#I’m glad of the characterization I’ve got here I feel like it’s accurate

[mangobubbletea7]

Remember the DSMP/MCYT citizen memes? I think we should make ones like those again but it’s just memes predicting what we’ll be posting about as a fandom or as ex-fandom members in like a decade from now. Here are my first contenders:

• Not my coworker asking if I saw who the new Vice Presidential frontrunner is and me looking it up to see that it’s fucking ConnorEatsPants HELP 💀💀💀

• “Living life peacefully. Remembering BadBoyHalo has 4 kids now” jumpscare meme.

• Has anyone else seen that trending law firm ad for Quackity’s new practice? Crazy that he got Mr. Beast in there, I thought he hadn’t left the bunker for 3 years? Or did they film it in the Beast™️ Underground Content Room?

• Tubbo: “Tommy it’s time for the 48th origins SMP reboot”

Tommy: “Yes honey”

• LOVEJOY AT THE MET GALA THIS YEAR?????

• Guys! I’m eating my apocalypse rations and I think Michael McChill was just behind me in line. I couldn’t really tell because of all the smog but it sounded like him,,, small world I guess. If I see him again I’ll start humming Mamma Mia to find out

• If I had a nickle for every time a former DSMP member won a Nobel Prize, I’d only have 2 nickles but it’s weird that it happened twice

• Anyone remember when Hasan started that IRL gardening stream trend? And then Karl started showing up on HGTV landscaping shows? That was a weirdly entertaining spring.

• the jerma-jack manifold collab channel is pretty strange tbh but it’s funnier than i thought it’d be

[idy-ll-ique]

Art.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: jealousy and insecurity

Requested: nope

Summary: In which Steve is into art but Y/N is not.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Haven't got anything to say specifically so,,, enjoy the fic! Hope you like it!

[Y/H - Your Hobby]

---

"Oh my God, this is awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Y/N smiled softly, staring at the pure joy on Steve Rogers' face as he stared at the beautiful painting in front of him. "So much! Ah, realistic paintings, they're always so amazing. Do you like them?" he grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sure, they look cool," Y/N shrugged, not really understanding the painting. It was aesthetically pleasing, though.

Well, anything to make her boyfriend happy. They were at an art gallery in Brooklyn, which Steve loved to visit. Y/N, knowing how much Steve liked art, and her, always accompanied him. Steve and Y/N had been dating for nearly a year now. "Yeah! I know you aren't into art, but thanks for coming."

Y/N scoffed, burrowing closer to him. "You're my boyfriend, bro, anything for you." She giggled when he gave her a playful shove, immediately pulling her back to him. "Don't call me that, I'm your boyfriend," he chided jokingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sure you are." Steve laughed, ruffling her hair.

"We've been together for a year." They stood in front of an abstract painting. Just as Y/N was about to retort, they heard someone clearing their throat. Turning around, they saw a woman standing there, smiling at them. "Hello, I'm Tiffany! You're Steve Rogers, if I'm correct?" she addressed the man.

"I am, and this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N," Steve answered with a polite smile, unconsciously pulling Y/N closer to him. He didn't like the way Tiffany was looking at him. "This is my painting, do you like it?" Tiffany asked. There was something off about her... "Ah, sure sure, it looks really good." Even though he didn't trust Tiffany, he couldn't lie about the art.

"Thank you! What do you think about it, Y/N?" Tiffany turned her smile unto Y/N. The woman blinked and glanced at the art. "It's nice," she shrugged truthfully. "Ooh, I'm so glad! The meaning is truly wonderful, I worked hard on it," Tiffany clapped her hands. "Yeah… the meaning…" Y/N cleared her throat, looking away from her.

"If you wanna see more of my art, you're very welcome to check it out! This one is on sale, actually, if you would consider," Tiffany offered, looking directly at Steve. "Oh no, not here to buy anything, just to admire," Steve chuckled, waving his arm in dismissal. "Okay, okay, but if you want to ever talk about art, you can give me a call. Toodles!"

With that, Tiffany handed Steve a business card, turned around and left. Steve stared at the card he involuntarily accepted, scrunching his nose. "Oh God, that—" He cursed, throwing the card into a nearby trash can. "What about her? I think she was lovely," Y/N lied, giving him a quick smile.

"She was clearly condescending! Ugh!" Steve rolled his eyes, "Anyway, we don't wanna ruin our day. Let's continue with the art!" Y/N's mind wandered as she casually latched on Steve's arm, ignoring the words he was saying to her. She couldn't help but think about Tiffany and how it was clear that she was hitting on her boyfriend.

To be honest, Tiffany was kind of better than her. Steve and Y/N had no common interests, why was he even interested in her? Why wasn't he into Tiffany? Steve's main attraction was art, he loved it more than anything else in the world and yet he continued to be with a woman who had absolutely no curiosity in said thing.

Why?!

Y/N softly groaned.

Oh no, this was gonna be a problem.

Which she was gonna fix.

---

Impressionism is a 19th-century art movement characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities (often accentuating the effects of the passage of time), ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial...

Y/N blinked and yawned, throwing her phone on the bed. "Ugh! Why is art so fucking boring and frustrating?!" she moaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She sat up all of a sudden, squinting at the clock in the corner of the room. It was 4:56 am. "Or maybe I'm just tired…" She lay back down on the bed and kept her phone away.

The thing is, ever since that one visit to the art gallery, Y/N's little confusion about Tiffany and Steve had turned into the biggest insecurity of hers. Since that time, she had been limiting her meetings with Steve, as was she learning more about the thing that made Steve most happy: Art.

Steve hadn't questioned her as of yet, which was good. He didn't suspect a thing. She knew he didn't like Tiffany, given how he had called her unsavory things and also immediately threw her business card in the trash. Y/N just couldn't help feeling like she didn't belong with Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Steve, meanwhile, also awake, was sitting on the balcony in his room, thinking about his girlfriend. Why had she been acting so weird for the past one month? Absolutely refused to be around him for more than half-an-hour, sounded tired every time they talked and knew surprisingly a lot about paintings.

How? And why? He sighed and got up, stumbling into his bedroom. A little talk tomorrow won't hurt, right? Running a hand through his hair, he plopped down on the bed, lay down and finally decided to sleep.

---

"Y/N? Sweetie, can I talk to you?" Y/N glanced at Steve. "Yeah, what happened?" she smiled when he sat next to her, putting an arm around her. "Is everything okay with you? Lately you've been… kind of strange," he whispered. "I'm fine! Just having trouble sleeping, that's it," Y/N muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

They were sitting in his room at the Stark Tower. "No, it's something else. I've known you for a year, my love, tell me. I'm here for you," he assured her, brushing her hair with his fingers. "Fine! It's Tiffany! She got into my head," Y/N groaned, burying her face in his neck. "Her?! That— sorry," Steve blushed when Y/N gave him a pointed look.

"Look, I get it, man. You're Captain America, you're America's hottest man or something and women literally flock to you all the time but she— she likes art. Just like you do. You both know so much about it, it's insane! I'm only thinking, why am I with you? I've never been interested in art, and Tiffany actually seems like a fun person to be around."

"So you got a little insecure?" Steve teased, pressing his lips to her temple. "I haven't slept in a month! Why do you think I know so much about art all of a sudden?" Y/N huffed, looking away from him. He froze. She gave up her sleep just to make sure she was… worthy of his affections?

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying. I slept at 6 am yesterday. Today, technically speaking. I had to be at my job at 8, and I got half an hour of sleep all because I was researching impressionist art— Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N deadpanned. Steve continued to stare at her, a look of disbelief and incredulity on his face.

"I want to tell you something very important." He pulled away and turned to sit face-to-face with her. "What's that?" she mumbled. "I love you. I love you so much, Y/N, you're the most gorgeous woman I've seen, we are happy together and I like that. We have different interests, of course I know that, but it doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it?"

"Because when we're together, next to each other, I have the best time of my life. Everything is blissful when you're with me and it's… it is euphoric. You don't need to learn about art just to hang out with me, I like rambling to you! Unlike artists, who would most definitely interrupt me at all times, you listen. And I like that. I also love listening to you talk about Y/H."

Y/N teared up at his words. "Thank you," she managed to blurt out, sniffling when Steve laughed and pulled her into his arms. "Off the bat, I knew what that bratty woman wanted. But I didn't want it because I already have it better," he chuckled, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

"I love you too," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, smiling softly when she felt him pressing a kiss to the top of her head. All of a sudden, there were knocks on the door. "Come in," Steve called out and Sam poked his head into the room. "Steve, we have a meeting in 15 minutes, just a heads up. Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Sam!" Y/N greeted enthusiastically. "I see you're doing better now," Steve smiled, wiping her tears away when Sam left. "I needed to talk and we did, I'm… I'm not insecure anymore," Y/N admitted, playing with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. "I'm glad we could sort this out. I gotta go now, talk to you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Bye!"

She smiled when he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss. "I love you!" he called out when he left the room. "I love you— close the door, you turd!" She laughed loudly when he turned around with a raised eyebrow. "I love you too, Steve," she grinned cheekily, bursting into boisterous laughter when he closed the door behind him.

Outside, Steve only smiled, happy that his girlfriend was doing much better.

See, a little conversation didn't hurt.

---

A/N: Hope you liked it! Leave a like if you did, thanks for reading!

[literaphobe]

mich, beloved, after encouraging u to throw bricks at people I am here to sing sadf praises.

before I totally sing praises i would first like to say that I never liked the car fic that shall not be named and I never will like it. HOWEVER I’ve always liked sadf and always will. so that person who said “it’s gonna be stupid gross car fic pt2.” no it’s not- and I am ur witness. car fic was blatantly sexualized and sadf is cool as fuck. it’s well written, ur characterization is CONSISTENT AND ACCURATE. it. is. wonderful.

anyway, chapter nine. chapter nine gets kisses and kisses and kisses and kisses and kisses. mich, I am kissing ur beautiful big brain. many things I particularly liked about sadf stick in my head, but I think the award for most cool things sticking in my head per chapter is gonna be for chapter nine. i love this. i love it I love it I love it.A A A AAGH I love the ending I love it ok it’s awesome. like. this is what it leads up to yeah? fuckin. sadf!george just refusing to talk about his stuff for so long and then it’s just out there now and it’s like “oh no!” for him and then dreams like. “ok well I liked that ahah.. aha.” Epic. it’s epic what can I say this is like exactly how it should go. oops gnf got jealous and spilled too much and he should probably stop talking but dreams like ok that’s cool that was Epic though and I liked That. and that’s. ok that’s kind of like. OKAY LOOK IM TIRED AND IM BLABBING IT WAS COOL AND IT WAS GOOD AND my brain doesn’t work goodly but godDAMN mich I am kissing u so much for your good choices in writing this UR SO COOLOOL. and the HAND THING. like. they just gotta hold hands yknow. AAAAGH OK the endings so good and ITS NOT EVEN THE WHOLE END YET. ITS THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER AND ITS JUST SO COOL. i am that guy who grabs the back of peoples chairs when they’re hype and just like shakes it like wooooooooo !!!!

ok I’m gonna shut up now actually because I’m not very good at putting my brain junk into proper sentences/words sometimes. just know that you are so cool, and sadf is so cool, and I couldn’t ask for anything better :]

NO thank you so much for these sentences 🥺🥺🥺 they mean the absolute world to me and im so so glad u agree!! THIS is how it had to happen… sadf!george in spite of all his agony was TOO COMFORTABLE and on some level while he thought he could never ‘have dream’ completely and continuously he never really conceived that he could lose him LIKE THIS and THIS FAST and it was just a tiny thing but. some people are very jealous in nature and we need that jealousy to kickstart action sometimes… he was a tiny bit too complacent and then he couldn’t hold anything back anymore bc it was all growing in him too all those feelings expanding and getting Worse

[sipsteainanxiety]

< MERMAN BAKUGO 3 i’m so so in love with the way you write him!!!!!! you’re so right about katsuki being the type to do things on his own terms, even when it comes to forming relationships. also these are my favourite types of slow burn, i’m super impressed with the detail & the research that went into this!! the one part that sticks out in my mind is the part when katsuki doing his sketches in the journal ( which in and of itself is a mind numbindly adorable concept, big merman bakugou hunger over this little sketch book like a little kid is so cute, i loved that imagery ) but the part that made me take a second to just be like, woah, was the bit when you went out of the way to mention how the pressure of his pencil markings changed the more comfortable he got with using it. it’s a bit strange now that i’m writing it out, especially since everything else about this was SO good and heartwarming <33 but it made me take a moment to rly appreciate all the finer details, even something as small as that contributes to how it comes together & i just think it was a brilliant touch. you definitely have katsuki pinned down, everything from the way he speaks to his mannerisms just seems so natural for his character & i love this interpretation of him! the way you describe him too is just !!!!!! just big & powerful but ethereally pretty with a handsome grin, got my heart racing man <33 other little details like the genus and species of coral were really interesting! i looked up each one which was nice to have that added visual aspect which made it all the more immersive. merman bakugou is one of my favourite aus ever and you did just such a brilliant job, hands down one of my favourite bakugou fics now! can’t wait to read more of this of its a series because i cannot get enough of the way you write him my heart is in a FRENZY <33333

