me half an hour just to start typing. So keep that in mind as you read on

People were saying the plan went so smoothly but as I pointed out in my last reaction, local comms going down was and has thrown the evacuation into disarray, we can see it. So already we have Jaune and Nora splitting off from their team to spread the message, leaving less people to secure the gathering point in Vacuo

Second complication, a sandstorm that cuts off local comms and makes it impossible to know where Vacuo is. And a growing number of terrified refugees just out in the open with less than a handful of fighters to protect them. No way back to relative shelter or to even warn the rest either because true to his nature Ambrosius built exactly what they ask for.

Third complication, I wondered why Cinder seemed to be prepared for their plan. I thought Watts somehow also intercepted comms between Winter and Weiss but it seemed a stretch. Using the last question is going to bite her in the arse later, but I suppose she is in a damned anyway if she can’t give Neo Ruby before Salem respawns

And now we can also confirm she knows of Emerald’s “betrayal” but unless she leaves or gets knocked through the Vacuo portal, we may not get a confrontation this volume. Hard to say what she makes of this, she’s only shown to treat Emerald as someone she can use, much like how Cinder herself was and is being used.

Also Jinn definitely looked remorseful, but just like Ambrosius and the other spirits, she has rules to follow. BTW, I thought of a possible loophole for Jinn’s question limit. She can only be asked three questions every 100 years but I find it curious one question was already used. So my question is would it be possible to ask Jinn the same question twice. Technically it would not be a fourth question, but is that technicality enough to at least allow Jinn to repeat information for new ears.

Watts has access to the Command Centre. Jimmy’s need to control everything has once again backfired and given the enemy everything they could possibly want to do as much damage as they desire

All those people that Cinder blasted off the edge just to get RWBY’s attention, this has always been who she was, which is why there will not be any form of redemption for her. Even if she turns against Salem, it will be for her own selfish reasons and it is why she’ll never truly be able to escape from her fate

Our first RWBY vs Cinder fight (and probably not the last). Not many places worse for them to fight (if at all), with little ground (not a problem for a flying enemy), no cover, civilians in the line of literal fire (and glass). Got knocked off, game over. Speaking of which...

And Neo. Fucking Neo. And of course, protective big sister to the rescue. And she is the first to fall.

I did find it interesting that she seemed to vanish at a certain point on the way down. I interpret as proof, it’s not some endless void, there is something down there. And of course, there has to be a way back. We’re talking the Y of RWBY here, not to mention half the show’s most prominent LGBT+ couple. Contrary to what some individuals claim, RT do not do “Bury Your Gays” or “Queerbaiting”, at least not intentionally. As I said for Penny when she got hacked, Yang is going to be just fine, eventually. She’s not fine right now, obviously, but this isn’t the end for her. RWBY isn’t that type of show.

Ruby seems to be just surviving, no time to think or process what happen unless she wants to end up dead-dead by her sister’s supposed murderer. In this case, it is somewhat fortunate that Ruby’s coping mechanism is through actions, but when she stops it’s going to catch up with her

As for Blake, who got over repressing all her emotions several volumes ago, is not only the one to lose it the most but has gone absolutely feral. Still, she is not so far gone that she isn’t completely unaware that Penny and Weiss are unless in danger. Dilemma, exact vengeance on Neo, or lose another person you love?

While I’m on this point though, this is an excellent example of the destructive nature of the cycle of vengeance. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. In her pursuit of vengeance, Neo has naturally made herself the target of the same type of vengeance. Precisely why killing often not actually a final solution, it also has consequences as well.

I fear for Penny but I’m still confident she’ll survive this somehow. She is something new and unique, a whole new chapter of her life has just started and it would be anti-climatic and a huge waste for the show not to explore that. Besides, if Cinder has learned anything than she knows the relics must take priority over her power lust. All the power of Maidens won’t save her from Salem if she doesn’t return with both of them.

Weiss seems to be the one in most trouble right now, and in most danger of falling next. Still, I’m curious to see if her Nevermore summon will come into play again. A finale seems like the best time for it, and could potentially be a tide turner, perhaps more so than the Queen Lancer summon in Volume 5. She could use more wins.

Back to the Loser Ops. Hoping Marrow is okay. But of course, Harriet is still set on delivering that bomb. Much like her boss, she seems incapable of admitting she is wrong or has lost. I don’t think most people expected Vine to be the next one to concede that Jimmy was not the one to follow, but it makes sense. At that point, blowing up a city for man who has already lost is the furthest thing from logical. It’s just spite at that point, and just a way to make sure everyone loses.

So the bomb is back in play, thanks to Harriet. And while everyone is focused on her, no one will notice Watts pulling the strings from behind the curtain. But what is his target? He wouldn’t waste such a thing on mere civilians. It could simply be to occupy and/or eliminate several powerful combatants, given the villains are currently outnumbered. Still, he’s in his element and the last person we want to underestimate now. If this is truly the end of Atlas, this may probably be his last great act of villainy before he truly falls into irrelevancy and expendability

Lastly, Jimmy F@#$ing Ironwood. Forcefield prisons are such a bad idea. And of course, we can’t forget Chekhov’s gun-gun-gun. We had to see it in action and what it can do to a person. He recovered extraordinarily quickly, but then his body is more machine than man at this point. Also, as I predicted, shattering his aura did not snap him out of it. Atlas the city, the idea, is everything to him. He stopped seeing the people in it a while ago. He’ll kill them all if it will keep the city afloat.

I have complicated feelings about Jacques Schnee. I don’t need to tell anyone how much of a terrible person he is but I can’t ignore the truth that not everything he touched turned to shit. Weiss is perhaps my favourite character in the show, and she would not only not exist if it weren’t for Jacques, she wouldn’t be the person she is that I love now if Jacques was any different as a father. Same goes for Whitley and Winter. It’s a reminder that some good can come from even the shittiest of people acting in the shittiest of ways. He was also right about Ironwood all along, can’t forget that.

That all said, Jacques did not deserve to be murdered like that, whatever his crimes. The man had nothing left, no threat to anyone anymore. He should have lived for the rest of his pathetic existence knowing what he lost.

So now Winter is facing Ironwood again, this time she is alone and he is armed. Neither are in the best shape. I only see this ending with one or both of them dying.

One final note, Yang may be gone but... what if instead of the others also falling... those still standing take a leap of faith to jump after her and whoever else falls

[phantasieandmirare]

RWBY8 Midseason Trailer: Sarah's Breakdown & Analysis

Alright, I have finally been able to sit down and compile all my thoughts and now I want to break down the sequence of events and new frames and what I think it all means, so here we go.

Two things are notable right out of the gate: 1) Eddy Rivas said that the first half of the season was the tame half. Fantastic. I am afraid. 2) Neath Oum says that we have no idea what’s coming. Neath scares the ever-loving hell out of me and I love him but also. Fantastic. I am afraid.

Salem's monologue to Cinder is the first thing we hear in the trailer. I have never believed that Cinder will get a redemption. Based on Midnight and what we saw during her torture sequence, I do now believe that it’s a possibility that she will break and defect, but again, I don't think that that means she'll get a full redemption.

We see rockets being used against Goliaths and both of them being disintegrated. Probably just a filler shot to keep up the full-scale invasion tone.

Ironwood hits his new prosthetic against his desk. As per usual this volume, he's frustrated and angry, but what's the new setback causing this frustration? Perhaps a defection from his elite agents, his second-in-command, or the news that Penny has broken free, or been taken?

The Ace-Ops and Winter have the bomb and are preparing to run at the Monstra. I still don't think that they'll be the ones taking it in. I have a couple theories about who'll do that but I don't think they're taking it. They may get it up there but I doubt that they'll be taking it inside.

Winter comforts Marrow. This looks like it might be right before they take the bomb, or Winter and Marrow having a 'yeah-our-job-sucks-right-now-do-what-you-think-is-best' moment. This may or may not be the moment where Marrow defects and runs.

Ironwood turns in surprise and sees someone or something, right before he's about to hit a button on his console. I personally think that this is the moment where Team Regicide aka Qrow and Robyn arrive in his office. I also think that he might have been about to activate the bomb here, but it could be anything, including controlling Penny if Watts gave him control.

Cinder is clearing rubble. Someone said this looks like Grimm landscape but there are wires and beams and girders, so I think she's inside. This might be her Watts jailbreak or something else, but I'm not sure yet. She's not moving with any sort of urgency, not using both hands to clear rubble like she would be if she needed to be moving quickly or was trying to dig someone out, so either she's in shock and doing it one at a time, or she's got time to kill here. I'm not sure.

Ruby gets tossed through a wall. To me, it looks like she's being tossed from the inside to the outside. I would not be surprised if Team RNBW + May split up with one half going to fix the generator and the others staying in the house, and I don't think Ruby will want to leave Penny. And Penny is the only threat inside the house. This is probably during the hacked!Penny fight if there is one, though it could be anything else. Sidenote, I like using 'Team RNBW' for that group because it can be pronounced 'Rainbow'.

Penny's eyes are red and hacked. I still believe that she has mental autonomy but her body is against her. I've also seen some people say that either Watts is controlling her, which I doubt because if this was the case then Watts could order her to fly to Salem now and that's like five birds with one stone, or Ironwood is controlling her, which would line up with him pressing buttons in his office and being frustrated when something goes wrong. There's a high chance that we're going to have a hacked!Penny fight and I don't think they'd pass up that opportunity. 

The now infamous acid-spitting Grimm arrives. It looks like it's chest has been carved out and the acid tube has been surgically added. I've seen two theories for this: that it's an Atlas experiment, or it's a Dr. Merlot (Grimm Eclipse) experiment. Since we’ve yet to see Dr. Merlot in series and the ending of Grimm Eclipse indicates he’s still active, this could be a fun way to throw him into the mix; I personally think they’ll hold onto him until Vacuo if anything, but it could be now too. This is also taking place at the Schnee estate. The green goop also kind of looks like Penny's 'blood' which makes me wonder if this thing attacked her, or if this gives credence to the theory that it's an Atlas experiment, just like Penny was.