AWEEE THANK U FOR SENDING THIS IN <33 i’m glad you like it so much!! merman bkg my BELOVED i always want more fics for him but i’ve only seen like. 2 rly long ones out in the fanficverse. we need MORE!! the people are starving!!

admittedly it was lowkey rough thinking abt how he’d react to certain things. there were actions i wanted reader to take and ways i wanted bkg to react but i couldnt add them in bc it was just too early in their relationship yk? like. for instance, i wanted to add in a part where reader would towel off his hair for him so tht the water from it wouldnt drip onto the sketchbook but bkg would NEVER allow that and it seemed to early to let that happen. thats okay tho there will be other opportunities in the future✨✨

i am SUCH a sucker for small details so it makes me happy that you noticed them!! i wrote in that pencil bit after i did the doodle of the sketchbook at the end of the chapter so i was like ah yes, rough harsh lines and angles. it suits him anyways.

i did a lot of research for this fic in general LOL i wanted it to seem as legit as possible. admittedly some of the scuba diving details will probably not be all too accurate but the reefs and the experiment stuff should! i love the ocean and i did take a few classes that helped out with some of the more sciencey details!

i’d been writing bkg fic since 2018 so id hope that his characterization would be spot on LOL sometimes i go back to my older works and im like… ew i wrote that? but i definitely feel like i have a more solid grasp of him now LMAO merbaku with his pretty face and scarred arms 😌✨ i lov he

but yes thank you for sending this in!! im rly rly happy you enjoyed the first chapter so much!!! it only gets better from here!! 💞💞

[terrainofheartfelt]

I think it's pretty amazing how much the gossip girl Fandom has changed. From my experience, most of my friends admit they didn't know what they were thinking with Chair when GG was on TV. And now you see this women empowerment movement. It's nice to know I've always been right about supporting DAIR. If only you saw the Fandom when GG was popular lol.

Oh, well for starters, let’s all be glad I wasn’t in the GG fandom while the original show was airing for a lot of reasons. Back then, I was a teenager DEEP into the twilight saga. My myspace page was all about my devotion to Team Edward. I was insufferable, my parents and brother are not on tumblr (thank whatever gods exist) but shoutout to them for loving me & putting up with me at my Peak Fangirl.

But to your point on how the fandom has changed, to put it extremely simply: I think it’s because we’re ten years older now. Most of my beloved gg mutuals are in their 20s like me, and while I can only speak for myself, the distance of my beliefs between when I was a teenager and the person I am now is VAST. My ideas of self, of feminism, of love, of sex, they’ve all evolved drastically over time.

Oh god especially my ideas of sex. My sex ed in high school wasn’t even in school, it was received via my church youth group [horrifying]. Now we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that, but I remember the exercise we did for the idea “just remember you’re having sex with everyone they’ve ever had sex with” (which, sidebar, I’ve always thought is a stupid ass phrase. That’s just not accurate, but I’m getting off topic) and it wasn’t that we were taught abstinence-only, but more like, “now don’t you want to keep this number as low as possible?”

So, between twilight and my religious upbringing, I’ve internalized this idea of “the first person you have sex with should also be the last person you have sex with,” and I think I’m still grappling with undoing that idea in my brain. BUT. bringing this back to GG: this idea permeates a lot of teen soaps in the 2000s, and the romantic fatalism that goes along with that.

I’ve been watching The OC for the first time, and it’s been interesting bc it’s the show the GG showrunners did before GG, so I can kind of see the blueprint for the ideas and characterizations that were really...amped up in Gossip Girl? Like OC is a dramatic-ass show, but it feels more gritty and grounded than Gossip Girl, in which everything feels heightened and elevated and...distanced, I guess? And these two shows are really actually period pieces, they are such snapshots & products of the area in which they were created -- which, carried those views of love and sex as a throughline throughout the course of their shows. (i.e., dan & blair both end up with their respective firsts, bc it’s Destiny. Or something like that).

So, when I first watched the show (I was a freshman in college, the show had just come up on netflix streaming - I still thought I was straight, I was still Christian, I still had yet to take a gender studies course), well - for starters, I was so into the derena endgame, and chair...I wasn’t too invested, but like, it’s not like I wasn’t positive towards it. And I think a lot of that was due to these 00’s media ideas of, what’s the right word...sexual fidelity? And the belief that everyone has One Person, and if they’re ever not with that One Person then those other relationships are fake and false. And derena and chair in the show both followed and affirmed that kind of viewpoint by ending up together.

I should say here that I am not equivocating the relationship dynamics of these separate ships, I’m lumping them together to make a point, but derena =/= chair in my interpretation of the show and of the characters.

Now, I am older and hopefully a little bit wiser, and I believe that romantic love isn’t necessarily destined, but it’s something that’s built, that grows, and a person’s sexual history is not a reflection of their goodness, and that love can change and evolve and it doesn’t have to be romantic or stay romantic to be meaningful. So, when I rewatched the show in my mid-20s, dair was the ship that resonated with me the most. And it still does, which is why I’m here, writin’ fic, and answerin’ tumblr asks from you lovely people.

Also on my rewatch, I read that dan & serena grew out of each other, which is sad, but it happens, and that’s okay. And with chair, all those red flags that 00’s teen soaps gloss over (because they do them for nothing but the Drama, the lasting implications don’t matter, it’s about taking the stakes of the moment as high as possible) I really saw them, and they alarmed me in a way that didn’t alarm over-romanticizing 18-year-old me. That being said, I’m very happy in my little corner of the fandom sandbox, and I’m not looking to argue the virtues of some ships over others or change hearts and minds. I just want to write my silly little stories and maybe have my friends read them :)

I think it’s also important to mention that since GG stopped airing we’ve entered a new wave of feminism, and the MeToo movement arose, and as people of my generation have grown up, we are engaging with the media we grew up in with our evolved/evolving viewpoints, and I think that’s why there appears to be such a change within the fandom. Plus, in the grand vast scheme of history, sex positivity and gender empowerment are SUCH recent things, and in the past ten years, they’ve progressed lightning-fast. Like, remember when I said I began college and I still thought I was straight? Gay marriage was not legal where I was from then. Like, I remember the day Obergefell v. Hodges was decided, and that win was not a guaranteed one. (I was actually studying abroad in Rome at the time, so we American students were running through Italy being like “gay marriage!!!” while the Italians just watched us like “????????”)

You say you’ve always been a dair shipper, and that’s great for you! But I wasn’t. And for me, I am constantly learning and unlearning and relearning, and media (even off the rails CW teen dramas like Gossip Girl) is one of my ways of doing so. Though I will put on my Old Lady Librarian Liz hat for a second and say: if you’re still in school/university, and have the opportunity to take a gender studies course (outside the realm of the internet, bc tumblr is not the be all end all of education), I highly recommend it. I’m still no expert, and I can’t throw any verbatim Judith Butler at you, but engaging with those ideas and the history of gender studies academically gave me a framework for thinking critically that I’ve taken with me. And nothing teaches you humility like wading through Butler jargon.

Thank you so much for this ask, this really got me to think and reminisce and I enjoyed it!

[dreamylyfe-x]

Woah boy here we go ok. I need to tell you about my feelings for Bound. Which I have been meaning to do for literal weeks, but I read it so quickly the first time I wanted to give myself a slower second read through in the hopes that it would help me form some manner of coherent thoughts to offer you about why it is so brilliant.

I regret however that that strategy does not seem to have worked. I started a little notes doc with thoughts for each chapter and it began with full sentences but then as I went on and got more pulled into just reading the story the sentences turned into mere collections of words and then single word exclamations. The last note I have is jaaaaamiiiiiiieeeeeee!!!! And after that I gave up the pretense of taking notes at all and just let myself devour.

I think it is perfect?? Perhaps it is a perfect piece of writing???

From the outset, the very beginning of the prologue it is so visceral. Your descriptions of feelings are so physical, that the whole time one of them is in pain, I also feel that I am in pain. And so I feel like I have spent quite a lot of the story in pain, but the phenomenon of that makes me feel that I am so closely connected to both Ian and Mickey and I love it. And likewise when they are feeling joy or desire or relief. God the relief! It starts in that first reunion they have at the Kash and Grab after the gun incident, every second of that is filled with this wonderful release of physical tension, and then it simply escalates from there. I can't begin to describe how effectively you manage to convey the experience of having an emotion as part of your physical body, and how that is heightened by the soul bond aspect of the whole thing. Incredible.

What else? The world building! Heavens. I have read not that many soulmate AUs, but in terms of creating and explaining the rules of this adjacent universe where soulmates exist and endowing it with history and prejudice and letting that all just bleed into and across the story, you have eclipsed every single one. I totally buy into this parallel history and the nuances of opinions and variety of bond experiences and antiquated terms for gay bonds, it's all a very rich tapestry and I think you've done an excellent job of weaving it.

I am so here for a story that follows the canon without exactly recreating it. There are so many moments where you can pick out specifics from the show that are reflected or echoed, but are in a different context or setting, and yet manage to create that same feeling. And it's great because it's like a little easter egg, a little hit of recognition, but also is original in its form and serves its own purpose within your story. It connects us to Shameless without binding us into it and it is very deft and I enjoy it immensely.

We also have to talk about characterisation. Which. I actually don't know if I can talk about at all eloquently but you have to know that I am enamored with it. Ian and Mickey, but equally MANDY my beloved, who is sharp and brutal but also caring and so willing to help. I really like Ryan, I feel like you totally have that guy's voice, even though we knew him for only a few short moments, and I like that you made him not at all a predator. These kids need some adult advice once in a while! Which leads me onto Veronica. Best Aunty I love her, she is perfect.

But mostly I am just in awe of how you have written these versions of Ian and Mickey who feel so true to who I know them to be. I appreciate so much this Mickey who is accepting of his feelings for and connection to Ian from so early on, but that you haven't transformed him into someone who is really very soft in expressing those things. He is still motivated by fear and that fear makes him hard-edged, even when his insides are goo. And I love your Ian, who is sunshine itself, but also so much more alone than he ever is in the early seasons of the show because he isn't able to be out even to Lip really. His relationship with Monica is so heartbreaking and his descent into his loneliness and into resentment and feeling like Mickey doesn't care, all of it feels like something I could have been watching on the show.

That thing that Shameless does where they give you a little moment of pure wonder, and then follow it up by socking you in the mouth, it's that. You've captured that.

I swear there is so much more I could say but I feel that would be maybe concerning and you might take out a restraining order. But honestly I have been thinking about how to write this more succinctly for days and I couldn't come up with a way that could accurately convey how excellent I think this fic is in less words than I have used.

In short though, I love your writing and this work specifically and am very invested in reading the next chapter and all of the chapters after that.

🖤 Howl x

Hello! I'm slow! I'm sorry about that!

I'm also blown away. This whole thing is amazing and makes me grin like an unhinged person. But I sometimes am like "should I reply privately or is that rude?" -- I think I landed on that it's rude (so apologies to people I've done that to) and I apologize for my neuroses.

So first of all: super glad you like Bound. Super glad you have feelings about it! Totally love that you tried to make notes -- it's truly amazing that you'd make that kind of effort over it. Much love. 💕

Bound started life as a one-shot so sometimes I’m momentarily surprised when people talk about how the story starts in season one. I’m glad you enjoy the relief because I feel like it’s the emotion I write with them the most and a lot of times I’m like “I hope this doesn’t feel repetitive…” (though. Not a problem in recent chapters I guess). But. A bond under threat has a euphoric quality when they get to be together.

Also, because it was a one shot I didn’t expect to have to do much world-building, but that’s maybe one of the things I have the most fun with. Like tonight I was doing the dishes and starting wondering about how, exactly, things work when you bond with a psychopath. These are the things that haunt me.

I like the idea of the socio-economic impact of soulmates, so I very much want the other characters to continue their canon journeys. It’s maybe a little pessimistic but I see enough situations where we decide something that occurs naturally is wrong and must be fixed for me to think that people would accept the actual rules that seem to exist around soulmates without wanting to shape them into something else.

So happy you like the characterization! I’d never written Mandy before the one-shot but I immediately loved her. And I love wiring so many of the characters. Iggy. Fiona. DEFINITELY V. So glad you enjoy Mickey and Ian, too. I don’t think absolute security in a relationship is entirely possible for Mickey — but also, even knowing that he’s bound and that Ian loves him, it can still be really uncomfortable for him to be open about everything that means to him. I also, since I will probably never write a 3x12-4x07 fill-in fic I really wanted to get into Ian and Monica. That relationship is so interesting to me.