Something busts through the cell wall and fire engulfs Qrow and Watts. Again, I have seen several theories on this: a) This is Cinder busting in to get Watts, or b) This is Raven busting in to get Qrow, which I kind of doubt because she should just be able to teleport into the same cell with him but I still want her to come get him. There’s also a chance that it’s none of the above and someone else is blowing their way in or some kind of accident happens to cause a breach (such as a crash). 

The electricity at Schnee mansion gets turned back on. This is expected. Not too big a deal.

Hazel enters a room. I’m betting that he’s walking in to the room where the Lamp is being kept. 

The Hound turns it’s head. It’s on the Schnee estate. This is also expected, and a slightly bigger deal.

Salem grabs Oscar’s face with her nails positioned right over his eyes. She’s getting frustrated. Either she’s talking to Oz and he’s giving her sass, or Oscar is spitting truth and she doesn’t like it, or something else. The only thing I want to point out about this shot is that Oscar does not seem to react when she grabs him. This may be because he’s being held in place by the imp arm on the back of his head, or she’s holding him too tight that he can’t react in a physical way, or we just can’t see it because this shot is a second long and Oscar is turned away from us, or Oscar is channeling his inner badass and not showing Salem that he’s scared, but for now, the fact that Oscar doesn’t seem to react...worries me a little. 

Ruby looks confused, and horrified. She’s looking at something extremely shocking, something she wasn’t expecting to see. She might be in shock. From this angle, it looks like she’s still inside the house, so for right now I think that this is her reaction to Penny waking up with red eyes and turning on them. But, I’ve also seen a theory that this is Ruby’s reaction to seeing someone she thought was long dead appearing in the form of the Hound. 

Last but not least, I want to talk about what Ironwood says in this trailer. He says: “I have always promised to defend this kingdom from those who would see it destroyed, no matter the cost.” For some context: I believe that Ironwood is going to face Salem alone. In the intro, he’s alone on a chessboard while all of his pieces fall around him. I also think that one of two people will be taking the bomb into the Monstra: Hazel, as I outlined in a previous prediction here, or Ironwood himself. And this speech could be him being his usual “I’ll do anything to stop Salem” self, but this...well. Let’s go back to Ironwood’s theme song, “Hero”: “I would die / Without regret, I’d offer up my life / With zero reservations / I would fly / Into the sun / If that would keep our dream alive...There’s no sacrifice / That I won’t make / I’ll risk it all / To keep you safe / Trust me to be strong / I’ll be your hero / Just hold on”. Ironwood has a massive hero complex. And he is yet to offer up the ultimate sacrifice, himself. And this...this sounds like a goodbye. This sounds like he’s about to walk away. This sounds like he’s about to sacrifice himself. And while I believe that the Hazel sacrifice theory is a huge possibility, especially since Hazel is the only candidate currently onsite, this makes me really start to wonder if Ironwood is making it out of this volume alive.

Alright, back to your regularly-scheduled scrolling, I’ll just be here beating my head against the wall for two more weeks.

[calliecat93]

Well didn’t get this done before Chapter Five came out, but I’m still MUCH more caught up than I had been. Good thing they’re going on a six week break here soon since that’ll not only let me catch my barrings... but let my soul have a break, GOOD GOD THESE PAST TWO CHAPTERS HIT HARD!As far this specific chapter goes... boy I did not expect me to shock me as much as it did. So w\let’s not waste anymore time and jump right into it.

Overview

Robyn is recalling a story about Joanna in prison, but neither Jaques or Qrow are all that into. But she does manage to get Qrow to finally smile, as well as notice him still holding Clover’s badge. She apologizes for what happened, which lets Qrow vent about the entire fiasco and how for the first time in so long, it felt like he had made a connection without having to fear his Semblance ruining it. Robyn... actually understands, herself having been ostracized due to her lie detecting Semblance making people fear her revealing their secrets. Harriet and Marrow enter, throwing Watts ack into his cell. Harriet doesn’t believe Qrow declaring his innocence, even when Robyn offers to use her Semblance. Robyn also calls Harriet out on essentially blaming others and not caring about the truth since it’s easier for her to not accept her own blame. Before Harriet can act, Marrow stops her and the speedster storms off/

Back in the tundra, JYR are still giving chase to The Hound, Jaune even launching Ren at it. It doesn’t work and The Hound even calls for backup, summoning more Grimm. It leads to a giant chase sequence, including a new song that IDT has a title yet, but it is dark as Hell. The chase ends with two of the bikes being destroyed, Yang and Jaune almost falling over a cliff until Ren uses his grappling features to save them, and the three are forced to watch as The Hound escapes with Oscar in it’s clutches. Back up in Atlas, RWBNM have gone to, surprisingly, the Schnee Manor to lay low and tend to Nora. Whitley is less than pleased, especially with what Weiss did not even 24 hours ago in-show, but Weiss makes it clear that they’re not leaving and she sends him to his room. As Weiss and May tend to Nora, Blake sees Ruby worried about the others. She suggests that Ruby can still call Yang... but there’s one problem, Ruby already did.

JYR are out of signal range, forcing them to make their way back to Mantle on-foot. During the trek however, Ren’s closed up attitude is flaring up, which eventually causes Yang to get on his case. Ren i9s frustrated due to not just losing Oscar, but everything that has happened. Losing the Relics, Ironwood’s betrayal, the current Grimm attack with Salem just outside the doorstep. Even with yang pointing out their accomplishments and admitting that they have made mistakes but still pulled through, Ren’s anger flares as he points out that they are WAY in over their heads. Jaune tries to calm them both down, but Ren continues to point to how Ruby is leading them despite still being a kid, he himself is an orphan form the middle of nowhere, and the biggest shock is him getting after Jaune for forging his way into Beacon. This shocks everyone, even Ren himself, but Jaune simply says that he’s getting out of the cold and walks on. Yang asks if Ren just wats to push everyone away before following, leaving Ren shocked and upset.

Meanwhile... oh boy, this scene. Oscar wakes up and standing right across from him is Salem. She addresses Ozma and how long it’s been since she’s seen him and... yeah it’s pretty unsettling. Oscar tries to act like Oz, but Salem sees right through it and tries to get Oscar to give her answers. He genuinely doesn’t know where the Beacon Relic is, so Salem tries to get the password to the Lamp out. When he tries to use the ‘out of questions’ ploy... Salem uses her magic to... magically torture him... yeah it’s... rough. Oscar still doesn’t talk, so Salem brings out Hazel... you know, the guy who hayes Oz probably more than anyone and has sworn to kill him? Yeah...

Cinder meets with Salem, taken back by The Hound which Salem calls an experiment. Cinder again tries to convince her to let her go after Penny, but Salem again orders her to stay put. Cinder agrees... well, verbally anyways. But she knows that the heroes are likely going to still try and launch Amity, so sh decides to go for the Maiden Power anyways. Neo is less than thrilled with this plan, but Cinder has another person willing to help her: Emerald.

Back in the tundra, JYR have found shelter for the night and Jaune admits that Ren is correct about how he cheated his way into Beacon. But he’s since realized that he was above his mistake and tries to convince Ren to not push them out, knowing fully well how all that it does is hurt you more. If it did any good, Ren doesn’t show it as he goes to sit outside. Yang has found a part to fix the bike and also assures Jaune that she knows that he worked hard to get to where he is now. She starts working on the part before asking Jaune if ‘she’ thinks any less of her. Jaune, assuming that she means Ruby, assures her that they’re sisters and will be fine... but Yang was talking about a certain cat girl. Our episode ends here... but not before showing us the ice nearby beginning to crack... thanks a lot CRWBY!

Review

Like I said in the intro, I didn’t expect this chapter to shock me like it did. Did I expect intensity? Of course, especially after the last chapter? Did I expect what we got? Nope, but it was perfect!

Let’s talk about Ren first. Ever since last volume, it’s been clear that he’s been unraveling. He wasn’t engaging in Nora’s antics anymore, was more closed up than usual, seemed in agreement with Ironwood at one point, and of course his mini-breakdown in the finale Not even Nora and him kissing helped, heck considering what happened after it only seemed to make him worse. Even now he’s at serious odds with Nora for the first time since childhood, something that is clearly bothering him despite him keeping it to the chest. He’s trying to keep his focus on his duty, but with everything going more and more wrong, the facade is not only shattering, but the cracks are causing him to push those close to him away.

His argument with Yang was a tense moment. I like it though. Not only for more unique character dynamics, but out of every character Yang will lay it out as it is. If Ren’s going to have an attitude problem, then she will call it out and not give a damn about the reason why. Since Nora can’t get though to him, the harsher approach is kind of the only thing left. Ren’s breakdown was hard to watch... and he is right to an extent. They are in over their heads. Their decision, even if the right one morally, is creating more problems and endanger more lives. Ruby is still a kid and she’s placed far too much on herself. I think he is underestimating himself and the others about not being ready, but his concerns are completely understandable and he has some good, if harsh, points.

But then he brings up Jaune cheating his way into beacon. Yeah, been a while since that came up, huh? I actually gasped when that came up. While Ren clearly didn’t mean for that to come out, the fact that he did when pointing out that they’re way over their heads does display at least some doubts he has about his leader. JNR have grown close over the past few volumes, Ren and Nora essentially considering Jaune family by the time of Volume 6. So hearing this was hard, especially since all that Jaune was doing was trying to calm him and Yang down.

I do, however, like how Jaune reacted. Back in the early volumes, he likely would have taken it as a blow to his confidence and gotten huffy about it. Now? While the blow clearly stung, he keeps himself in check and keeps focus on finding shelter. Then once there, he outright admits that Ren’s right and tries to comfort him. He tries to advise him on opening up and how closing yourself off doesn’t help. Considering that he tried this both in V1 when we found out how he cheated and after Pyrrha died and only getting better when he allowed others to help, he absolutely knows how Ren feels. But the fat that he handled this so maturely and tried to help his friend instead of get angsty about it shows how much he’s grown. It’s really nice to see.

Now let’s talk about Weiss and Whitley. So this got some... mixed reception. Some were upset about Weiss pointing her weapon and Whitley and her general harsh behavior towards him this chapter. Now I do understand the first part since I was similarly annoyed at Yang for threatening Qrow in Volume Six when all that he was trying to do was be reasonable about the Lamp. It was likely too harsh, but in farness Weis sis not only trying to help save the kingdom, but one of her teammates is in critical condition and she has no time for Whitley to be angry at her. The Manor is the safest place at the moment, and she needs to get Nora care now. Not saying it’s a justification, but it isn’t her being mean for the sake of it either.

But even so... guys I’m sorry, but do you seriously expect Weiss to suddenly forgive and coddle Whitley this soon? After years of him belittling her and rubbing his success in her face while she was punished, not to mention seeming more concerned about the family reputation than the current conflict? I’m sorry , but it’s not that simple. Yes, Whitley is also a victim who was manipulated and groomed by his father and unlike Weiss, he was never able to get a proper support system or have any family to help like how Weiss had Winter. I do feel bad for him, and I do think that Weiss will take her mother’s words form the last volume and will help Whitley later in the volume. But they’ve both hurt each other. Whitley by treating Weiss badly, and Weiss not giving him support like she was given. They’re both victims AND hurt each other. Some try to paint it as one is problematic and the other is an innocent child, and that’s simply untrue. They’re only going to realize that if and when they talk out their problems with each other out, it’s just a matter of when it’ll be. It takes time to mend these kinds of things, sadly.

Next is the villains scene... ho boy. So I’m gonna wait on Cinder for the next chapter, but her ignoring Salem in favor of power isn’t a shock at all. No, let’s discuss Oscar. Just... this poor, poor kid. He’s trying to be brave, but seeing him get tortured and especially the screaming?! Aaron Dismuke, why do this to me you jerk?! I do admire him for trying it imitate Oz and keep his composure, but it was just so... brutal to watch. Salem doing it so calmly and being perfectly willing to wait for the answers since she can just make Oscar suffer is... well, evil. And don’t think I missed her with the shadow versions of her daughters. Some say that humanizes her, but since she remorsefully tortured a child and sicked an emotionally unstable brute to physically harm him without a care in the world... no. It didn’t excuse Ironwood, and it sure as Hell isn’t excusing Salem. Tis just makes her all the more terrifying.

Okay... last thing is that scene at the end. The Bumblebee implication scene. So... I won’t lie it did annoy me at first. Before anyone says anything, it was NOT because of hating the ship or anything stupid like that. I’m not a huge Bumblebee fan, but anyone who keeps saying there’s nothing there at this point is living in denial. It’s happening people and since at least Volume 6, I think they’ve been doing it pretty well. My issue is mainly just because... we’ve had plenty of Bumblebee content. Volume 7 had them together in pretty much every scene, and I just don’t like having a pair of characters limited like that. I had the same issue with Renora, especially in Volumes 1-3, and with shipping in general. The main reason though is that I want there to be some more focus on Ruby and Yang because I feel like it’s been a long time and that there is a genuine conflict between them that can bring some interesting things for both. I’m not saying they need to be at each other’s throats, but siblings DO argue and no, it doesn’t always get easily resolved and I am speaking form experience here. To be fair it could happen later and Ruby herself hasn’t been pondering on it that much either. Heck Blake seemed more concerned about it than either of them have. But I would like to see more than just the one pair that I’ve already seen focused on plenty of times because it’s limiting. That’s just a personal thing though and I’ve always enjoyed sibling stuff more than romance, so yeah just a me thing.

That being said, those saying that Yang doesn’t care about Ruby need to calm down. No, that is NO the case. Did we forget Yang trying to console a broke Ruby despite her own grief just last volume? Mere hours ago in-show at that? Despite what I said above and while she’s clearly concerned after Ruby’s recent choices, Yang still loves and ultimately trusts her sister. She never said that she didn’t think that Ruby would fail or was wasting her time, she just felt like Mantle needed them more and the consequences to trying were too much. Heck this is a spoiler, but considering her reaction in the next chapter, it only reinforces that belief. At least with Blake, this is the first time they’ve willingly split apart and Yang clearly still has some abandonment issues and concerns. Plus... yeah, it’s natural when you have feelings for someone to worry if they made a bad choice that may make them doubt them. Blake won’t, but it’s understandable. Heck, Blake was clearly concerned about Yang when trying to get Ruby to call. I think she was trying to comfort Ruby as well with the suggestion, but it was still pretty evident... also Ruby and Blake interaction, yay! Still yeah guys, let’s just... chill a little bit and see what more comes of anything.

Okay, got that out of my system, and I apologize if it came across wrong. Whatever annoyance I had I’m over anyways, especially after the recent chapter. Anyways, the chapter had so much good. Plus we not only had a badass chase sequence, but a new song! Again, IDK the title, but it was another banger for sure. The opening scene with row and Robyn bonding and Robyn calling out Harriet was great. Marrow’s subtle expressions showing how not okay he is, and I’m seriously hoping that he may be the one to free the others. It would be a really good move for his character in him deciding that being lawful doesn’t equal the right thing, and making it right especially considering his interaction with Robyn last volume. The animation was good with the backgrounds looking fantastic, the pacing has been on fire, and of course that ominous ending. God they’re trying to keep us on edge, and I love it!

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Lie Ren Favorite Scene: Ren losing it in the tundra Least Favorite Scene: Probably the wrong term, but seeing Oscar be tortured while well done was hard. Favorite Voice Actor: Neath Oum (Ren Favorite Animation: JYR chasing The Hound Rating: 9.9/10

Final Thoughts

This was fantastic, especially in the character department. I haven’t been this shocked in a good while. It hurt no doubt, but the writing and voice performances were so well done. Seriously, this is probably Neath’s best performance to date. Add in the great animation, the tone being on point, and the set-ups with the Schnee Manor and cracking ice and the fact that this is only Chapter Four is crazy. But it’s only going to get crazier people... oh so, so much crazier. Only one review to go until I’m back to being caught up... my poor heart XD

[its-a-branwen-thing]

On Qrow: Part II

Back at it again with the white vans an over-analysis of one of my faves! In my last post on Qrow, I focused a lot on how legacies play into his character. How he’s slowly becoming a character who can leave a legacy, but that the journey there is still ongoing. And it always is.

Disclosure, as always, this is all pure speculation, enhanced by my personal opinions, and for fun! :)

Legacies play into all of these characters. RWBY is about stories. Especially in regards to our heroes: specifically Ruby, Yang, Oscar, Juane, and Ren. All of them have character legacies that inform who they are today. Summer, Raven, Ozma, Pyrrha, Li Ren. These are all characters that we know had/have their own motivations, destiny, and ideals--and those echo through the narrative in such grand ways.

Mementos are a big part of these characters’ stories. While not all of these are explicitly physical items that serve as reminders, there are stories behind these shots and the objects or focus of them. Ren killing the Nuckelavee with his father’s dagger, Ruby’s mother and their shared silver eyes.

That’s why taking a look at a particular spot in V4 sparked a new idea:

Qrow is also a part of legacies. But this is one he was upholding. In V6 we saw his realization that his own followed legacy was in jeopardy--the one thing he’d staked his life on--and that continues to inform his faith in his nieces and the younger generation going forward. Because it isn’t Oz’s path he’s following, but theirs. Even if it is is hard letting them go it alone.

Qrow chooses his path at the end of V6, and it’s to help uplift this new generation, so that they can create their own stories in honor of or in spite of the ones that were left for them. It’s subtle, but it illustrates that Qrow’s growth has been in doing the things he believes is right, which is why he cautions James on so many of his decisions, why he seems to hang back, to lash out less, why he seems...well, softer. He’s not drunk, for one. And two he’s not as worried for his proteges. They’re taking fine enough care of themselves. Which is why the emphasis on his connection to Clover is so fundamentally important. Because if I look at it from a storytelling standpoint, we see these two characters express very similar ideals with completely different views of how to follow them. But it’s the story Clover has, the one where he’s a beloved leader and soldier, that impacts Qrow’s future the most.

It’s also between them that we witness one of the most brutal death scenes in RWBY.

My knee-jerk reaction to this scene was that it was the beginning of the Scarecrow “losing his mind”, so to speak, because it has been the pattern of the Oz generals to fall by the thing they were seeking in their allusions. But every time I followed this thought I couldn’t realize why it felt so wrong to me. I thought for a bit that Qrow might turn, the he might really and truly go crazy, but I honestly can’t see it. Why? Because if I’m reading Clover’s character right, we see that the fundamental differences between him and Qtow are what the story’s been pointing to all along: one is part of a legacy he never questioned, while the other has no tethers to his old legacies. Qrow’s placing his faith, quite certainly, on the future. (Also, if you wanted to make a point about the cruelty of reality, you could do it elsewhere. RWBY hasn’t really been that kind of show). And what really hit me as an important factor in this is the final shot of Qrow:

He isn’t angry. He isn’t gunning immediately for Ironwood. He looks heartbroken. He looks as he has all season--quiet, but in control.

He’s also holding onto...that’s right, a memento.

Yeah, back to talking about mementos, I am.

In seeing what was said about their relationship by the writers (communication not being 1:1 with writing/animating--also, again, not looking to discuss the implications of that at the moment, I understand and sympathize), I think I’m beginning to see some of Clover’s decisions, as they’re written, in a completely new light.

He’s cocky. He’s proud. But he’s a good guy. He encourages Qrow. He obviously likes him as a person. And this whole season we’re rooting for them to be good partners why’d you sneak in all that sexual tension though, yo, in whatever way that is. But then it’s made clear that Clover and Qrow both prioritize entirely different things until E12 when Qrow nods to Tyrian and...you know what I won’t even....no, I’m not even gonna poke that. The same different things that ultimately split team RWBY and the Ace Ops up. It’s even in their fights. If Qrow is the “Clover” to RWBY, Clover is the “Qrow” to the Ace Ops. Both the oldest and wisest of the de facto teams. Those fights are set up like that for a reason. Even them sharing shifting focus in E12 is significant. And RWBY wins because the Ace Ops don’t “care” about each other as they do, that’s the whole point that I can see. And so Clover shares his teams’ fate...but, like, way worse.