I don’t know who these people are who look askance at people taking the time to tell them they really like their work ARE, but I assure you I am not among their number. Truly so grateful for this. Thank you for your time, your attention and your really kind and thoughtful words. It truly means so much to me.

[callmefitz]

I waited so long to send you this ask because my data wasn't working.

I love your Luca fic. "I wrote this at 2:00 AM so this isn't Shakespeare"– Well yeah, but you don't need to downplay it because, trust me, it's great. You wrote Alberto and Massimo so perfectly in character, and I got so many feelings from it, especially when Alberto was thinking about Luca– how phone calls and letters weren't the same, how he could tell his mood from his handwriting, how he missed the particular way he talked, the gestures he made, his touch, how much he was anticipating his arrival. OH MY GOD– that feeling hits close to home.

And Massimo– this man– He's such a good father and he's so supportive of Alberto. It's wholesome as fuck. I love the way you described his personality too. "A man of few words" YES. Accurate. It's obvious he can tell when Alberto's trying to play it cool. The kid legit burns himself while trying to act calm and he's just *Sigh.* "Here's a towel." It's great.

Lastly, I can only imagine what Giulia has been snitching to her dad. "Pappa, you should've seen the way Luca and Alberto were acting today! They kept giggling and nudging each other. I know what's going on. I see it."

Your short little fic made this dumb enby boy want to cry. You're such a great writer and I want to check out more of your work. :'D

Dhsusjhsiaiajsbdiwbd I’m so glad you liked it!!! I’ve had so many like cute slice of life scenarios floating in my head since I watched it and I’ve been wanting to write this scene really bad!!! I tried really hard to have it close to character while still being set in the future and I’m happy you picked up on little characterizations like Alberto analyzing Luca’s handwriting and movements and Massimo giving him the cool rag (I used to burn my fingers a lot making cookies when I was a kid and my mom would always wrap a cold rag on it to make it feel better. I feel like Massimo would know that trick too).

And you know Massimo would get a ton of phone calls from Giulia like “dad help my two best friends are in love and they both keep telling me about it what do I doooo”. Also Massimo trying to awkwardly tell Alberto he approves of Luca is my favorite part like, hm how do I tell my son I think Luca is good for him? He knows fish? Yes!!! That’s very respectable! All the cool kids know fish.

In short thank you so much for appreciating my work!! I want to write more for Luca and have a multi chapter fic rolling around in the corners of my notes app but I’m not sure if I have the willpower to finish it. I’ll definitely posts some snippets from it here and there though. I really appreciate the compliment and I’m glad you liked it!!!!!

[stitch1830]

Recently you answered a question about then name twinkle toes and I really enjoyed. Your taang-family thoughts are very cute and accurate. what you think about the LOK flashback when Toph calls aang twinkle toes and he gets upset. I don’t think it’s accurate what so ever or true to his character. How does adult Aang act when Toph or the kids call him twinkle toes in a professional setting in YOUR taang-headcannon.

Hi Anon, thank you for the ask! Glad you enjoyed some of the other asks I've answered (and that you think my thoughts are cute and accurate?? That's all I need to hear to be content with life lol). I've certainly enjoyed answering every question! :)

You make a great point about Aang's reaction in the LOK Flashback. It's only a few moments, but I agree, it seems pretty out of character. Even in stressful situations, Aang always seemed to keep an upbeat attitude (something that comes to mind is when Aang bows and gushes about Fire Lord Zuko to his face and saying how he missed him after it had only been a week. And I think the matter at hand was pretty serious... not too sure though). I don't see why he wouldn't be super happy and excited to see Toph even though they see each other all the time. Like, she'd be like "What are you doing here?"//"Toph! There you are. I want to help! Sounds like you've got a doozy of a case..." yada yada yada.

And then on top of that, he's over here upset about the coveted nickname! No way would he be complaining about his nickname. First off, it's Toph, he's not gonna win that battle. He knows that, and that's definitely not the first time she's called him Twinkletoes at work, ya know? It's a daily occurrence, 100%.

I'm right there with you, Anon. Silly characterization in that minute flashback LOL.

In my Taang headcanon, if he hears his actual name, he assumes it's not Toph calling for him, or if she does say his name, then it either means he's in trouble, something's wrong, or she's trying to get his attention. That kind of means he only answers to Twinkletoes at work and at home. No one except his family (maybe some close friends...) are allowed to call him that, if anyone tries to say 'Twinkle,' Toph will bury their feet into the ground or something.

But yeah, Aang is perfectly fine with Toph and his kids calling him Twinkletoes in professional settings (the kids probably wouldn't call him that, but maybe once or twice they slip), and if Toph calls him Aang, something is amiss because "Toph! What's wrong? Why did you call me by my name? Are we being ambushed?" He kind of spirals and she regrets trying to be formal after one instance lol.

Okay, I think I rambled on long enough about the ever-so-lovely nickname Twinkletoes haha. Thank you again for the ask, Anon! Feel free to send more if you have any. Hope you have a great day! :)

[otome-silvynne]

Thoughts on Saeran's After End

Okay I think I've finally got my thoughts together enough to write this lol. I will try to keep it as organised as possible!

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SAERAN'S AE

TL;DR - I loved the amount of work put into this AE. The CGs and new sprites were absolutely stunning (not the hands) but I wasn't a huge fan of some of the writing choices.

Okay let's start this mess of a post with what I liked about the AE!

The new CGs, sprites, and emojis. I loved every single (positive) CG even though the art style changed a lot. Some of them were so cute I wanted to cry and Saeran's new sprites fit him really well I think. Though the crying one made my heart hurt 🥺

The length. Cheritz went above and beyond when it came to the length of the AE. I was really expecting it to be episodic like V's but the fact that it's a mini route was a cool surprise!

Calls/texts. The Cheritz team added a tonne of extra calls for this AE and though I've only seen the ones my friends have shared, there are some super cool ones that add interesting perspectives on the plot.

Good End/Normal End. I have some issues with the plot which I'll get to in the next section, but I really really loved the good end and normal end for the AE. They were both so heart-warming but I do think that a combination of both would have been the best ending.

Jumin Han. This poor poor man went through so much during this AE but holy crap did it make me love him even more. He really had some amazing character development and even though he was in a crisis, he still did everything in his power to help Saeran and MC and I think it really showed just how deep his loyalty goes. I love him.

Okay so this is where I get kind of ranty. Apologies in advance.

I find the plot of this AE to be unideal in... many ways. Though it was satisfying to finally have it after waiting so long I really wish they had done some things different, so let's get into it.

V. My #1 issue with the writing is what they did to Jihyun's characterization. It just really was not fair in the slightest and in my opinion it wasn't entirely accurate to him. (Feel free to call me out for being biased, I have role-played as this man for years now.) V and Saeran are actually tied as my favourite characters so as you could guess the prologue for this hurt me so so so bad. V never seemed like the type of man to turn on his friends like that. Not even for Rika or his obsession with her - he has always made shitty decisions or has been mysterious, but he would never betray them like that and he was never straight up evil like he sometimes seems to be in this. That man was not Jihyun to me - it was like he was a stranger.

Guilt tripping. There are multiple moments in the AE where they mention that "maybe V wouldn't have turned out that way if he met someone like MC" and it's kind of bullshit. It feels like they're blaming the player for choosing Saeran over Jihyun when they really shouldn't be - both are amazing characters and there is no reason the AE should have that kind of undertone at all. I might make another post about V if anyone wants to hear my opinion in more depth lol.

Forgiveness/Healing. Cheritz hasn't always been the best at portraying trauma and we know this but I felt like I should mention it anyway. This AE takes place two weeks after the end of Saeran's route. Keeping this in mind, every single interaction he has with Rika in the AE is just... unimaginable. For years he was brainwashed and manipulated by that woman and yet it seems like he feels nothing when he sees her again even though she has done unspeakable things to him. Realistically he would have felt fear or hatred or anything at all. I understand they said he healed a lot but completely getting over it? In two weeks?? I don't think so man.

PM/The agency. I feel like the focus should have been on them a bit more during the whole thing. A lot of the focus of the writing was on Rika and V when they were the least of the RFA's problems - they were dangerous and outright insane, but they wouldn't have killed anyone like the other antagonists.

Pain. Out of every single piece of media I've ever consumed - game or otherwise - this is the only thing that ever gave me physical chest pain from how upsetting it was. It made me so anxious I could not sleep at times and generally stressed me out lol. Some would probably see this as good writing or something impressive but it just felt awful for me because of how long we waited for this to come out. I was looking forward to seeing Saeyoung's rescue and everyone living happily (which is sort of the point of an AE, right?) but there was just so much heartache in between that it almost didn't feel worth it when I finally did get to the end.

BR End. I'm sure you all know the one lol cough collar cough cough and lord why on Earth is it so incredibly easy to get by accident? I got 100% on all three days when I played and still got it anyway - it sucks man. I had to start over and go through all of the stress mentioned above again and it wore me down. That being said, I do like how you're free (and expected) to be suspicious of Rika and V instead of forgiving them for literally drugging the entire RFA and making deals with criminals. Thanks man. Wish we didn't have to see them and the PM forgiven in the end anyway though :)

Okay /rant lmao. Obviously this is all a shortened version of my thoughts and it's still pretty long but I'm glad I could at least express this much. I have a lot of mixed feelings about this and I'd be glad to discuss more with other fans through DM or something and see other opinions. If you're interested you could message me here or @silvynne and if you read this far you are probably insane but also awesome so thank you.

[cno-inbminor]

hi!! oh my gosh.. so i just finished iterum vivere and.. honestly i had to take a moment after to just pause and take it all in because.. it was just so much? i don't usually send asks in because i'm not good at articulating my emotions and putting my thoughts into words but i thought to *not* leave an ask for this would just be criminal. this might be a bit long and i'm reallt sorry for that but.. wow you are SUCH an amazing author- i'm surprised your piece didn't have more than a thousand notes. it was 12k words but all of it flowed so nicely that i didn't even realize i was almost done until i paused to think. ive heard the idea thrown around a lot on tumblr but the way you put it into words and a scenario.. it's just crazy??? the way you characterized all the characters was amazing- i think you really captured their core. i could really imagine them saying and doing these things- especially childe. the way you explained his emotions and thoughts made me (a person who has never been in love) feel like i was falling for someone alongside childe. and the way you wrote the reader's reactions and how conflicted they were.. it just fit? like their reaction felt like i was peering into an actual, real life person's thoughts and i just think you being able to capture that is incredible. the tension between the two when reader regains their memories too!! i really love all the little events in it, like when reader was walking with teucer and childe seeing them together- it's such a tiny thing but i think it enhanced the reading experience so much more. ALL IN ALL I THINK THIS HAS GOTTEN TOO LONG AND I HOPE ITS NOT CUT OUT SO ILL END IT HERE!! i admire you so much for that fic.. the beginning to the end was perfect in every way- i'm literally in love with this fic and just want you to know that you are so so so talented. i hope you didn't mind how long this was <3

so i was at a friend's when i got this and read it and honestly, i almost cried. i know i've been saying that a lot and i am a bit of an easy crier but seriously, like this entire thing -- just, thank you for even taking the time to write this up, and i DEFINITELY don't mind how long this message is

first of all, thank you SO much!! i'm always so happy to hear that the emotions and dialogue i write in a specific story seem realistic or fitting to a character ((a lot of this is due to bad past history with fanfiction in general))! so reading that you thought it was accurate really gets me 🥺

i appreciate tiny details a lot in fanfiction that i read, so it's another thing i try to incorporate in my own writing, and i'm glad that others can see that too!! thank you so much for reading this and giving it your time and attention, i appreciate it so much <3

[smolbeandrabbles]

Halfway Home - Ralph Anderson x Shifter!Reader (The Outsider)

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: I think this gif set really cemented this fic as something I was gonna do.  This one is the closest thing I will write to Show!Canon, although I’ve borrowed a couple of Shifter ‘Tells’ from the book.

I thought this was going to be really short, but in the end I’m glad I wrote it like this, instead of the way I had planned And I really really hope you all enjoy it 💙💜

Also the lyrics to this song are PERFECT Halfway Home - Carly Pearce

Disclaimer: Characters & Plot are Stephen King’s (or... Richard Price’s characterization...) / Lyrics not mine (and lyrical liberties taken) / gifs not mine - credit as appropriate. / Direct quotes used from Episode 10 - so, spoilers ahead!

Premise: This was never a problem in a million years you’d expect to have to face. And in all the lifetimes you’d lived you never had faced it. But now the Frankie Peterson case is over Ralph is aware your species exists, and that discovery may well rip you both apart...