Clover knows when his orders seem harsh but he doesn’t question them. He’s never been shown to do so. He hesitates, sure, but so does Marrow. And unlike Marrow, Clover isn’t a new addition. He’s older. He’s their leader. It’s his charge they’ll follow. He’s not a character easily changed. We knew who he was the moment he swung in to arrest our heroes.

(Side note: I used to think this was a conspiratorial look that they were planning something. But I think now what I see is Clover noticing and then ultimately ignoring Qrow’s concern. His look hardens back to Ironwood with what I can now see as resolve. It’s why Qrow looks down. It’s almost like he’s hurt.)

So when we encounter this duo in the tundra, after their plane crash, and we see Clover’s character attempt to negotiate with Qrow, we see Qrow’s resolve harden. He isn’t going to follow Ironwood’s orders. He finds them wrong. But Clover is Ironwood’s right hand, he can’t listen to any personal feelings he may have, as Qrow and Robyn do. He even parallels Marrow in his conversations with Robyn, in that they both advise her to follow the law on two separate instances, and she makes it abundantly obvious that she thinks the law is rubbish. But Clover is the law. He’s supposed to uphold that trust. Because he’s entirely loyal. He’s a good person upholding a man he trusts. We don’t know his history, but I assume as the elite of the elite he earned his position. He spent years earning Ironwood’s trust (as Winter says--”You can’t buy loyalty you have to earn it”). And he isn’t a disingenuous character with sneaky ulterior motives. He’s how he’s presented. Point blank, heart presumably on his sleeve. I thought he’d turncoat to join our heroes, but now I see why he didn’t. (Then again, not having all the information is...testy)

Which is why this hits so damn hard.

“Sometimes the right decision is the hardest to make. I trust James with my life! I wanted to trust you.”

I wish I could emphasize that last line more. Clover is making an extraordinarily hard choice. He’s choosing loyalty to Ironwood over his partnership and relationship with Qrow. Because he trusts Ironwood more. This isn’t a character failing, it’s just tragic.

And with that last line I think he feels that Qrow betrayed Ironwood as well and, by effect, him. Because if Qrow had just listened to Ironwood’s plan and given himself up, none of this would have happened. But now that Qrow’s gone rouge, so to speak, he has to see him as an enemy. He has to use tactics to lure him to cooperate. Clover wanted to trust Qrow too. And at the end, like a lot of other trusting partnerships this volume, it ended in a loss of that trust. Also Qrow breaking Clover’s aura after the Ace Op has Tyrian on the ropes is SO. GODDAMN. PAINFUL. And when Qrow sees that Clover’s willing to follow these orders, he probably thinks he’ll follow any, and likely why he sees this as a betrayal. Because he’s used to that which i will discuss next time thank you.

What makes this scene so poignant, what makes me realize Qrow’s next arc is going to tie into what Clover left for him, is because Qrow likely understands exactly what Clover was going through. Once upon a time he defended Oz. He ran Oz’s missions. He put those priorities first. He bet his life on this fight. And in the end he didn’t even know the truth of what he was fighting for. Oz lied to him (Yes, I understand why). Meanwhile this whole season has been built on the prospect of lies. Qrow knows the cost of blind trust. He’s trying to tell Clover to listen to his conscience, not silence it. He’s trying to tell him to do the right thing.

And at the end, Clover seems to do just that by telling him, infuriatingly, “good luck.” Not just in the broader sense, although what an absolute madlad. But in the sense that he understands why Qrow chose that path. Why Qrow made that decision to refuse arrest although I’d be hella pissed about him teaming up with Tyrian! tho Why you done did me like that, bruh?!.

Clover’s telling him, really, to do what Qrow thinks is right. It’s the final note of evidence for my theory. Clover’s spent this season prepping Qrow to have faith in himself, and now it’s Qrow’s turn to realize that potential. It’s a blessing, really, that he gives him. To finish what he started.

And Qrow clearly keeps Clover’s charm. Because he’s carrying on Clover’s legacy too, and the mistakes that may have been made along the way. He has to remedy them. And this isn’t the only instance of a “baton pass” between these two. If Qrow is in search of a new legacy (which, truth be told, might involve bringing Ironwood down), then he needs a new team to do it with. And, as it’s been stated countless times by this show, he isn’t the waste of space he say he is and it is a damn shame he doesn’t have a new team yet.

Which brings me to my final desperate reach point.

“What would you guys do without me?”

[theseerasures]

YOu have a lot of interesting thoughts abt Winter what dyou think will happen with her this season?? Iknow you already said she won't die but. other stuff?? What do you think of the idea that she defects to salem

y’know, anon: i was actually gonna write something to this tune unprompted before the hiatus ended? i didn’t, because when it’s inevitably revealed that i was wrong about Everything and the village children throw their eggs and laugh i didn’t want to give them any more receipts, but now that someone has asked i might as well

quick disclaimer before i start! these are subjective speculations about a character who has thus far been--particularly in 8.1--sparsely and ambivalently characterized, on purpose. i am spinning from the same subtext as anyone else, and if i am reading it differently, then all that means that i am reading it differently. Mr. Teeth is not sending me secret data. i am not the Steve Kornacki of RWBY Defections, as hilarious as it is to imagine someone like that existing.

okay? okay. below are some ideas and theories about where Winter could be going this season

The Defection (no not that one yet)

yeah, i’m still an “AceOps defect as a team” truther. this one actually has the least to do with Winter, and most to do with story economy. and the story of the AceOps is this: under Clover they were “the perfect team”--efficient, powerful, professional, and the perfect emblem of Atlesian values. law and order above all else. the mission matters more than the team. don’t get attached.

Clover’s absence from the team begins in late season 7, which means all that shiny varnish is stripped from Atlas at the same time it’s stripped from the AceOps. it turns out that the law isn’t always right, it turns out it’s super easy to turn “the needs of the many” into “the needs of the few who have many,” and it turns out once you go even a single inch past their facade the “best Huntsmen in Atlas” are conflicted, directionless, and squabble like children. they have a better showing against Penny this season, but their continued dynamic shows that fault lines--particularly between Marrow and Harriet--are reaching crisis. The AceOps model is unsustainable, in the same way that all of Atlas is ultimately unsustainable.

then Ironwood puts Winter in charge, and at first i did think: well, this is probably just to accelerate the inevitable fallout. they are, by their own testimony, emotional strangers to each other, and now some of them disagree on ideological grounds to the point where they can barely stand to be in the same room; slapping an abrasive volatile live wire on top of all that is pouring gasoline on Rome while Rome burns.

but the revelation of Renvision was that they’ve been lying--about HAVING feelings, but also about their feelings with and about each other. moreover: Winter’s own emotions mirror theirs. they’re speaking, in whatever horrifically repressed way, a similar language.

i’m not going to discount the possibility that this kind of ice-water-in-the-face moment might not be enough for some of them; one thing i’ve always respected about RWBY is its unwillingness to flinch away from the idea that sometimes it IS too late for people. but when it comes down to the AceOps, i think the operating question isn’t “will they pick JOYR over setting off the bomb,” because they’re not ready to make that kind of decision together as a team yet. no, the operating question is: if it comes down to one of them, or setting off the bomb, what will they choose?

Clover would set off the bomb, without hesitation or remorse. the mission and protocol HAVE to come first, and in this case there’s a compelling argument that it’s the right call. the team under Clover would have followed suit. the team without Clover would have likely done the same.

the team under Winter...

well, the thing about Winter is that she’s NOT Clover. not a perfect soldier, but--let’s stick with “not a perfect soldier.” she cannot lead in the same way Clover did, with that infuriating mixture of self-assurance and personal charisma, but i don’t think she thinks of herself as any less in command, which means that for the time being, the AceOps are her team. i can’t be certain what Winter would choose in this situation--whether her personal feelings can win out against years of consequentialist thinking--but i do feel fairly confident in saying that she’d be more willing to sacrifice HERSELF in order to choose both.

and in this crucial moment where the AceOps are forced to re-evaluate how they feel about each other, and the team, that might count for something.

so tl;dr #1: the AceOps find a team identity separate from the Atlesian structure. whether they defect to the RIGHT people, or survive defection, and whether Winter counts narratively as one of the AceOps by that point, i’m less sure about, but a cursory stab in the dark would be: yes, not all of them, and no.

The Return

how much do the writers care about the Winter-Ironwood dynamic? probably less than i do, but i also care more than any human should be permitted to under the law, especially since people have moved onto speculating about all the hot NEW abusers she could have in her life. whatever--it is something that needs closure, and i think the writers know that. my preference is still that they confront each other in person, at Atlas Academy (Qrow having fucked off via either healthy decision making or force). if this does happen, i don’t think there’s any chance that both of them will make it out alive; Winter would ONLY confront Ironwood if she’s forced to--either by him or other forces--and both of them are too rigid with themselves and with each other to offer any kind of give, or forgiveness.

that’s what i’d prefer, but it no longer seems the most likely option; Winter clearly has no plans to make it back, and the queue for “people who want to slug it out with DILF Jimmy” just keeps getting longer. it’s possible that they’ll end on the same personal-impersonal teeter-totter which they’ve always resided, where they’re just voices in each other’s earpieces, and she’s giving him a report, and he is issuing her orders.

there’s a way to make that meaningful, though: Winter HAS just disobeyed an explicit order--the first she’s done when she fully had the capacity to carry it out. her own treasons are piling up, and it’s a secret that he should know, for plot and character reasons. the obvious choice among the AceOps to tattle is Harriet, but i also think there’s a nonzero chance that, if asked, Winter herself will tell him. for all her flaws, i do think Winter is capable of owning up to her decisions (it’d make a nice parallel with Yang telling Ironwood about what she and Blake did during Gravity, but that’s neither here nor there), but even more importantly...i think she’d tell him because she wants to be reassured. that she did the right thing, but also that they’re still on the same page, and that he’s still the same person he always was, with her.

he won’t reassure her, of course. especially after he finds out that she disobeyed him for Ozpin. she’ll have no one left.

tl;dr #2: Winter and Ironwood have to reach some kind of End by the finale. whether it’s with a bang or a whimper i’m again less certain of, but if it DOES end with a bang one of them will die, and it’s going to be Ironwood.