Words: 8729

Warnings: Swearing / The Outsider show spoilers ⚠ Angst/Hurt Caution Warning ⚠  

____________

Blame it on me, I'm an actor, I'm a fake Blame it on me, I broke your heart but by mistake Call it what you wanna, good intentions or denial But if I'm bein' honest, I've been lyin' for a while Halfway right doesn't make it right Halfway wrong is still wrong Half of me is with you here tonight And half of me is long gone But halfway to Heaven isn't Heaven And halfway home just ain't home

And I put it off, I was selfish, I was scared I put it off and I know it isn't fair You don’t want to stay, but you don’t want to say goodbye Let's call it what it is and we'll get out of this alive And I'm sorry If I hang onto you, I'll drown I'm so sorry If I don't let go, I'm goin' down Halfway right doesn't make it right Halfway wrong is still wrong Half of me didn't see it comin' Half of me knew it all along... ---

[Holly] “Are there more of you?”

[The Outsider] “Why? Have you seen someone like me before? Are there others? Cause there have been times when I sensed there could be more...” ***

You stood in the sliding glass doorway, looking out over the back yard, everything about your senses was heightened - it was like you could even hear the grass move. You knew there were others out there - heck, you were old enough to have walked amongst your own kind before you became an ancient relic left to history and ghost stories. A time when you were gods amongst men, until men rose up.

But here? In Cherokee City, Georgia? It didn’t make a lot of sense to you. Not for there to be another. You knew why you were here. Tired of running, tired of tracking, tired of being everything your species condemned you to be - you wished only for a quiet, peaceful existence. And you had one now; Detective Ralph Anderson saw to that in every way he could. And to him you were a normal human being, that lived their life out just as accordingly. All your weird little ticks were exactly that... because every human had exactly the same – a long list of ticks and traits that made them the person they were.  

The problem was this shapeshifter wasn’t doing what you were doing. You’d sensed it before the Frankie Peterson murder, but as soon as Ralph came home from that case you knew something was wrong. Something was different this time. And he explained in lengthy detail the crime scene, and the DNA. That alerted you. No criminal left their DNA just lying around, but you could be so careless. Because everyone would suspect the person you had shifted into, not you. You could just as quick become someone else and be well on your way... to do exactly the same somewhere else. So long as everything added up. So long as the person who you had replicated got caught and the evidence was water tight.... and they had no alibi.  

Well that was easy once, before DNA testing came into play. And then it took humans a little while to get that up to scratch, and DNA was your whole game. Witness accounts could be sketchy, but as long as your kind could produce enough, and better, witness accounts to the contrary you could get away with it. Their word against... well, something you’d fabricated.  

The problem was, the victims of this was both a child and a man, named Terry Maitland, who didn’t deserve what had happened. Of course, really no one deserved it - but a man who was a teacher and had seeming never done anything bad in his life was not a man that deserved this. And to you, the child was unforgivable, it wasn’t uncommon amongst your kind to eat people – even now – but children? That was wicked and cruel – which may have explained the malice in the air. Not just the feel of it, but the feeling it was stirring up within the town. Drunk on pain and suffering. That made you hold on to Ralph and his love a little tighter – because an emotion like that was far more sustainable. And you weren’t about to let yourself go down the same path that this one clearly had.

But you were selfish and worried, and all you wanted was for this to go away, be buried, and you could go on living your quiet little life. If Terry went to prison, and your counterpart moved on, it would just be something unforgivably terrible that happened here. Even when you knew the repercussions of that...  but you didn’t care so much about that so long as your identity was hidden.  

Ralph had every single confidence that they both had the guy, and that the evidence was so good that Terry was going away whether he denied it or not. And Ralph’s confidence bled into you, which was a bad thing, of course and you let yourself get comfortable and cocky about it. Sure, you could absolutely tell him - and that made your conscience weigh heavily on you - but he’d say you were insane... You could show him, but how would that hold up in court? And what would it do to you, and the life you had worked so hard to build here.

Then it all hit you; because Terry Maitland was at a conference in Cap City, and he was on video tape. That wasn’t something that even the best evidence could save a shapeshifter from. How did you combat that? Stupid and careless - that’s what your counterpart was. And a child, to get so confident as to display itself so openly. You did, but that had taken many years of good practice, and you didn’t go around killing and eating children.

The other problem was it didn’t go away. And as the Peterson family fell one by one, and so did Terry at his arraignment, it stuck around.  New to the game, maybe? But if it couldn’t sense you then it was young, and if it could but was looking to encroach on your territory, then it had another thing coming. The crude monster drawings you’d seen of your race weren’t far off an accurate depiction of your true form. You hadn’t had use for claws and needle like teeth in a long time - but you would surely use them if you had to. And to protect everything you knew, and everyone you loved here? Without question.

 ***

 But just as suddenly it was gone. The tension that loomed over you dissipated. The case however, did not. And before you knew it Private Investigator Holly Gibney was in town. You had an uneasy feeling about this, and when Ralph asked if you were going to accompany him to the meeting you flat out refused. You didn’t know what she knew, what if she took one look at you and shattered your world into pieces? You couldn’t risk it. And perhaps it was better you didn’t go, because when he got home, Holly in tow, Ralph was beside himself.

When you’d gotten him to quiet down about what a waste of time it was - and stop being so rude, with her in the house - you asked him what was up. When Ralph rolled his eyes and refused to do anything but mute it, you gently coaxed it out of Holly yourself. And although a lot of her ideas were misconceptions, she had it right. “El Cuco”: a mishmash manifestation of stories and rumours carried on for centuries about your species. Not all shapeshifters were the same, and this new one was not the same strain as you. But close enough. You didn’t think telling Holly that you believed her held too much consequence aside from trying to get Ralph on side and to believe something. Even when he still scoffed and called you crazy too. You had some effect though, because lying together that night, with the quiet of the darkness that surrounded you – Ralph asked if you really did believe her – you could only answer that you really did, and it took him a little longer to dismiss it with a soft hmph!  

But then they all went out to Tennessee and you were left behind. And you didn’t see what Ralph saw, or hear what he heard... or say what he said. And he came back to you with far more in his head than he’d ever wanted. And whenever you asked him about it he simply told you you wouldn’t believe him, and Holly gave you a similar story. Even when you tried the prompt of so it’s all true-!? Ralph clearly wanted to forget something he probably never could, and certainly didn’t want to talk about it. Holly left soon afterwards – with Ralph’s gentle smile and wish to work together again, sometime. Though of course he hoped on something less Supernatural. That evening you sat together on the couch in silence – your head resting on his chest. Maybe it was all over now? Terry Maitland would get completely pardoned in Hayes’ press conference, and you very much doubted that the other shifter got out of the situation alive. Though you were also aware there were many others that didn’t make it out of there also. Ralph had told you that much, but didn’t elaborate on anything else. And you’d just as soon help him forget, it to blow over, and you and he to go back to your quiet small city life. *** It didn’t. Because Ralph couldn’t get it off his mind. Sure he didn’t want to talk about it actively. He could barely wrap his head around it – around what he’d witnessed, around the idea that there were things out there beyond the explanation of science.  Of everything he’d ever known. He might have asked Holly out of curiosity what else was out there, and watched her shrug with a smile… but did he want to find out? Did he even want to entertain the idea that this was anything other than a nightmare? Of course he didn’t. But part of him realised he had to. Having been cleared to go back to work Ralph was at least glad of something to put his mind to. But he was also worried – and dare he say it even scared? What if the things out there were perpetually WORSE than what he’d been through. He could handle himself, always had. But what if those things came for you? Ralph couldn’t handle the notion of that, but what if it happened? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you – whether you be the one that was transformed into or… no, he couldn’t bare to even think of you as the body. He was glad you didn’t have children, together or your own – dare he even say relieved that you couldn’t have them. Because that was just another thing to worry about – and those were mounting on Ralph pretty quickly. And now he watched you so closely; he knew it might end eventually but how couldn’t he get paranoid? Scratches always came with questions, and you always gave him that little look of annoyance - Ralph, I just scratched myself. If someone did it to me after what Holly said, I’d come to you – you KNOW that! - and he also just as closely monitored the back of your neck. But you knew exactly why – and you let him do what he needed to do to get over this, because you knew you couldn’t become a victim of your own species. Not in the ways he was thinking anyway. The problem was everything coincided at just the wrong time. The shifter that Ralph had dealt with was clearly a great deal younger than you. A strain that shifted by shedding skin like a reptile, should have been easy and over in a few minutes for one as old as you. Like taking off a jacket and leaving it on the bleachers on a Friday night. But it took this one a month or so to change from one person to another, during which the composition of one victim broke down as he prepared to shed. Something very similar happened to you. A human form was not your true form – however the human form you chose was not someone whose DNA you had acquired. Each one of you could present human as necessary to blend in – but you weren’t meant to sustain it for more than a few months at a time. And, like he had, you would break down. It’d last for nearly 3 days total, but you would feel extremely uncomfortable in your own skin until your body was ready to regenerate itself. Technically you could shift at any point, but it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do under the watchful eyes – and even more so now – of a Cherokee City detective who was suddenly aware of the existence of your kind. It'd take an hour of quietly sitting alone in the midst of the woods with no one around, and then you could go back to being you again, but it was a long hour. And you made the mistake of choosing the park where the Peterson murder had happened. But it was oddly cathartic to sit in the middle of all that and contemplate. To cry, and feel that sorrow like a strange shot of adrenaline; to beg for the forgiveness of your kind for doing something so goddamn awful. And one lunchbreak later you’d step out of the trees and brush yourself down, shiny and new, and no one would know any different. It took about a day to really set back again, but even the most observant of humans wouldn’t be observant enough to know that your face probably looked a little off – it would be something so insignificant they couldn’t place.