Winter Alone

i, like many others, assumed going into the season that Winter’s core dilemma would be something like “her family or her family,” meaning: her sisters or her (adoptive) father. but i think as far as the show’s concerned that conflict was resolved when she let them go in The Enemy of Trust, and it’s not worth re-litigating. since the season started she’s just missed Weiss and/or Penny TWICE by narrative contrivance--during the Amity heist, and the abortive recovery mission--and she’s been sent away from Ironwood. it’s increasingly looking to me like Winter and Weiss will not talk to each other at ALL this season (do they have Scroll reception in the whale? i guess they must if Watts talked to Tyrian), or at most will only catch a tantalizing glimpse of each other before being whisked away again. all of this points to the issue not being “whose side will Winter choose,” but “what kind of person IS Winter, when she doesn’t have anyone else’s ideology to fall back upon?”

which is very exciting to me! the What You Are in the Dark trope is an obvious staple, but i’m especially a sucker for it when it happens to characters like Winter, who lucked out in the sense that their more selfish motivations (protecting herself from Dad) have never quite conflicted with doing Good (protecting other people). the cognitive dissonance for that with Winter has already been played up to the max, so for it to come to a crisis for her, at a point when EVERYONE WHOSE OPINION SHE CARES ABOUT HAS ALREADY FUCKED OFF, is just great drama. it’s made all the better by the fact that RWBY specifically has a lot of villains whose backstories involve them being put in a similar situation, and choosing wrong: Adam chose spite. Raven chose cowardice. getting to see someone make that choice in the story proper, then, adds to and complicates what RWBY has to say the conditions of possibility for heroism and villainy.

furthermore, and this might be where my biases become delusions: that Winter is being maneuvered to make these decisions for herself, BY herself, points to the possibility that she might be graduating from a mostly region-locked character (Ilia, the Belladonnas, Beacon staff and students) to full-on supporting cast (TRQ, Maria, the villains). if Weiss and/or Penny reach out to Winter in a climactic confrontation this season, then the story isn’t NOT about Winter, but it would place more emphasis on Weiss and/or Penny, as main cast members, and their ability to save a person they love. but if their relationships are given more space and time for breathe (or fester!)--if Winter gets to change away from Weiss in the way that Weiss changed and grew away from Winter in Mistral, for example--then it points to a greater parity in terms of their mutual importance in the story.

tl;dr #3: Schneester Bowl might have to wait at least another season, because Winter’s too busy trying out independent thinking. now, whether Winter will make the RIGHT choice, or the story will LET her make that call after she’s decided...

2Defect2Salem

i actually touched on this before, so tl;dr #4.1: i do not find the ways that people talk about HOW Salem gets Winter to defect to be very convincing. the idea that Salem could easily manipulate Winter because they have similar backstories makes me...tilt my head, but i think that’s more due to my personal belief that people who are similar in those ways actually tend to be each other’s blind spots (i also think this about Blake and Winter, FWIW). more to the point: my personal reading of Winter locates a streak buried deep within that is unyieldingly CATEGORICAL. despite being embedded within Atlesian rationality, despite her mentor being James Ironwood, there is something in Winter that instinctively judges an immediate instance to be right or wrong, and she’s never been able to suppress that all the way.

and with that in mind, i genuinely don’t think Winter is enough of a long-term, big picture thinker to give herself over to despair for Atlas as a whole. oh, we see her parrot “for the good of all, not just a few” just fine, but if she was already having trouble internalizing that when it was coming from IRONWOOD, a man she loves and trusts, then why would Salem--a person she is predisposed to distrust--be better at convincing her that the ends justify the means? why would she believe that submission is preferable to extinction from someone that EVERYONE SHE KNOWS considers an enemy? it’s hard for me to conceive of a Winter who, perched at the lip of the despair event horizon, will a) think enough of herself to make a decision for everyone and b) accept that the decision is imperfect and compromise, when she could just do what soldiers do, what she’s been asked to do, and die for an impossible cause.

(also not to belabor the point, but: ...how is she supposed to deliver Atlas to Salem? are we assuming that the Atlas Military works via Klingon Promotion, or that Ironwood gave her all his passwords?)

this is not to say that i think Winter will completely no-sell Salem (though that would be VERY funny). assuming that she and Salem do end up in the same room (which is still up in the air), i can easily picture a scenario where Salem manipulates Winter into making a bad decision (though honestly, Winter’s been doing just fine with that all on her own), but the distance between “a bad decision” and “a decision that she knows will help the Big Bad” is still quite far. i can similarly picture a scenario where Salem gradually sways Winter--not a single Anakin-style dramatic reversal, but an Atris-style descent-by-inches, through a million little non-choices--but that’s the thing: manipulation takes TIME, no matter how good at it you are, and we’re running up against the fact that the season ends in 6 episodes, and Winter is only one of about a trillion dangling threads.

tl;dr #4.2: the only way i can see Winter defecting to Salem THIS SEASON, then, is if it’s not her choice at all. for me, this makes the most thematic sense--that she’s been playing keep-away so long with her own agency, and Salem ends up resolving the issue by taking it away from her completely. that she wants so much to be sure she’s making the right choice, or to not have to make the call, and Salem gives her exactly what she wants. she’ll never have to think for herself again. we know Salem is capable of something like that, because we’ve just seen the Hound. Winter won’t be another Hound, if only because churning out the same horror will only yield diminishing returns, but she might be...something else.

regardless, tl;dr #4.3: if “Winter defecting to Salem” shakes down in any way--either as originally posited or as i just described--it would be an FANTASTIC story and character engine. i’ve already talked about the potential conflict this could create within Team RWBY, but like...imagine Weiss talking to ANYONE about her sister. imagine Weiss talking to Emerald, who would have just joined the heroes, whose decision to cut herself off from Cinder would feel like a portent. imagine Winter with the villains! not just Salem, but Cinder! imagine the subtextual parallels between the two becoming TEXT. imagine the two of them having to work together! imagine how Cinder would feel to lose Emerald and get Winter. imagine how Mercury would feel! can you imagine Winter and Mercury bonding over their daddy issues?? because i can’t! but i wanna. my love for Winter isn’t contingent on her making the right choices, but on her getting the right material. this would not only be the right material, but A LOT OF IT, and if the writers do choose to go in this direction, i trust them enough to be excited about where it might go.

[clowniconography]

The first time I met her, she had a bee in the palm of her hand.

I’ll admit, I’ve never liked bugs. It’s not something I’m too ashamed of; most people don’t like bugs in some form or another, and my fear is certainly a lot more understated than some peoples’. I just need you to understand that I don’t like bugs, and never have, in order to put my actions into a little perspective.

That said, I think most people in my situation would’ve turned tail and ran at the sight of this woman, standing on the roof of an apartment building in early fall, surrounded on all sides by hives full of living, stinging, buzzing bees. 

But me? I couldn’t look away. 

She seemed to be wreathed in light, drawing it to herself like a halo--The sunset was just beginning and the sky behind her was bathed in pale yellow. It all matched her sundress, which was long and a different shade of yellow (and honestly a bit light considering the chilly time of year). 

Okay, I’ll admit it--it was a bit of an understatement to say that there was only one bee, and that it was only in the palm of her hand. The truth is she was covered in them; not like some circus performer attempting to give himself a “beard of bees” to please a crowd, no, but everywhere I looked a bee seemed to have found its way there, crawling on her exposed skin or attempting to feed at the sunflower print on her dress. 

I was awestruck and silent at first, and I thought I had been quiet enough for her not to notice me, until she spoke. The incessant buzzing that surrounded us seemed to dim slightly in order for me to hear her.

“Please don’t smoke up here.” she said. 

I jumped and looked down at the pack of cigarettes in my hand like I hadn’t even realized they were there until she’d said something. I hastily stuffed them into the breast pocket of my jacket and took a few steps towards her.

“Sorry, I--I hadn’t realized there was someone up here.”

She nodded sagely, still not looking directly at me. “Yes. Not many know. Meyers lets me keep them up here as long as I promise to keep them…” she seemed to be searching for the right choice of words, “...‘under control’.” she said eventually, with ironic air quotes.

The roof we were standing on belonged to Meyers, as did the entire building below it. It was no mystery to me how this ethereal young woman had been able to charm that crotchety tomato-like man into letting her keep--I counted quickly--eight makeshift beehives on the roof of his building. I probably would’ve done the same in his situation.

“I just moved in.” I said, and then pinched myself for saying something so mundane--but I needed to do something to keep the conversation going. I sure as hell wasn’t about to just walk back to my apartment like I hadn’t seen anything.

She smiled, finally meeting my eyes. “I can see that,” she said. “Most people who live here know not to come up to the roof. I tell them not to smoke up here but my little friends seem to do most of the convincing themselves, and I never have to worry about it again after the first warning.”

I laughed “Yeah, I can imagine.” I took another step forward. I didn’t notice a bee landing on my jacket sleeve, and in return it did not sting me. 

“Are you not scared?” she said, sounding like she didn’t care if I answered, or left, or died right there on the spot.

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen this many in one place, and usually I’d be pretty freaked out but...no, I’m not scared.” I surprised myself with my fearlessness, and I saw her eyebrows raise in a similar response.

“Well, it helps that you seem to have them pretty under control” I said.

She smiled, saying nothing. 

---

I kept visiting her for the next few weeks. I was worried I might annoy her with my visits, but she revealed nothing about how she felt and I kept finding myself unable to resist climbing those stairs most nights.

I found out her name was Valerie, but it felt strange to use it. It was like tethering a name to a force of nature; trying to pin down something that wanted to fly, to be free. 

With every visit I stood closer and closer to her, eventually claiming a place in one of the long-disused lawn chairs nearby. I would sit and talk to her for an hour or two while she tended to her “little friends”, and while she was as opaque as ever, the more I got to know her, the more confident I was that she enjoyed the company. She didn’t strike me as someone with many close friends. 

Never did I notice that each of her bees seemed to be a different type. I let them land on me, now, without worry; not as much as she did, certainly, but the more it happened the less afraid I became. Some of them were fat, fuzzy, almost cute bumblebees, and others were the pointed sleek bodies of yellow jackets, with every type in between also making appearances. 