You’d probably never been more wrong about anything in your life. You’d been with the same man for four years; and he was a detective. He’d never noticed anything before, but he’d never seen one of you before Tennessee. And the one he had seen, had made many mistakes. *** For four days Ralph Anderson had witnessed things in you he wanted to believe might have been figments of his imagination. Like his paranoia was making him see these things and they were tricks of the light. He thought he might be able to deal with it once or twice and write it off, but when the fourth day came and it was still happening, his suspicions had never been more heightened. Your eyes were the one thing you couldn’t control. You didn’t leave that odd gooey residue because you didn’t shift the same way he had – yours was more of a ‘shimmer’ from one person to the next and that meant you didn’t really leave much trace. Your skin might have felt odd, but that was only to you – and you could shake off feeling uncomfortable as anything: that time of the month… or just an uneasiness about the world right now (and he’d understand that with the Terry Maitland case still fresh!). But your eyes in light – that was a hard one; they flickered usually when you got emotional but you could control that. An odd silver sheen that would come and go and could be down to any number of tricks, including ones people’s brains played on themselves, but that wasn’t what this was. Ralph had seen that shine before. And it was too much of a strange coincidence for it to mean anything else. That shine wasn’t a reflection in your eyes, but something that seemed to come from within them. And he’d seen that in ‘Claudes’ eyes in the cave. And now in you for four consecutive days. Straws for eyes. Too many people had given that description, every nightmare Maitland’s daughter had had mentioned that. And it was odd to see in that cave – but it was horrific to see in you. It came and went but it was there. And every fibre in Ralph’s being tried to deny that. Surely you weren’t one of those things? How could that be – he had to be seeing things, he just had to be. He couldn’t accept anything else but that – not you, anything or anyone but you. He’d been with you for four years, he KNEW you. And he loved you. And Ralph didn’t know which was worse. He couldn’t even believe that lying in bed with you now, watching the way you breathed, he could even contemplate that thought. You’d looked like this since he met you – the other shifter didn’t last more than a few weeks, and then took nearly a month to become something else, but you were here. Like this. But was this you-!? Was this a victim of yours? Why the hell was Ralph talking so crazy to himself!? He had to be seeing things; but no matter how many times he told himself that, Ralph Anderson also couldn’t bring himself to believe it to be true. It was like the evidence was staring him in the face and he just didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t want to believe it with Terry either – and that was just as concrete. And he’d been wrong there, he could be wrong here. But that was almost worse. Ralph bit his lip, and was even more horrified to find that the usual gap he maintained with you – of about two inches, close enough to reach out and hold you, to be protective – had now subconsciously widened; he couldn’t have been further across the bed from you if he’d tried. And he wasn’t sure he even wanted to fall asleep next to you – but hell he had done for nearly your whole relationship. He would have to get to the bottom of this and soon… at least he knew that much. And racing around his head were the same questions; What the hell are you? Is that even what you really look like? Is that even your real name? Who ARE you? You had already left for work before he awoke, and you left a sweet little note wishing him a nice day. But it just left him empty. Ralph placed it back on the counter and made himself a coffee. He had to know – but he couldn’t just go rushing into a confrontation with you without being sure. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. And he didn’t know exactly what you were yet, his experience consisted of one shapeshifting entity; you might have been one but you weren’t necessarily the same kind. But he’d killed one of you before – would he hesitate to do the same again? Ralph cursed himself for even thinking that. He could be so wrong about this – but had the uneasy feeling that he wasn’t. *** This continued back and forth for a few days; Ralph Anderson was in denial. And although you could sense something was wrong, he’d been acting odd since he got back from Tennessee and you didn’t blame him for it. You were more inclined to think that was just going to continue. And you would allow him to adjust back to normal at his own pace. If he ever really got back to that – if normal was something Ralph could rebuild for himself after the Frankie Peterson case. You knew life wasn’t yet as it had been before, but you were confident it was going that way. And your gentle sunny disposition wasn’t one you were about to let get dampened. In fact, you were sure Ralph needed it right now. You hummed along to your music as you made yourself breakfast, took a shower and got ready for work, and were still doing so as you reached the front door. Your partner was standing in the kitchen, staring out across the front lawn as you passed him, you paused and turned back. Something was troubling him; “Ralph?” He continued to stare forward. “Ralph? Babe? Ralph!? Sweetheart-!” It took you a little while to rouse him from his thoughts. “Huh-? Oh! I’m sorry.” You titled your head; “You okay, babe?” “…Yeah…” His eyes seemed to look everywhere but your face, “I’m fine, why.” “…You just… seem a little distant lately…” You took a few slow strides towards him, “Are you sure?” “Yeah, I’ll be okay.” “Okay…” You smiled gently, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” He tried not to obviously wince at the irony, “Of course I do.” “Alright, well, I’m off-! And… I’ll see you later.” “Sure. Have a good day.” You waited, thinking perhaps he would offer you a goodbye kiss, but he didn’t. Something was up. “…And you.” You tried not to sound dejected, and knew you’d clearly failed. “Y/N!” He caught your arm, pulling you back towards him – eyes looking straight into yours and hoping against hope that the next three words out of his mouth sounded genuine right now; “I love you.” Though he’d never lied more. You didn’t see through him, not even slightly. In fact your only thought was that you knew he did. “I love you too.” He let you go, smile still on your face and then watched you turn with a renewed spring in your step and exit the house. As soon as he heard the door slam closed Ralph lifted his hands to his face. He’d used exactly the same trick on you that the other shifter had used to collect everyone else’s DNA – with that yank back on your arm as an excuse. It was just a scratch sure, but it was so much more significant than that. Underneath his thumbnail was just a trace of blood. But it wasn’t red, like his was. It looked a lot more like he’d contemplated a sentence too long and pen ink had leaked, stubbornly burying itself under his nails. Blue-black. He’d seen quite enough of that coming out of the hand he’d stabbed to pin ‘Claude’ down. “Oh. Fuck!” *** Ralph had a hard time of it at work – and even more so when those too inquisitive wondered why he was bringing up the files for Frankie Peterson. He would simply answer that he just wanted to check on a few things, only to have them say ‘Why!? It’s closed!’ Because she’s a monster – was his only thought, and yet he couldn’t vocalise it - I fell in love with a monster.  And he stared hard at those images until his vision blurred, not from tiredness – not because his brain had enough and needed to zone, but hot, angry tears. All this time he’d been with something capable of this – how the hell did he even know that you hadn’t done this? He didn’t know what you were doing when you weren’t together – and now Ralph was beginning to think that he didn’t know you at all. Why was this happening to him? Why again? Why in such a short space of time? Because he’d made a mistake with Terry? Now the Universe was just hell bent on destroying everything… You by comparison had a good day at work with your friends and barely noticed anything, not even Ralph’s little nick of your wrist. Although, when a colleague pointed it out you simply laughed – you had a bad habit of being clumsy sometimes and scratches appeared out of nowhere, even when you were careful. And of course, you had to be careful, the only time you bled the same colour as a human was when you shifted into one – and it was probably your one tell. Scratches happened, anything deeper than that and you’d be in trouble. Up until now you’d managed to avoid anything so serious ever happening. When you returned home Ralph was still pondering over notes, not so obvious as to be Frankie’s, and was so out of his head that it was difficult to get a read on him. Your kiss on his cheek did cause him to flinch; “OH! God-!” He placed his hand over his heart, adrenaline immediately spiking “Shit – I’m sorry, I’m just…” “It’s okay-!” Although your heart was racing equally fast, “You’re working, I’m sorry…” “No it’s…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, and his smile was restrained, but to you, at least he was smiling. You backed off; “I’ll make dinner-! Alright?” “Sure…” You beamed, and his eyes followed your walk away before he returned to his notes. Did he fear for his own safety? Truly he wasn’t sure – but how many times had you linked your hands behind his neck, or rubbed his shoulders after a hard day or even just placed a gentle kiss there. He shuddered slightly as he thought about Jack Hoskins; could you do that to him? Right now, Ralph hated that he had to assume the worst. Right now, you were none the wiser. *** It was approaching midnight and Ralph had made sure you were once again safely in bed. If there was something else he’d payed great attention to with Holly Gibney, it was how to check for traces of that ‘El Cuco’ entity. Ralph’s best guess was that if you truly were one of those things, you would leave that same trace everywhere that he had. Leave your fingerprints the same... He stood alone with his flashlight in the middle of the living room – fingertips hovering over the light switch. Could he bear to know the answer? Didn’t he already know. Ralph took a deep breath, and bit his lip – closing his eyes, he flicked the switch. It took him far too long to reopen them – and when he did, he ran cold from head to feet. It was everywhere. He was barely exaggerating to say there was more white than blue. He suddenly felt weak, stumbling backwards Ralph had a hard time trying to catch himself against the wall. His breathing was hard and ragged and he felt sick. He knew he probably would be sick. The house was dark so now the only light being thrown up was this, from you. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry – sweeping the light to the stairwell, he followed it. Trying to calm himself down – but how could he? Everywhere he turned his beam that you had touched, or brushed against, was this substance. It caught brightest in the bathroom and he had to stop. In some places the white was faded - even if it completely covered a surface it was faint - But not here. Ralph approached cautiously. Aside from your bedroom he supposed this would be the place you’d spend the most time without clothes – only here water ran down your body in droplets and cascaded to the ground. The shower looked like someone had thrown a pot of white paint over it and the floor wasn’t much better – and even though it was white, it reminded Ralph too much of blood spatter. He was afraid, and repulsed, and hurt, and heartbroken. He gagged, and then realised that it wasn’t going to stop there. Not even at his worst crime scenes, or as a rookie seeing shit for the very first time, had Ralph Anderson ever thrown up at the sight of something – he was too calm and steady for that. But this was beyond words, this was you, this was the woman he loved, the person he wanted to spend forever with. And all of a sudden everything he’d been trying to hold in didn’t want to stay in his head, or his heart. And Ralph was crying again – but these were real body shaking sobs.  He had to do something about this, but he was just as afraid of what he would do to you.

 *** Ralph didn’t even wait past waking up the following morning. Dressing, he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say, or how he was going to do it – but he walked down those stairs with a fully loaded pistol in his left hand. You could have kicked yourself a million times – maybe you just wanted to pretend everything was alright, that his tone wasn’t off, that his vibe wasn’t off. That it was everything that Ralph had been through over the past month and not you. But as soon as you heard the hammer click back and felt not just the malice, but the intent, you knew it was all but over. You didn’t even look at him, staring straight at your coffee cup – there was no point hiding this now. “You better be careful with shooting that.” He should have been fazed by your sentence; he almost was. Instead what came out of his mouth was defensive and venomous; “I already know you can die.” You breathed out, is that how he was going to play it? “Not easily...” You turned to him, stare measured “I’m not some child who has barely grasped the concept of shifting and makes careless mistakes Ralph. I’m much older than he was.” His eyes flicked away from yours and his brows furrowed – it made him look angrier, rather than his usual concerned; “Who ARE you-!?” Your voice raised to match his, but you were determined not to shout; “You know who I am!” “How can I-!? You’ve lied to me from day one-!” You took a step back: no matter how right he was, what did he want you to say? “And if Frankie Peterson hadn’t turned out the way it did, you would be none the wiser-!” “So if another you had gotten away with what he did, that would have been okay-!?” “Ralph. Terry Maitland, Frankie Peterson… no one who lost their lives over this deserved it. Except the son of a bitch that did this in the first place-!” Your heart hurt, “What do you want me to say Ralph?! If I’d have told you what I was, then what?” “Four fucking years we’ve been together – and you didn’t even - Who are you, right now!?” “Me.” “Bullshit!” “I have a human face, as much as I have a form that’s a lot more like what you would traditionally call a monster-!” You winced, thinking you’d probably said all the words he didn’t want to hear; “Ralph, will you please put the gun down.” A bullet through your head might only slow you down. To be honest you’d never had much contact with human weaponry, but you didn’t fancy testing it out when the man you loved was the one pulling the trigger. “…I can’t sustain a human form for four years. Not even this one… But I promise you this face is my own.” “How many have you killed?” You noticed his gun hand didn’t waver “What?” “Children. People – I don’t care, how many, killed and eaten-!? FUCK! What the hell-! Do you know how crazy this sounds out of my mouth-!?” You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head; “I don’t know.” Not very “Considering you’re pointing a gun at me for being a shifter.” “Answer my question.” “Ral-” “ANSWER the question.” You sighed, “I don’t eat children that’s insane – that’s cruel, and heartless, and downright repulsive.” But people? Yeah – once, but how far back in your history did he want to go? Human sacrifices to Gods were once a thing. But ever since you’d walked predominantly on two legs with the face you’d chosen for yourself, you decided looking human meant acting like one too. Ralph’s laugh was cold, like he couldn’t believe he was trapped in this; “But what anything else is game – what do you get off on, is it the killing, or the suffering!?” “Suffering is like Heroin, but that’s unsustainable. If I wanted to feed on emotions those aren’t the ones I’d chose.” You followed the barrel of his gun as he shifted his weight; “I don’t kill people, that’s murder and there are laws against that. I am dating a fucking detective; how dumb do you think I am-!? And eating people?!” You scoffed, “If that’s what you think of me then we are done here.” That smile was just as cruel; “Yeah. We are fucking done. Hold your hands out.” You stared at him in disbelief, “Are you kidding me-!?” “I figure I can’t fucking shoot you in my own house. HANDS.” Though right now as he looked at you that wasn’t mercy, that was I’d rather not have to move out because they’re busy turning this into a crime scene! “You’re going to arrest me-!? On what charges-!?” “Whatever I have to. You’re dangerous.”  You figured with a gun still pointed at your face you’d rather do what Ralph said, and placed your wrists out; he would have nothing on you if you did what he asked. There was just one problem, your thought to instinctively try to take his own arm – to pull him closer to you and say something, or kiss him or anything. You were still you. Why did things have to change because of what you were? Ralph could be angry and upset but he was reacting to what he knew, why did that mean something had to happen? Of course as soon as your skin touched his he withdrew; “DON’T. Touch. Me.” Then he took a deep breath, rethinking his idea, “Turn around.” “What, so you don’t have to look at me when you shoot me?” “TURN. AROUND.” You narrowed your eyes, voice displaying your astonishment, “You really think I’m gonna turn you into Jack Hoskins, don’t you? You are un-fucking-belivable Ralph Anderson.” But you did turn away for him, and his yank on your arms was not gentle, “…If it makes any difference, I can’t do that. Whether it be a trait of his kind or just because he was so sick and twisted and evil…” Ralph pulled you back, cuffs tight against your skin. He hoped you wouldn’t strain and bleed blue again. “If it makes any difference…” He breathed, your back up against his chest (You didn’t dare tremble at that because it would be for all the wrong reasons), and you heard the faint click of his safety going back on, “I don’t care.”

 *** Ralph pushed you into the back of the car, and whilst he had you cuffed the questioning continued. But you felt his revulsion, and he didn’t look at you. “Was it ever really real? Any of it!!?” For a moment you pitied him, that he would be forced to say any of this; “Ralph. I love you.” “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it-!” “How can it not be real-!?” There was silence and then he sighed “You told me you couldn’t have kids... because you’re this?” You blinked hard, staring at the back of his head. Why would he chose to fixate on that specifically? You knew he’d been disappointed about it when you’d told him, but it was Ralph’s decision to stay anyway. Besides, any time he was on a case that involved children – particularly this one – he was always glad you didn’t have any.

You cast your eyes to the floor and then the window, but you didn’t want to be anything other than honest with him; “I can’t have children with you. Because you’re human. If my mating season coincided with his presence in Cherokee City then... I could have kids, yes.” You rested your head on the window, wondering why you were continuing but suddenly couldn’t stop yourself from giving him something like a Discovery Channel documentary on your species “…Females are bigger and it gets pretty nasty. Like you shoulda seen the other guy nasty – with teeth and claws like that… And he was pretty young, so even worse. That’s if he survived; females used to kill and eat males after mating. I believe there’s spiders that do similar. Though it’s always the female that chases… Shame that stopped to preserve our race; would have saved you a job…” Ralph found himself almost retching again and wished he’d never asked. The car ride fell silent.

Eventually he pulled out his mobile and tapped away an urgent text - despite trying to lean over to see what he was doing, he’d done it at such an angle that you simply couldn’t. You thought about telling him that texting and driving wasn’t safe, but preferred to keep quiet – less you get him yelling at you again. It wasn’t something you liked very much. Perhaps you deserved it, but you had to admit to yourself any time you’d thought about telling him, it never ended like this – perhaps he’d need some time alone to come to terms with such things and you’d help him through it as best you could, but it was never in the back of his car snapped in handcuffs. Besides, he was sitting texting so you didn’t know who he was talking to. Ralph Anderson was defiantly an “I’ll call you!” man.

 When he pulled into the precinct you knew exactly who he had messaged, as standing on the front steps looking equally confused and worried, we’re both Hayes and Sablo. You were outraged; “You’re kidding-!? You’re getting our friends involved-!??!” He turned to you with a look that said both shut up and how dare you call them friends, before exiting the vehicle and coming around to your side.

Yune was the first to move “Shit! Ralph! What the hell are you doing-!?” You supposed the question was warranted; Ralph was pulling his girlfriend out of the car in handcuffs. Hayes was staring, mouth open like this could only have been a dream. Try living it from this angle, mate. “What I must.” Was Ralph’s bitter reply “Y/N! What happened-!? Are you okay-!?” Though Ralph was putting his body firmly between Sablo and yourself. Possibly to protect him, but you’d roll your eyes at that – did he really expect you to go around attacking everyone now he knew? You gave him a weak smile; “Best to stay away from me Yune...” Ralph yanked you away from him and, holding you firmly, marched you into the building. Hayes was shoulder to shoulder with him; “What are you doing!?” “She’s going in a cell!” “Why-!? I hope you know what you’re doing calling me into this after Frankie Peterson!! What are the charges-!?” His shout-whispering definitely verged on the former, and you almost wanted to tell him to shut up also. “Whatever the hell you can possibly put on her.” “You haven’t CHARGED her-?!” Hayes stopped dead causing Yune to almost crash into him, “Ralph are you fucking insane?!?! Let her out of those cuffs right now, I’m not being a party to this!” “Well guess what - you are! And you have been for longer than you realise.” Yune placed his hands on his hips still watching you, and you were staring at the wall because right now your emotions were peaking all over the place, and if your eyes were going to burn silver it was now. “Will you at least tell us what this is about?” Ralph presses the button for the elevator; “Yeah. I’ll meet you in my office.”

As the elevator door pinged he walked you in, and pressed the button for the holding cells. You remained silent, finding your shoes more interesting. But what would you give to have those hands on you lovingly right now. Ralph’s grip was strong and you thought he was currently using more pressure than necessary, but supposed you understood. Yune and Hayes turned to each other in the lobby in utter disbelief - and Hayes sighed to break the silence, hardly daring to think he could possibly have been thrown into this situation again; “This is a lawsuit waiting to happen.” *** No-one asked him any questions. Probably because Ralph didn’t look like a man who wanted to be asked any questions right now – and you looked just as unlikely to say anything. In fact as he marched you down the corridor people actively stepped out of his way; man on a mission. He stopped to breathe only when he had you in front of the cell – and for once you could read your detective like an open book. He had no reason to hide emotion from you when he didn’t know you could read his aura, or get a vibe from him – but now they were loud and clear. Ralph pushed the cell door open and brought your wrists closer to his, paying close attention to your fingernails in the process. He unlocked the handcuffs, luckily they’d only made faint marks on your wrists because you didn’t struggle – he’d have a hard time explaining otherwise – and he almost sighed in relief, before giving you a hard shove in. You stumbled, caught off guard by the movement and he slammed the door shut behind you.  You turned around – damn near glaring at him as he locked it up, but he still wasn’t looking at your face. Ralph couldn’t, yet. Couldn’t bring himself to look at a person he thought he knew, and was now a damn near stranger. “You’re staying there until I figure out what to do with you-!” “Why don’t you just take me out to a cave and put a bullet through my head Ralph, that’s what you want-!! I can read you!” You almost spat it at him – because the nerve of him not to look at you was nearly insulting. Like he could throw away four years of good memories just like that. And then he all but did; “Because I LOVED YOU.” His voice raised and so did his eyes, that gorgeous blue now so in pain, and you couldn’t take it away this time – he was hurt and betrayed, but there was nothing in that sentence that held untrue and you could feel that. Loved. Past tense. Just like that. “Ralph…” Your eyes flickered silver and stayed that way, your shoulders and your features slumping in defeat, “Ralph, please…” “Oh no, you’re staying here. Now I gotta sort this fucking mess…” He stepped away from you, unnerved even more by that unnatural eye colour, “RALPH!” You couldn’t take that. How could he say that to you? How could he just walk away after saying loved!? But Ralph Anderson didn’t stop, he kept going, and you heard his quiet murmur that no one was to touch you, to see you or speak to you before he came back. There was agreement, and then your partners footsteps faded. You slumped down on the bench, unsure of what you were feeling for the first time in your entire life. You’d been through the rise and fall of empires. Been treated like a God, feared like a monster and hunted like an animal. Hidden in many different countries under many different identities in cities that didn’t even exist anymore. But in all those lifetimes – you hadn’t ever felt something quite like this.

***

Yune Sablo was eerily quiet, he couldn’t even find the words. That was okay though, because DA Kenneth Hayes was livid - and couldn’t get them all out quick enough.

“You WHAT-!?! This WHOLE time!? All that shit you told me on the phone about Jack Hoskins and-!?” He paused only to collect his thought, hand to his temple momentarily, “And some other police guy - that was all crap!? Do you two HEAR yourselves!? Shapeshifters - tell me this is all a big fucking set up, please! God, let this be a joke!!” Ralph shook his head; “Every word is true. And I can prove it, if you wanna walk with me to the holding cell. I mean it won’t be hard - she bleeds blue.” Hayes made a face; “I don’t want to go anywhere near that. What I wanna know is why everyone was in on this but me. Did I not matter? Was it something I said-!?” “You’re smart Hayes, but you’re logical. I would never have believed it until I had to, you would have laughed us out of your office. Easier to let you do what you had to on terms that make sense, and don’t sound insane.”

“Like you do!” Hayes then did laugh, but not in humour, “Ralph-! You’re saying she is the same kinda thing that killed and mutilated Frankie Peterson - and that’s not the only murder, you’ve given me two more that are known about and an attempted kidnapping - stole identities of countless people, made mind slaves of others and almost killed all of you in Tennessee-!? And she’s just locked up in a holding cell-!?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Ralph folded his arms, “she denies that she does any of that, but who is to say... and I couldn’t exactly shoot her in my own house could I-!?” Would have been a hell of a clean-up operation, and it’d taken more than a bullet to stop the last one. If he could withstand that, and you were older, then what could Ralph put you through before you died. He shook that thought quickly away when it started to remind him too much of torture. “And you believe her-!!?” Ralph was silent, and looked across to Yune for support. The Lieutenant clearly didn’t want to interject however, causing Hayes to put his head in his hands; “She’s met my KIDS Ralph-! She’s been to my house—! We’ve all been around her and to plenty of events -! And all she needs is a drop of blood to become us-!?” “I. Know.” Ralph sounded exasperated, “How do you think I feel-?!”

***

It was a lot later in the day when he returned. You’d been left alone with nothing much more than your thoughts, and had watched shadows pass along the floor. You were glad for the silence and you slept in short bursts – but all of it was broken. And when you awoke you wanted to reach for a person who was no longer there. Because you weren’t in bed back home like you usually were. It was almost strange that you’d ended up being the one with the nightmares now – having soothed Ralph out of more than his fair share since the beginning of all this.

 He walked in, duffel slung over his shoulder. He’d changed his shirt from this morning, so he’d clearly been home. You didn’t even have a clock to tell you the time. You’d mutter something about human rights – but knew you’d give Ralph the perfect opportunity to remind you that you weren’t human, and you refused to do that. He dropped the bag by the door – still giving you that same stare – like you were dead to him; the worst of the worst. And given the kinds of things Ralph had seen during his tenure, even you thought his look was a little unfair. But justified; why would you look at someone who had just broken your heart as anything less than a monster. And you really were one, at least in his eyes.

 He opened the door just a crack, satisfied that you would stay still - try and show that you were no harm to anyone - and kicked the bag over to you. You looked pretty subdued, just sitting there on the bench – Ralph hoped you’d had some time to think it all over and stew, like a real perp. He wanted you to make some kind of mistake. But he’d been through it with Yune and Hayes, you could be held here for 48 hours, despite cries of insanity and protest. Neither of them was about to let a shapeshifter run loose in Cherokee City (again), and Ralph just didn’t know what to do with you otherwise. Or if he could be trusted.  For a moment sympathy seemed to cross his face, and you weren’t sure if you should believe it or not; “I brought you some things. Clothes and pieces. I figured you might want them. It’s the decent thing…” Unlike you he seemed to say, but not out loud. Your eyes fell to the bag, and you reached for it slowly. Indeed, when you upzipped it, he’d given you fresh changes of clothes and a few things to make you more comfortable. You didn’t know why; he had no reason. Unless Ralph felt even just a little guilty about the situation. You supposed that was what he wanted you to feel most of all.

 You should have been thankful, but you weren’t. “Oh you’re bringing me things now!?” Your smile was thin, “I assume that means I’m staying? The full 48 hours is it, Ralph?” You raised an eyebrow, standing; “…Why? Why the hell even pretend you still care about me!?” His face fell immediately, the sadness in his eyes that pulled across his face replaced by steel blue anger. You weren’t about to beg his forgiveness and Ralph knew that. But you standing up in the way you just had, that determined stance, hard eyes – he barely took a breath. All his feelings about everything, from pulling up at the Frankie Peterson murder to right now came out at once. He was venomous and cruel, and he didn’t care, he’d had enough; Ralph slammed his hand up against the bars; “There’s nothing stopping me from walking out of here right now, coming back with a bus load of tourists, and just watch ‘em fucking push each other out of the way, desperate, trying to get the best angle of your fucking face. Just look at your eyes… The colour of your blood? How much do you think could be charged for that?” It was a disturbing thing to see. Suddenly the man in front of you was a complete stranger, there wasn’t a person in the world that you thought would recognise the smile on Ralph Anderson’s face now; “And then comes the ever curious scientific community. They’re gonna be real interested in you. Poking, probing, injecting, extracting…” He gave a slow shake of his head, lowering his voice to no more than a whisper, delivery as casual as if he were simply passing the time of day; “They’ll cut little pieces of you off, take you back to the lab.” You took a step back, lips parting, what was wrong with him? There was no way in hell he’d get to speak to a human being like this; but you guessed it was okay. Because as Ralph was reminding you, you weren’t one. He raised his voice again, that hatred wasn’t just for you, it was as much for the dead body in a cave in Tennessee, but it cut deep – deeper than you were prepared to admit whilst he was standing in front of you; “-Just keep fucking carving you, and carving you, and carving you until...” He paused, because your eyes flickered back to that silver, and Ralph figured he might have gone a step too far. Maybe but what the hell, he’d said it now – and didn’t your kind deserve it, for all you’d put this City, and all your victims through? “…yeah. You wouldn’t want that, would ya? And it would serve our purposes much better if no one ever knew that you even existed.” He took a step back, shaking his head, “So you gotta go.”  Then Ralph turned, without another word, and walked away.

The silence was suddenly eerie, and you wanted him back yelling at you again.  You were aware that your eyes were still shining and worse, they smarted. You heard lights flickering on and off throughout the station, and Ralph’s equally angry footsteps fading away. And all you could think of was him returning to that house all alone. You just hoped that his friends would support him… because you knew that he might be saying love in the past tense, but the pain in your chest told you you weren’t about to let him go. Not easily.

Your head lowered, resting against the metal, and when you knew he was gone, and you couldn’t feel his aura anymore you let out a breath; shaky. Just the one, before you started sobbing. ‘So you gotta go.’ That echoed far louder in your head than anything else. What had they decided in that room? That it was okay for them to kill you? Because surely no one else in the world would miss you. A lawyer and two detectives could cover it all up easily, it’d be seamless. He’d loved you for four years – and suddenly he could contemplate putting a bullet through your head. And with that line, would probably go through with it.

You placed your hands over your face, trying to quiet them. But realised just exactly what you had to cry about, aside from sitting in a jail cell, and losing a man you didn’t think you could live without; you had lost your city… and quite perhaps your life. In every sense of the word.

It’s all over. It’s all fucking over.

---

@menndelsohn​ @3134045126​​ @happyskywhale​ @wltz-bby​ #MendoTagSquad

Well this is it! The last fic of 24 - roll on all the ones I will write at 25!

[thestupidhelmet]

in your opinion what is the best, or your favorite, episode in each season?

I’m glad you phrased your question the way you did. My favorite episode might not necessarily be what I think is the best. I’ll try to give both if they don’t match.

Also, I don’t consider season 8 canon, so I’ll be skipping that one.

Season 1

Favorite: "Prom Night” (1x19).