I was used to seeing all different types of bees in what little nature I’d been exposed to in my life, so it never occured to me that these different species were not usually meant to coexist. 

I brought her food a couple times--coffee, donuts, and once Chinese takeout. The coffee and takeout sat untouched, but she devoured the donuts ravenously and my heart swelled at the thought that my offering was appreciated.

Looking back, I’m a bit ashamed at how smitten I was, how desperate my various attempts to win her favor had been. At the time, though, I felt nothing but totally in love and desperate for her to like me, to acknowledge me past our meetings on the roof. 

Once I bought her a mug shaped like a bee that I had seen at a kitsch shop on my way home from work. It was round and painted with black and yellow stripes and a dopey little smiley face, and the handle was shaped like a pair of wings. 

She squealed when I revealed it to her, happier than I’d ever seen her, and I in that moment I think I was happier than I’d ever been. 

I hadn’t even thought about smoking a cigarette for weeks. 

---

One day, a few weeks after our first meeting, I was sitting there on the roof as I always did. She was standing at the hive nearest to me, with only a few feet of air and about one thousand bees between us. It was then, watching her as I always did, that I saw it--a patch of yellow on the inside of her wrist. 

Without thinking I reached out and grabbed her. This was the first time we’d ever touched, and I was surprised by the texture of her skin. I want to say it was clammy, but that wasn’t it--it was some other, similar feeling, almost like wax. 

She yelped as I yanked her towards me--I realize now how insensitive I was being, but I’m a medical resident and the patch of skin looked terribly infected. I was terrified, honestly, with the idea that she might be getting sick.

I only got to glance at it before she yanked her arm away. The bit of skin on her wrist was textured with what looked like a bunch of little holes, mixed with a scratchy, papery texture and patches of raised bumps. 

After taking her wrist out of my hands she stared down at me, the anger in her eyes at that moment being the strongest emotion I’d ever seen her exhibit.

“Valerie, I..I think there might be something wro--”

“Out!” she screeched, gnashing her teeth at me. I was suddenly, terrifyingly aware of how many of her “little friends” were currently exploring my skin. 

“But Valerie--”

“I said get OUT!”

I know it sounds stupid, but I could’ve sworn that the buzzing grew with her voice, raising from simply a background noise to a loud cocaphony which engulfed my thoughts and made my whole head vibrate. 

As she yelled at me again and again to get out, to get away, the buzzing seemed to drown out her voice--but at the same time, the buzzing was her voice.

I ran, not stopping until I reached my apartment, my breath heaving.

In my bedroom I stripped off every piece of clothing I wore and inspected every inch of my skin to see if a single one had followed me inside. I was irrational with fear, and when I threw away the clothes I’d been wearing I had to resist the urge to burn them, too. 

---

Despite the fear I felt that day, it didn’t take very long for the need to return to the roof to come back. I was so used to the routine that I had to force myself to focus on other things; watching TV and doing work and playing video games when it would’ve been so easy to let my legs carry me up those steps. 

I wondered how long I should wait before apologizing. Should I do it at all? Would she just rather I not speak to her? The thought that I might never see her again scared me. 

I kicked myself when I remembered that I had no clue which apartment she lived in. I realized how little I knew about her besides her name; what had we talked about those days on the roof together? Did she know where my apartment was, or even my name? My mind blanked.

After two weeks the waiting became too much--I was determined to apologize to her. I convinced myself that I didn’t care if she told me that she never wanted to see me again; that all I needed was closure.

I found my way up to the roof the way I had dozens of times before. I realized I was straining my hearing, listening for that telltale buzzing that I still sometimes heard in my dreams. 

It wasn’t until the final flight that I heard it, much quieter than it had been the last time I’d been there.

I opened the door to the rooftop and the chill hit me like a wall. It was no longer just the start of fall; the season was on in full force with winter creeping around the corner. Despite this, the buzzing was as strong as I was used to and the bees were as active as ever, flying to and fro in their little focused clouds.

Valerie was nowhere to be seen. This was the first time I’d come to the roof without her there, and the chill felt stronger without the warmth of her presence. 

I wove through the hives as if in a dream, no longer really concerned with wondering where Valerie was. I let the constant buzzing fill my mind, let the vibration of it worm its way deep into my very marrow. I let the bees land wherever they wanted; my hands, my shoulders. Any final bit of fear I harbored against them was gone. 

It worried me that Valerie wasn’t there to take care of them, and I made the resolute decision to keep checking each day to see if she’d come back. I’d learned a lot about beekeeping from observing her, and I’d tend to them intermittently in case she didn’t come back at all. 

After walking through the rows, inspecting each of the hives for any possible damage, I made my way back to the door. I was about to leave, to return to my apartment, when I felt a sudden urge. 

I turned around and counted out the hives. There were nine of them; just as there always had been.

I smiled to myself and went back inside.   

[katcadecascade]

New Qrow fic WIP

It’s a bit of a character study but mostly RWBY/JNOR/more doing shenanigans.

The only problem, I can’t think of a name for this fic.

Anyway here, Chapter One/Round One: Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Blake will admit, she’s a sucker for romance.

How could she not be?

In a world where morbid emotions attract monsters, where injustice breeds from hatred of culture and birth traits, something as simple and layered as love is beautiful and strong and can power people through their darkest moments but also bring them to their knees.

She should say she just learned this all from her books but honestly in the last year or so, Blake has certainly lived through some crazy shit.

But let’s not get into that right now.

Sure her tale begins with her people’s suffering, her parent’s pacifism, a poor boy’s spite, and her own frightful shadows. She could go write to great lengths on how the journey gained her treasured friends, bonds forged through fire, and how it lead them to the coldest place of the north.

That’s where this game begins.

Yes a game indeed or maybe a war by the sharpness in the Valkyrie’s eyes or the telltale song notes of glyphs charging up.

It began with a series of events that piqued the interest of the eight (and later on more) charges under the wings of Qrow Branwen.

The first thing they noticed took place on their very first night in Atlas, where one General James Ironwood hugged the scythe master. The two thought they were alone but the nieces back tracked to get their uncle.

While they made the wise decision to leave the men alone, the girls immediately blurted their findings to the rest of their friends.

Their reactions were of surprise and cooing but it only trigger their radars to look out for more of these moments. None of them could recall ever seeing Qrow be so vulnerable with anyone else. Granted they didn’t spend the most time with him but even Yang and Ruby were caught off guard.

This was their uncle so ultimately this was under Yang’s and Ruby’s discretion or wonderment.

That didn’t stop the rest of them from being curious to see what else will happen between Qrow and Ironwood.

Small and subtle were the ways of the General, lingering eyes or the quietly inviting the huntsman into his office. Ruby’s sniper skills were used for observations like these. Her skills in stealth could’ve been better to muffle her cooing.

Things were going steady, slowly seeing the man underneath the steel. Maybe then the kids could decide to trust him with the truth from the Lamp. Not that Qrow’s compromised in anyway, but seeing this spark between them certainly helps the kids trust the general a little bit more.

James Ironwood appeared to be able to offer up his heart to Qrow.

So imagine their surprise when Clover Ebi entered the game.

There’s that word again: game.

It’s a little immature to describe it as so but Blake couldn’t think of any other word.

Blake and the others keep noticing certain events focused on Qrow, usually engaged by one man or the other.

Small side glances, a brushing of hands, coffee treats and many more that can be listed as intimate or thoughtful or purposeful. Although, Clover’s flirting are rather forward. Most importantly, Qrow’s happiness is the growing outcome.

And pray tell what game is this? Where two men woo a common thread that is slowly becoming enamored by these actions?

A courting game.

Hands slam down on the kitchen table. “Everyone, place your bets!”

“We are so not betting on this!” Weiss crossed her arms, perfectly poised and unmoved.

“Come on,” Nora whined, “There’s nothing else to do here.”

“Aside from doing our jobs and brainstorming how to save the world?”

“All I’m saying is that we need a break from all the seriousness and focus on Team Dad.”

On the couches, only Blake noticed the resident nieces share a glance. They don’t argue against their uncle’s title, instead they quirk their lips in a knowing look.

(Blake later understands their silent exchanges when a game changer occurs)

“Nora’s right,” Jaune agreed, “and I usually never want to say that.”

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who broke the coffee machine by trying to fix it,” Oscar pointed out. Behind him said device has a despairing groan.

Ruby follows up, “And then got the rest of us blaming each other for it.”

“Enough, enough,” the redhead shouted, “We’re getting off track!”

“We are not conspiring on Qrow’s love life!” Weiss proclaimed.

“She’s right,” Ren said with the composure of a sage, highlighted as he sipped his tea, “There’s no need to.”

Yang raised an eyebrow, both curious and surprised, “What do you mean?”

Everyone waited for their resident ninja to finish another long drink, for dramatic effect Blake must note.

Then simply enough, he answers, “Qrow would fall for the General.”

That was clearly not the answer Nora wanted.

She’s a sputtering mess while next to her, Weiss holds her head high.

“Thank you, someone else sees my point,” the ex-heiress nods.

Sharpness in Jaune’s voice catches her off guard, “Your point? You think Ironwood’s gonna get with Qrow?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Nora butts in, a strange tension in her shoulders, “Sure yeah but look at Clover!”

Her team leader listed off, “They’re mission partners but also hanging around each off in their downtime.”

“Yes,” Nora nods enthusiastically, “Just like Jaune with Marrow.”

“H-hey wait-“

“You haven’t seen Qrow with James alone though.”

Again, everyone is quiet as they stare down their resident cute wizard boy.

Oscar squirms a little under the attention, backtracking, “Oh, um, I only mean um I would see them right before James tutors me? And Qrow would sometimes be there too and,” he sighs heavily, “honestly it’s like my aunt’s romance novels.”

Blake immediately guesses the classic tropes of longing, quiet vulnerability, trust and intimacy. She doesn’t voice her thoughts. No need since Weiss happily regales her own findings.

“Winter says that she’s never seen Ironwood so relaxed before. Sure she’s a little teed that it was Qrow’s doing but the results are still good.”

“But what about Qrow’s ‘results’ when he’s with Clover,” Nora argued.