Reasoning: Hyde’s characterization gets an overhaul. Now that his role as Eric’s villainous, selfish foil is ended, he becomes someone who sacrifices his own comfort, and even safety, to protect and help the vulnerable -- even if it’s someone he doesn’t personally like. He gains complexity and is shown to have a personal code of honor, a one-eighty from his depiction in the previous episodes. This character change/development is reconfirmed and deepened in “The Good Son” (1x25).

“Prom Night” also has the one Jackie/Kelso scene that actually moves me emotionally: their slow dance to “Freebird” while everyone else leaves the Prom. In that moment, I actually believe their relationship could evolve from the obvious love they have for each other. But Kelso ruins that potential by cheating on Jackie again the very next episode. 

Eric and Donna’s storyline in the episode is both funny and touching. Plus, Fez gets his moment to shine in front of his whole class while dancing with Gloria Gaynor.

Best: “The Pill” (1x17).

Reasoning: Donna and Jackie both take control of their bodies in this episode. The 1970s aren’t just window dressing (as they become during later seasons), but the episode’s story is still relevant today. Donna and Jackie’s friendship deepens -- and is directly stated as a friendship. Eric dislike of Jackie and loyalty to Kelso are thrust aside; instead, he’s protective of Jackie and wants Kelso to act responsibly.

Jackie breaks up with Kelso, having a moment of clarity, and chooses herself first (sadly, it doesn’t last).

Season 2

Favorite/Best: “Cat Fight Club” (2x25)

Reasoning:  I consider this season to be the best in terms of writing, characterization, humor, and consistency, so this choice is the best of the best.

This episode gives us the core or key to Hyde’s character. (Notice a theme here? *lol*). But the storyline shows Jackie beginning to integrate well with the group without Kelso -- and that the group’s loyalty to Kelso isn’t blinding or all-encompassing (at least here). It reveals Kelso’s cruelty and hypocrisy, depicts Jackie’s vulnerability and inexperience dealing with such cruelty, and Hyde teaching her how to protect herself. By doing so, he makes himself vulnerable to her by revealing his own self-protection techniques. This pays off (i.e. Jackie uses her knowledge of Hyde to reveal his true feelings) in “Jackie Bags Hyde” (3x08).

We also see in this episode Donna supporting Jackie and putting herself at risk during the scrap with Laurie. Eric expresses his approval and admiration for Jackie, too; as does Hyde, albeit differently. Jackie truly kicks ass in “Cat Fight Club,” literally and figuratively.

Season 3

Favorite: “Jackie Bags Hyde” (3x08)

Reasoning: Despite that the episode ends with Jackie not feeling any emotional connection with Hyde during their kiss, the rest gives us plenty of great development of Jackie and Hyde -- as individuals and as a pair. I’ve written plenty of metas about this episode, so won’t rehash the analysis here.

The Veteran’s Day BBQ war between Red and Bob is entertaining, as well, and gives us deeper characterization for Red, Bob, Eric and Donna. Red puts his pride aside to boost Bob’s, which desperately needs it. Red, like Hyde, can and will put his own needs and comfort aside to help someone who needs it.

Best: “Red Sees Red” (3x02)

Reasoning: The storyline of Red trying to keep his kids, including Hyde, from smoking pot and the conclusion where Kitty takes back the house is really well-written. It’s full of humor, character development, and depicts the dynamic among different pairings and groupings of characters.

Season 4

Favorite: “Donna’s Story” (4x08)

Reasoning: This was a tough decision for me. Many episodes of season 4 have elements I enjoy, like Red and Hyde’s scene in “Hyde’s Birthday” (4x23), but I chose “Donna’s Story” because it’s the one that gives me the most laughs. Donna’s and Eric’s stories are both ridiculous and over-the-top, but they represent each character’s POV accurately. 

Best: “It’s a Wonderful Life” (4x01)

Reasoning: The episode is a fascinating, and frightening, AU of That ‘70s Show (far more interesting than the AU that is season 8). Eric’s pain at losing Donna is palpable, but his choice to keep it so that he can keep his memories of their love, too, is incredibly moving.

Season 5

Favorite: “Black Dog” (5x09)

Reasoning: Even though Hyde’s character is retconned to having no ability to provide verbal comfort (“Red’s Birthday” [2x10] and “Kelso’s Serenade” are just two examples where Hyde is shown to give verbal comfort skillfully), he never gives up trying to cheer Jackie up. He confides in Mrs. Forman listens to Eric and Donna’s advice, and ultimately sacrifices something that gives him pleasure (i.e. his beard) so that Jackie knows she’s loved and that he’ll do what he can to put her first.

Best: “Going to California” (5x01)

Reasoning: It’s another episode that’s good from start to finish. The plot and humor arise from character. Although I wish Eric and Donna had actually dealt with what broke them up, it’s a problem that’s bigger than this episode; it should’ve been dealt with during the first three or four episodes of the season. Eric and Donna do have a lovely reunion in “Going to California,” however, and -- of course -- the reveal of Jackie and Hyde’s relationship is a wonderful culmination of four years of development.

Season 6

Favorite/Best: “Magic Bus” (6x03)

Reasoning: Eric/Donna, Jackie/Hyde, and Red/Kitty all get great storylines in this episode. Season 6 tends to force characters to serve plot and punchline instead of letting plot and punchline. This episode, though, is a prime example of how the most satisfying stories and humor arise organically from the characters’ personalities and feelings, their conflicts, and their choices.

Season 7

Favorite: “Oh, Baby (We Got a Good Thing Goin’) (7x18)

Reasoning: Season 7 is the beginning of the end. The choices made here led to season 8, and “Oh, Baby (We Got a Good Thing Goin’) is the last truly happy episode for Jackie and Hyde. We get significant scenes of them together as a couple, and we see that they truly enjoy spending time with each other, how well they know each other, and how well they fit together.

Their harmony is meant to stand in contrast to and reveal Red and Kitty’s disharmony at the car show, mainly for humor, but we get a preciously rare look at what Jackie and Hyde’s relationship is like without conflict and drama.

Best: “Beast of Burden” (7x04)

Reasoning: Plot and humor arise organically from the characters. Hyde is conflict over his loyalty to Red vs. his desire to build a relationship with W.B. Red ultimately makes the choice for him, showing his selfless love for Hyde. Jackie, too, expresses her unconditional love for Hyde (”If [working with grease] makes you happy, than I’m happy”).

Fez’s subplot isn’t great, but most episodes of season 7 are uneven.

[blossom-hwa]

Love a Demon - JAEMIN

uh.... yeah.... i was on hiatus.... sorry for my super long absence. school’s been kicking my ass and i’ve really been hating everything recently... i wasn’t in such a good place. but i found some time to write and that coincided with some lucky inspiration for this fic, so i’ve finally finished it! as for the messages in my inbox, i’ll answer 

thank you thank you yet again to @chenle for the idea of guardian devils that gave birth to this entire series! if you want to read it, here it is! 

Pairing: Jaemin x fem!reader 

Genre: angst, fluff, angel/demon!au

Triggers: death, cancer (I tried to portray things as accurately as I could which was difficult because I don’t have experience in the matter; I did not intend to romanticize anything and if you find that I did, please please message me and let me know how I can fix it!)

Notes: reading “Trust a Demon” or “Kiss an Angel” isn’t required to understand most of the story, but it might make some things less confusing. Both of Mark’s and Chenle’s stories are mentioned here anyway. 

Word Count: 7.6k

Loving a demon comes at a price. 

NCT Masterlist | Angels and Demons

Love begins slowly.

. . . . .

Jaemin walks out of Lucifer’s throne room, wincing. Two new characters are imprinted into the curve of his wrist, visible only to him.

They’re paler than he expected.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, testing your name out on his tongue. “Y/N L/N.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Haechan asks out of the blue, slinging an arm around Jaemin’s neck. “New girlfriend?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, shoving Haechan’s arm away. “No. New assignment. And I’ve only ever had one girlfriend!”

“Hence the ‘new’,” the older boy huffs, replacing his arm.

“That makes it sound like I’ve had more than one already!” Jaemin complains.

“Connotation, Hyuck, I’ve told you about this before,” Mark says, walking up. “Just because you were born in a century when connotation wasn’t a word doesn’t mean you don’t understand its meaning. New assignment, Jaemin?”

“Yeah.” Jaemin almost shows Mark his wrist before remembering that only he can see it. “Y/N L/N. Her last guardian demon… he almost left her to die. Lucifer wasn’t happy, so he’s serving punishment now.”

All three demons wince.

“Cute,” Haechan finally says, making a face.

“How is punishment cute?” Jisung says, startling them all.

“Stop sneaking up like that!” Mark snaps.

“It’s a colloquial term used to describe pretty much anything,” Haechan explains. “Shouldn’t you know, Jisung, since you literally just got out of preschool?”

Jaemin just pinches Jisung’s scowling cheek and smiles. “Jisung is cute. Punishment is not,” he decides, looking at his wrist again. “I should probably go and check out this Y/N girl. So I know what she looks like and all. I’ll see you later, I guess.”

There’s the usual chorus of goodbyes, and then Jaemin touches his tattoo and is sent to earth.

“I’ll never get used to this,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. The sun is almost too bright compared to the darkness of hell, and it takes a while to adjust. The nauseating feeling of being pulled apart and put back together again eases quickly though, and after a few minutes, he feels well again.

“Y/N L/N,” he whispers, listening intently for any sounds of the name. “Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N!” someone shouts nearby. Jaemin whips around, turning towards the shout.

And then he sees you.

You’re laughing, bag slung over your back, hair tumbling over your shoulders as you talk animatedly with someone Jaemin assumes is your friend. He can see your twinkling eyes, your wide smile, your tanned skin, and for a moment, he’s mesmerized.

He’s glad that his friends didn’t come along, or they’d probably be teasing him about his flaring cheeks. He’s also glad that no one can see him, because he’s sure that they’d think he’s a creep for staring.

With a start, he realizes his time is running out. You’re walking away anyway, going someplace else. He weaves through the crowd and ends up behind a row of shops, full of the shade and shadows that characterize his home.

As he melts into the darkness, Jaemin thinks to himself that he’ll never forget your face.

. . . . .

Love is complicated.

. . . . .

Jaemin’s first time saving you happens not two weeks after he first sees you, and it’s nothing like he expects.

“What are you doing here?” he yells at the boy who’s glaring at him with just as much hatred.

“She’s my assignment, what about you?” Jeno sneers, refusing to back down.

Anger gives way to confusion which in turn gives way to guilt over how lost and scared you look, caught between the two boys, eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

“How can she be your assignment when she’s mine?” Jaemin asks, the venom fading from his voice.

Jeno’s eyes fill with the same confusion he’s sure are in his, and he shakes his head. “Stop lying,” he snaps, but Jaemin knows that Jeno’s bluffing.

“No lie, Jael,” Jaemin smirks, regaining some of his former confidence. “Lost your touch? Can’t tell when I’m lying or not anymore?”

Jeno scowls, his eyes turning murderous. “Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You don’t deserve to.”

“Uh… guys?”

Both boys turn their heads to you, eyes softening immediately. You’re gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles are turning white but the fear in your eyes is mostly gone, replaced by cautious curiosity. “What… what’s going on?” You take a deep breath, loosening your grip. “I saw the block falling… and someone pulled me away… who was it?” You look between the two boys, and Jaemin swears his heart stops beating when you look into his eyes for that one split second.

“Me,” he finally gets out. “It was me.”

Jeno scoffs quietly but doesn’t argue. If there’s anything good about the angel, it’s that he won’t tell lies.

Your soft smile is worth seeing his enemy again. “How… how did you do it so fast? It was…” You laugh a little shakily. “If I hadn’t almost died, I’d be raving over how cool that was. Anyway, uh, thank you.” You laugh again. “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jeno interrupts, looking annoyed. “It was his job.”

Oh, fuck you, Jael.

“Job?” you echo, looking lost yet again.

“Why do you ruin everything, Ja - Jeno?” Jaemin snaps, ignoring Jeno’s slight flinch. “Now we have to tell her!”

Jeno blinks once, then twice, then shrugs slightly. To anyone who didn’t know him well, they’d believe his casualness, but Jaemin can still read his former best friend like a book. He knows Jeno is just as confused by his actions as he is.

A sigh escapes Jaemin’s lips, but he forces a gentle smile just to put you at ease. “We’re… well, he’s a guardian angel.” Jaemin gestures slightly at Jeno. “And, uh, I’m a demon. A guardian demon.”

There’s a long moment of silence between the three of you.

“Angels and demons exist?” you finally ask.

“Yes, they do,” Jeno replies, cutting Jaemin off. A flash of annoyance runs through the demon and he knows Jeno noticed. Jaemin didn’t miss the angel’s tiny smirk.

Your voice cuts into Jaemin’s thoughts. “I’ve never heard of a guardian demon before.”

“Well, now you have.” Jaemin laughs slightly, edging a little closer to you. He doesn’t miss the way Jeno’s eyes latch onto the small movement and a slight sense of triumph runs through him.

“So I have a guardian angel and a guardian demon?” you ask. “How come I’ve never seen either of you until now?”