Ruby does her little head shake, musing over her thoughts, “He is a lot calmer or relaxed.”

Nora cackles at the fuming Weiss, affronted at her girlfriend not on her side.

That’s rectified as Ruby taps her chin, scholarly and not noticing Weiss’ heat, “Although he is a lot more teasing around Ironwood.”

“See!” Weiss grins as if this is victory. Her current rival is unbothered.

“He’s the same with Clover,” Nora counters and honestly Weiss can’t possibly argue with that.

Too many times have the kids witness Qrow becoming a bumbling, blushing mess when Clover compliments him. There’s so much bi/gay tension there to even think of denying.

“Qrow must be taking his time then,” Blake voiced. “With both Ironwood and Clover, maybe he’s a bit overwhelmed.”

Next to her, Yang sighs, “Knowing him, he might not realize what’s going on unless someone tells him.”

“Or he’s aware of all of this happening and dismisses it as something that can’t actually happen to him,” Jaune painfully accurately describes as what is probably going on.

This type of denial of happiness, this consuming pit of numbness and pain, people who loved and lost and felt guilty for even loving and losing need to be told they’re deserving of love.

Maybe Jaune’s speaking for himself or maybe Blake’s interpreting for her own experiences.

But one shared glance with the knight confirms her thoughts. Qrow must have talked to him too about this type of grief.

The blame and the guilt and the responsibility of losing someone, be it person of goodness or of spite, it’s a heavy feeling that Blake, Jaune, Qrow and possible the others too have carry.

So while the huntsman tries to assure the two kids of their grievances, there hasn’t been an opportune time to ask how he’s coping. As the young adults under his care, they all worry about him, especially his nieces. At first he was the mysteriously cool uncle as proclaimed by Ruby and later on the secretive and paranoid uncle explained by Yang but in their shared time together, each kid gotten to know the crow by their own definitions.

It’s like that little thing Blake does, associate a word with a person.

She told Sun about her girls, Earnest, Defiance, and Strength.

Then there’s team JNPR, Tenacity for Jaune, Zestful for Nora, Ascendancy for Pyrrha and Acuity for Ren. It took some time but eventually Oscar became Perseverance.

As for Qrow, well, she jokingly thought Mother Hen but now she’s satisfied to call him Memory.

It’s mostly because of all the Muninn parallels but there is just so much history behind Qrow Branwen. Carried in the creak in his bones, dips in his scars, the grey of his feathery hair, the surprise in his laughs, like he’s relearning how it is to walk with ghosts and angels.

So yeah, Blake sometimes worries about him and then she and Weiss worry about Ruby and Yang getting worried too.

But maybe there’s no need to.

From the soft gazes he sets on James and Clover, maybe they’re the ones making sure their Team Dad/Uncle is doing okay.

Now if only Qrow’s love life can move to the next stage.

Their conversation during breakfast was more than enough as food for thought, analyzing everything they know of Qrow Branwen and how he interacts with two men in particular.

Early mission meetings are obviously designated Clover Flirting Time as they get to their seats.

“I wouldn’t mind having another match with you,” Clover said casually as if it didn’t take weeks of near begging for a one on one fight.

“Really? You enjoy falling on your ass that much, lucky charm?”

“Sure do,” Clover slides close, letting his hip press against Qrow’s. “But I like seeing you down on the mats just as much.”

That flirt was meant to be whispered, low and teasing and it definitely sends a blush down Qrow’s neck. It’s a real shame that Blake has an extra set of ears to hear this.

Then from the sight of Marrow almost choking on his coffee, he probably heard it too.

The dog faunus and the cat faunus exchange silent misery.

“Ooh, another match?” Nora, being her glorious self, pops right at Qrow’s side and the two men nearly jump. “Hah, that’s a bit boring by now.”

Clover raises a brow, slightly wary and challenged, “Boring?”

Nora nods her head as Ren-like as possible, “Yep, I mean, training doesn’t have to be combat does it?”

Qrow blinks at her, and so does her teammates because hey, this is Nora complaining about combat training. “Nora, you got something else in mind?”

This encouragement, openness and trust, Blake wouldn’t have noticed it before but Qrow has been putting a lot more faith in them since Argus. It’s really nice to have an adult take them seriously. Then again this is Qrow. He encouraged Yang and Jaune to start a prank war.

Their resident lightning in a bottle had a million volt grin, “Parkour and freerunning! We all saw the Ops jumping around in the mines and that time Qrow and Winter destroyed the campus.”

“Miss Valkyrie,” hissed the ice queen, “I advise you to refrain from telling that anecdote.”

“What, feeling sore since you lost?” Qrow grinned.

“I did not lose, Qrow,” she glared, “it was clearly a stalemate.”

“Wow, now I’m really curious,” Clover said.

“I’ll tell you all about it then,” Qrow winked, “like how I clearly would’ve won.”

Next to Nora, Jaune added in, “There was a recording of it going around campus, like from the moment Qrow bushed back his bangs to the end where the General stopped the fight.”

To Blake, it’s a little odd to see Jaune gush about this since majority of them choose to ignore the usually mushiness of Clover Flirting Time. But then she notice the way Jaune subtly elbowed his teammate.

“Brush your bangs?” Clover’s focus on that little detail had him reach over to do said action, “Huh, you don’t look that intimidating like this.”

Like this, as they all observe, is Qrow blushing madly at the close contact and gentle action, the way Clover’s fingers glided through his dark hair like water.

Oblivious to the two men, everyone else in the room saw Jaune and Nora fist bump each other. They don’t even hide their smugness. No they toss it over at Weiss and Ren.

Ren is slightly alarmed.

Their resident ice princess on the other hand is silently fuming.

Like Blake mentioned before, this is a game.

It may be petty, invasive, and a tad immoral.

And yet it has begun.

-

So yeah, I need fic title suggestions and ideas

pls

[salemsoul]

The Gentleman Bastard’s sequence Fanfic. (Spoilers)

Overview: Locke and Jean find Sabetha 5 years after the events in Karthain only to find out she has a child.

It had been five years since Locke and Jean had last seen Sabetha. That fateful night in Karthain played repeatedly on Locke's mind, and despite his pain, he stayed true to his word and did not seek her out. Jean often thought they were being too true, and that just finding her would certainly save him how many more years of headaches until she resurfaced again. His friend Locke was as stubborn as a debt collector but complained like a toddler, and with 10 years total, not including their short time with the bondsmagi, of his bullshit whinging about Sabetha, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

They had heard rumours throughout the years about her. Whisperings about the rose of the marrows resurfacing and destroying lives, some even said she was dead. But that's all they were. Whisperings. When created, myths tend to grow and twist all of their own.

However, Jean followed the rumours as much as he could. If he mentioned any to Locke he would just reply with "Well, I hope she's having the time of her life, and absolutely fucking miserable," often accompanied by said friend guzzling down the nearest bottle of wine until he was in a hazy stupor.

Due to Locke's almost constant drunken, depressed state, Jean was in charge of where they travelled, and the few months they were there Locke would hyper-focus on a new scheme, seemingly cured from his ailments, until it was all over, and Locke the mess would return. During this time, they'd even found themselves in the middle of a war, taking advantage of people's needs for supplies and weapons to charm the coins out of their pockets, only to find themselves in bigger trouble. Thank goodness that was now behind them, and Jean hoped this next city would finally reunite them with Sabetha.

The previous places they had visited had all been due to rumours about Sabetha's whereabouts, not that Jean ever told Locke that, and their arrival at Halgaist, a mountain village, was for the same reasons.

If Locke noticed this wasn’t the best place for a scheme, he didn't say, but they had accumulated a nice amount of wealth recently that they weren't desperate for money.

About a week into their stay, Jean was just about to think that Halgaist was yet another dead end, when they met her.

Earlier that day, Jean had roused Locke enough to convince him that a walk around the markets might spark his mind for a scheme. Locke begrudgingly agreed, dressing himself at a leisurely pace, before following Jean out of the door into the late afternoon chill.

Halgaist was famous for its winter markets, where craftsmen who lived deeper into the mountains, came to the town to sell their wares for the winter period. The whole town centre was filled with stalls selling items from furniture to warmed wine and dried fruit.

Jean and Locke were just at one of these stalls, admiring the intricately carved wooden toys and music boxes when they locked eyes with Sabetha on the other side.

The three froze, not quite believing that who was in front of them was not a spectre before tears started to fall. Sabetha rushed around the table, dodging milling citizens and accidentally hitting a few with the paper bag she held in one hand before launching herself at the two men.

"I never thought I'd see you two again," she said between tears, pulling them into her arms and squeezing again. Locke seemed beyond words so Jean said,

"And us, you." Relief washed through Jean, the hunt was finally over, but a look to his right told him enough about what Locke was feeling. Locke was frozen, staring off into the distance with tears sliding down his face as if he was in a trance. Sabetha didn't seem to notice so ushered them out of the crowds and to the empty side of the large square.

"Would you two like to come to mine, we can talk about our time apart over some spiced wine and cakes." Sabetha looked mostly to Locke as she said this, chewing nervously on her lower lip, and when Locke didn't reply Jean simply said,

"We'd love to," before gesturing for her to lead the way. Sabetha looked at Locke, who was still staring off into the distance, before offering Jean a tight lipped smile and nodded.

Sabetha lead them to a small district just out of the town full of cosy wooden cabins and snow-capped mountain tops. Sabetha talked and talked about the history of the town and about her favourite places to visit while rarely turning around to check if the two men were following her. She led them up to one of these cabins, tucked slightly out of the way behind a few grand pine trees, before welcoming them inside.

Jean and Locke followed her into what served as the kitchen in this quaint two storey cabin, and sat down at the large oak table in the centre of the room while Sabetha fussed, rushing upstairs for a few moments and then added a few logs to the already burning fire in the hearth and grabbing the wine, her paper bag discarded on the table.

Sabetha sat perpendicular to Locke at the table, to Locke's left, while Jean sat to his right. Jean then began spinning the tale of the last few years, talking about their troubles in Emberlain and a few honourable mentions from their latest schemes. Locke would occasionally quip in, and as time passed Locke seemed to relax and become more himself, much to Jean's relief.

Sabetha was looking at Locke as if she had something to say, still nervously chewing on that lip, while nodding along to their tale, barely lifting her eyes to look at Jean. Jean tried not to feel the sting. Sabetha probably missed Locke as much as he missed her, but had yet to tell them the reason for her departure in Karthain in the first place, content to let them take the lead in this conversation.

They were just down to halfway on their second bottle of spiced wine when a small voice arose from behind Jean. "Mama, who are these people?" Jean turned to see a small girl, not more than three or four years too her, clutching a soft toy to her chest. She wore a long white nightgown, grazing her ankles, and had messy red hair. Her steely blue eyes bore into Jean's, leaving him blinking confusedly at Sabetha a question on his face. Locke's expression mirrored his own as his eyes set on the girl, except with an added bit at horror.

Sabetha rushed to the little girl, crouching down in front of her. "Did we wake you up from your nap?" Sabetha said, smoothing the girl's hair. The little girl shook her head. "Do you want to go back up to bed?" The little girl shook her head again. Sabetha let out a sigh, before picking up the girl, carrying her on her hip and setting her on her lap as she sat down back in the chair she had just left. Sabetha reached over and picked up a small slice of cake from the table and presented it to the girl, who greedily accepted it into her tiny hands, leaving her toy to fall on the floor.

Locke picked it up, placing it on the table between them before saying, "So, you have a child." Jean could tell pain laced every calm word. The thought that Sabetha might have moved on, had even started a family, had never crossed their minds. To Jean, it had always been Locke and Sabetha, even when the years drifted on without a sign from her, to think that it could now be Locke, and Sabetha and someone else, hit Jean in a way he couldn't describe. Jean did the maths in his head, if this girl was indeed about three or four years old as he suspected, it means she must have been conceived not long after they split ways in Karthain. Could Sabetha really have found someone and moved on that quickly?

The girl was staring at Jean again as she messily ate the cake. There was something about her eyes that felt off to him. They were wise and assessing beyond her years, and hauntingly familiar.

Sabetha drew her gaze from Locke, wiping a few crumbs from her daughters dress. "Uh yes I do. I was going to tell you two as soon as I saw you again, but it was too hard, I'm sorry. I really was going to tell you tonight though."

Locke took a swig from his wine, "well as long as you are happy, and as long as her father cherishes her, and you."

"About that,-" Sabetha was interrupted by her little girl, cake now demolished, reaching over and pulling Sabetha's glass towards herself with her sticky hands. "Ah ah ah, that's not for you." The girl let out a little whinge and started puffing out her lips. Sabetha let out a long sigh, "Fine, but just a sip." She helped her daughter take a swig, and when she pulled the glass away the little girl let out a little giggle from her wine soaked mouth directed at Locke. Locke seemed stunned at the little girl's sudden attention, but gave her a smile before lifting his own glass up in a salute and downing it to the dregs.

Sabetha then wiped the girls mouth on her dress, staining it a light pink, before tucking the girl into her arms in a cuddle and continued, "As I was saying," Sabetha took a long breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say, "her father has not had a chance to cherish her," a look to Locke, "because her father is you."

The words shot through Locke and Jean, and they couldn't quite believe what they were hearing. Locke seemed to have been transported to wherever the Eldren had gone at the words and they were going to have to scrap his jaw off of the table.

Deep understanding settled in Jean. Of course he knew those eyes. Those where Locke's eyes in the little girl that were now slowly drifting off to sleep in her mother's arms, and the maths made sense, she must have been conceived that night in Karthain, when Sabetha disappeared, making the little girl just past four years old.

Locke sputtered, shaking his head, "and you didn't think to tell me, to find some way to contact me." His eyes went dark, and that was the rawest emotion Jean had seen from his friend in a while.

Regret painted Sabetha's face, and she pulled her daughter a little closer to her chest. "I did try. Please believe me I did, but I was also very scared. You see, the night I left, Patience was her name right? Well, she told me that I, that we, were going to have a daughter, and no matter what I did, she was going to find herself into this world, and if I did not leave now, we would lose our daughter because of you, and I was so shocked and scared, and I wanted my own little piece of this world, that I left. I tried to write you a note, but I knew you wouldn't understand, so I just gathered a few things and left. And don't think for one minute that in these last five years I haven’t regretted that decision, because I have regretted every moment. Especially when I gave birth and you couldn't be there to share that with me."

One of Sabetha's tears dropped onto her daughters cheeks and the little girl sat up with a start, her sleepy state gone, and brushed away the tears on her mother's face. Sabetha looked to her daughter and gave her a sweet smile, "thank you, darling, Mama's ok, don't worry." The girl only narrowed her eyes suspiciously, before nuzzling back into Sabetha's chest.

"I need some time to think Sabetha." Locke said, staring at the table. Sabetha stood up, cradling her daughter in her arms.

"I am going to go upstairs and put our daughter to bed, you can stay down here all you like and think away while I'm gone." And she walked out in the direction of the stairs.

"Locke," Jean started but Locke just gave his friend a look that stopped him in his tracks so neither of them spoke for several minutes. "At least we know why she left. And it’s a pretty damn good reason too."

Locke nodded absently, "Fucking patience, I hope she rots in hell wherever she is."

"That I can agree with," Jean said, taking a sip from his wine.

"I have a daughter Jean. A daughter. And I didn't even know. I've been drinking like a lonely widow while Sabetha has been here raising our daughter for me."

"You can't blame yourself Locke, you didn't know." Jean took this time to refill his friend's glass, but Locke didn't touch it.

"I couldn't even be a good garrista Jean. I let the only initiate we had die in front of me. How am I going to be a good father? Bug would be twenty now, twenty. If only I could have looked after him like chains did for us."

"Hey now, none of that is your fault, you did your best, and Bug had a better life with us, no matter how short it was, than he would have had had he stayed Shade's Hill. The Grey King and the Falconer wanted us all dead, we are lucky we escaped that ourselves, and you are lucky to have even fathered that child with the woman you loved. Don't I wish I could have had that opportunity."

"Jean. You know I don't mean to be ungrateful."

"I know, but just think, upstairs you have a beautiful little baby girl. Yes, you may not have been in her life for the first bit, but now you have a chance to be in the rest of it. So prove to yourself that you are worth more than all this drinking and scheming, and be the man I know you can be. That girls got a wonderful mother, and she'll do just fine raised by her, but I'm sure she'd be mighty grateful to have you there too." Jean picked up his glass again and took another drink.

"Jean, I need to go upstairs." Locke said, shakily standing on his feet.

"Then go then," was all Jean said, as Locke disappeared in the direction Sabetha went.

Locke got to the top of the landing and paused at the multiple closed wooden doors. A faint sound of singing could be heard from one just down the corridor and Locke knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open.

Sabetha was sat on the edge of a small cot in a cosily decorated room that was no doubt a child's. A few toys were strewn across the floor and small paintings, painted by a child's hand, hug on the wall. She was gently stroking their daughter's head, while singing an old Camorri tune they often heard the sailors sing when they were growing up. Sabetha stopped at the end of a verse, and Locke continued the song, perching next to her on the cot. Soft snores could soon be heard from the little being on the bed.

Sabetha then stood up slowly, and Locke followed her out of the room, where she closed the door softly behind them. Neither of them made a move to step away from the door, and stood in silence for a few long moments.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for the first few years of her life, but I would like to be in the future ones." Locke said softly, careful not to speak too loudly.

Sabetha didn't reply for another long while and turned away from him as she said, "Well, that depends. Are you going to insist on continuing your ridiculous schemes, because I told you once and I will tell you again Locke, but I can’t live with you as a garrista. And I don't want that life for our daughter either."

"If that is what it takes, though I don't know what I will do with myself I will admit."

Sabetha turned around slightly, "enjoy life, instead of living scheme to scheme and destroying people's lives. I admit it is fun, but there are other jobs that also require our particular skill set." She took a few steps towards him. "I've taken up acting. There's a small theatre troop here and I work with them. It's not a lot of money, but for once I don't have to worry about being caught. Join us, have a break and raise our daughter with me."

"What if I'm not any good and I mess her up somehow?" Locke said, taking Sabetha's hands in his own.

"You have to trust yourself. She can't be as messed up as we are. I've coped this long on my own, trust me, it's not easy, but it's a lot of fun." Sabetha reached up a hand and cupped Locke's cheek, he gave her palm a small kiss and covered her hand with his own.

"I'll do my best, you can be garrista for this," Locke smiled.

Sabetha gave a small chuckle, "Trust me, the only garrista here is snoring away in her bed."

"Is she really that much trouble?"

"Oh, just wait and see."

[kkintle]

Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes     A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers     In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it.   Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve.   We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow.   And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow.   With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off.   Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go.   They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort     Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it.   I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me.   Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air.   Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark.   Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable     Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad     Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.”   It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend.   The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit:   passersby could stop and stare.   When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence.   She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before.   No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor.   In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find.   It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly.   She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse.                      Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake.   She got up like you and me.   She walks just as people do.   And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades.   The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous.   For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station     My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot.   You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter.   You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time.   The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out.   My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit.   Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush.   Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately.   While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine.   The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors.   The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks.   Even a rendezvous took place as planned.   Beyond the reach of our presence.   In the paradise lost of probability.   Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive     These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next.   Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home     Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there!   “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother.   And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.”   Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love.   Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers.   There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams     In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft.   I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living.   I drive a car that does what I want it to.   I am gifted and write mighty epics.   I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint.   My brilliance as a pianist would stun you.   I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own.   Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass.   I’ve got no problem breathing under water.   I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis.   It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying.   As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side.   I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be.   A few years ago I saw two suns.   And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing.   Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that. 

Under One Small Star     My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.   Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note     I owe so much to those I don’t love.   The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more.   The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep.   The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that.   I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would.   From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity.   Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen.   And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map.   They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon.   They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands.   “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself     The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean.   A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right?   Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light.   On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it.   I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question.   Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far.   But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth.   An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything.   Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words     When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past.   When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.   When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again?   KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan.   And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too. 

Assassins     They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary.   Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long.   I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes.   Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.