“Well, technically you’re only supposed to have one,” Jeno breaks in. “Either an angel or a demon. But I guess the universe screwed up this time.” The glance Jeno sends Jaemin is brief but full of venom that Jaemin returns. “And we only appear when you’re in a life or death situation, like just now.”

You nod slowly. “Interesting,” you murmur, looking between the boys curiously. “Well, it was nice meeting you…” You trail off, realizing you don’t know their names.

The two boys look at each other instinctively, wordlessly coming to an agreement. They look away just as quickly.

“Jaemin.”

“Jeno.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jaemin and Jeno,” you finish sweetly, bowing slightly to them both. “I’ll leave now. Thank you for saving my life,” you add, flashing Jaemin another sweet smile.

Jaemin can feel his heart thumping.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replies, smiling back. A tinge of satisfaction runs through his veins as he sees Jeno’s eye twitch. “Try not to get into too much trouble,” he teases gently.

“I will,” you tease back conspiratorially, and with a slight wave, you leave.

Once you’re gone, the tension between the angel and demon becomes palpable again, so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Of course if the universe screwed up, it’d have to put me with you,” Jeno spits bitterly.

“You think this is any fun for me?” Jaemin snaps back.

Jeno scoffs once, then disappears in a flash of light.

“Well, fuck you too,” Jaemin mutters, melting into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love grows quickly.

. . . . .

“I’m only seeing her to make sure she’s okay,” Jaemin whispers to himself as he walks down the street. “Just to make sure she’s okay.”

Deep inside, he knows that’s a lie, but he shoves that thought away. You’ve nearly died twice now, and though you didn’t look too shaken up the last time, Jaemin could see that you were trembling slightly. He could feel you shaking in his grasp as he gave your hand one last squeeze, ignoring Jeno’s glare, before you walked away.

Maybe it’s just Jaemin, but he can’t seem to forget the way you smiled that first time he saved you. He hated the terrified look in your eyes that last time and he feels he’d do anything to see you smile again.

Humming slightly, he opens the door to the music store where you work. His eyes sweep the shop until they land on your figure as you arrange CDs on shelves. He immediately makes a beeline for you.

When he’s a few feet away, you turn around, perhaps hearing his footsteps. It’s with surprise that you greet him with a quiet exclamation of his name as you put away the last CD. “Why’re you here?” you ask, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

Jaemin swallows, his cheeks turning a bit red. “Just…” He swallows again, then composes himself. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay after what happened… last time.”

Your eyes darken slightly and Jaemin feels bad for making you remember, but the look clears after a bit and you smile at him a little sadly. “I’m fine, Jaemin,” you say softly, eyes flitting around. “There are worse things than death.”

He frowns a little. What is that supposed to mean?

“Anyway, where’s Jeno?” you ask, clearly trying to divert the topic. “I thought you two were a package deal or something. You two always appear together.”

A sour expression twists Jaemin’s face. “Not willingly,” he mutters.

“Oh. Uh… sorry.” Your awkwardly apologetic face tilts the corners of Jaemin’s mouth though, and he laughs. “It’s alright, Y/N. It’s a reasonable question.”

“He’s an angel and you’re a demon, right?” you ask. “Mind explaining to me how this works in more detail? I know you said some stuff the first time we met, but I didn’t quite grasp it.”

Jaemin bites his lip, looking at the clock at the back of the store.

I’m going to be in so much trouble when I get back, he thinks wryly. He isn’t supposed to even see you outside of life and death situations, and now you’re asking him to explain this convoluted world of angels and demons. It’s all technically forbidden.

But for some reason, he doesn’t care.

Mark did it, didn’t he? Jaemin reasons. Plus, he wouldn’t pass up a chance to see your eyes light up with wonder the same way they did when you first met.

“Sure,” he hears himself say. “When’s your break? We can go to the café next door.”

You wave him off, grinning. “It isn’t busy and my brother owns this place,” you say. “Let’s go!”

And later, when Jaemin looks at you over his cup of Americano, seeing your eyes sparkling with curiosity, he wonders if love can really come this quickly.

. . . . .

Love comes steadily.

. . . . .

A lashing the first time, two lashings the second. Jaemin doesn’t care. Seeing your face is worth the pain.

Mark tells him no, it shouldn’t be. But Na Jaemin doesn’t care. Doesn’t Mark have a girlfriend, anyway? A human girlfriend?

“It’s - that’s a special case!” Mark sputters, trying to dissuade the younger boy, but Jaemin later notices that Mark’s stopped trying to persuade him so much.

Sometimes, though, Jaemin wishes Mark tried harder to stop him. Because with every time Jaemin sees you, he wants less and less to leave.

He also wishes Jeno could just butt out of his life, but clearly the universe has other plans.

“Leave her alone,” Jeno hisses one day, cornering Jaemin as he’s coming out of the music shop for the nth time. Jaemin flinches slightly in surprise before setting his features in a hard, cold, look.

“And why should I?”

“You’re corrupting her,” Jeno spits. “And you’re not supposed to be with her, exception or no.”

“Too bad I’ve never quite been one for rules, though, Jael,” Jaemin replies with forced lightness. He refuses to look at the older boy but can feel his gaze boring into his skin. “And corrupting? I think that’s a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“Clearly not if I just used it,” Jeno snaps. “I choose my words carefully, unlike you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a sigh, and then Jeno’s forcing Jaemin to face him, ignoring all the strange looks he’s receiving from passerby. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses. “Telling her sweet words, making promises you can’t keep, revealing everything? She’s a human, she’s your assignment, for heaven’s sake. All you’re doing is hurting her!”

The words strike a little close to home but Jaemin’s face remains neutral. “If I didn’t know better,” he replies coolly, “I’d think you cared for her.” A smirk twitches the side of his lip. “But we both know that isn’t true, right?” He spins around to walk away.

“I may not be able to stop you,” Jeno says behind him, “but your kind most certainly can.”

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look back.

He can’t stop the slight guilt in his chest, though, the next time he sees you.

Jeno wasn’t completely wrong about Jaemin’s words.

. . . . .

Love is difficult.

. . . . .

One year passes. You grow closer to Jaemin. Jaemin becomes more attached to you.

And the tattoo on his wrist begins to lose its boldness and becomes lighter.

Jaemin wonders if you know your life is ebbing away. He wonders if you know that this tentative romance between him and you cannot last. That it likely won’t even reach full bloom.

If he had more time, if he didn’t have Jeno on his back, Jaemin thinks you could have a beautiful love, just like the one Mark has with his girlfriend. Mark doesn’t know it, but Jaemin envies him and his luck.

“I find it intriguing how some people have happy endings while others don’t,” you remark one day. Jaemin’s helping you put away records and CDs on the shelves but he stops when he hears your words.

“Intriguing.”

“Yes, intriguing.” You turn around to face him. “Some people have happy endings but don’t deserve them. Some have sad endings but don’t deserve them. Is that really fair?”

A cold awkwardness begins to settle in the air. Jaemin looks at you, really looks at you, and notices the changes in your appearance. Eye bags, listless hair, pale skin. Your eyes aren’t sparkling like they usually are. Your lips don’t smile like they usually do.

He realizes you have less time than even he thought.

“Have you been speaking with Jeno?” Jaemin whispers. His mind kicks into overdrive. If you have, then just how much has he told you?

You don’t answer, instead opening another box of CDs.

“Have you?” Jaemin presses.

Finally, you look up. “And if I have?”

It hurts, knowing that you’ve met with his sworn enemy with the full knowledge that they hate each other. Still, Jaemin tries to understand.

Trying to understand doesn’t stop him from wanting to spit in Jeno’s face. Seeing as the angel isn’t here, however, he settles for taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Jeno and I have very different beliefs,” he begins carefully. “He believes that all should be fair. If someone has done good deeds, why should they have their life cut short when they could be given the gift of life for longer?”

You don’t look at him, but Jaemin knows you’re listening. He continues. “And yet… who is he to decide whether or not someone may live longer? Who is God to decide that? If the universe ordained someone’s life to be as long as it is… who has the right to change fate?”

Placing the last few CDs on the shelf, you finally turn around again. Jaemin sees the pain in your face and knows that you know how short your life will be.

“Angels believe some lives should be prolonged, while others may be shortened. Demons believe lives should stay the same length they were preordained to. I am a demon, so you know what I believe. I do not know which side is right or wrong. Beliefs do not mean truth. But that is what I believe.”

You nod slightly.

“Nothing is truly fair. You can divide your candies into two piles of equal amounts but none of the candies are the same size. You can try to pour equal amounts of milk into two glasses but they will never be the same. Bad people may die rich. Good people may die poor. But at the end of the day, as callous as it sounds, it is their fate. They will be rewarded or punished as they must be in the afterlife.”

The silence between you two extends until the bell at the door rings, signaling the arrival of another customer. Without a second glance, without another word, you brush past Jaemin to greet them.

Jaemin sighs. While you’re busy, he walks out of the store. The bell rings, signaling his exit, but you don’t follow him.

He sets off to find Jeno.

. . . . .

Love is hard.

. . . . .

“Jael!” Jaemin yells, startling the angel into turning around. His mouth twists into a snarl.

Jeno only looks at Jaemin haughtily. “What do you want?”

Jaemin sneers, eyes flashing with fire. “So you told me to stay away from Y/N,” he seethes, “but then you go and tell her a bunch of crap about me, right? Hypocrite, much?”

The angel stiffens slightly but still says nothing.

“What is wrong with you?!” Jaemin yells. “What is your problem?! I get that you hate me and I do too but for fuck’s sake, I would never purposely try to ruin your happiness!”

“So you admit it, then?” Jeno’s quiet voice startles Jaemin. “You admit that she’s your happiness?”

Wind rustles through the trees, picking up the leaves and sending them swirling around. Agitated, Jaemin doesn’t realize that the leaves are starting to swirl around him as his powers react to his emotions.

Jaemin’s stuck. He can’t say no, because Jeno knows when he lies. And he basically just admitted it. So why doesn’t he say anything? Why doesn’t he loudly declare his love for you?

As the leaves swirl around him faster and faster, whipping through his hair and crackling in the air, Jaemin stares at Jeno’s eyes, and he knows why he doesn’t loudly claim his love.

Jeno’s eyes, so dark and mysterious, so beautiful and dangerous, hold no anger. No resentment.

Only sadness.

And Jaemin realizes that Jeno loves you too.

He doesn’t need to say anything, though. The look in his eyes, the swirling leaves, his flushed face all speak volumes of the truth. Jeno doesn’t need words to know.

The angel gives the demon one last, long look before disappearing in a flash of light.

All the fight leaves Jaemin’s body and the leaves flutter to the ground, scattering themselves around him. He sinks down, staring at the leaf that’s fallen onto his lap.

It’s a burst of orange, yellow, red, a bright sunset captured in a single leaf. But there’s a touch of soggy brown at the tip, hinting at its inevitable decay.

Like you.

Jaemin sighs, twirling the leaf in his fingers before slipping it into his pocket. His eyes flutter to your name on his wrist, and his chest tightens at how light the writing is getting. Then, making sure no one is around, he disappears into the shadow of a nearby tree.

As he fades into the darkness, he wonders if you really, really know just how little time you have left.

. . . . .

Love is powerful.

. . . . .

Jaemin knows when he next sees you. The sallow bags under your eyes, the pallor of your skin. The hair hanging limp across your shoulders, the tired upturn of your lips that you send him when he walks in.

“Hi,” you greet listlessly, trying and failing to conjure your usual verve. Jaemin regrets all the weeks he spent avoiding you, thinking that you hated him.

But still, how did you change this much in a mere few weeks?

“Hi,” he replies cautiously, his heart aching.

“Nice of you to see me again,” you say.

When I’m dying.

You don’t say the words, but they hang in the air, unsaid but heavy. Stifling.

Jaemin swallows. “I’m sorry.”

The tired smile on your face grows a little warmer, your eyes regaining a little bit of their past brightness. “It’s okay,” you say. “I’m sorry, too.”

Silence.

You finally laugh a little. “You probably know, don’t you?” The glance you give his wrist saves him from answering. “I’m dying. Got the diagnosis last week. Cancer.” You lean down to pick up a box of CDs, but Jaemin rushes over and takes it from you. “Sit down for a bit,” he says. “Where do you need this?”

“Jaemin, I can do it,” you protest, but Jaemin shakes his head. “Let me.”

Silence falls in the shop. It’s late, and Jaemin knows your brother must be home by now, but he’s not. He asks why.

“He’s at the hospital. Figuring things out.” You huff a little. “I was supposed to go but I didn’t want to. I hate hospitals.”

Hearing those words almost makes Jaemin break down, but he forces himself to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Don’t worry.” Suddenly you’re next to him, a hand on his arm, looking up with bright, sad eyes. “I understand. I’m sorry I didn’t before.” You muster up a small smile. “I guess it’s just my time.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

Jaemin places the box down with a thud, spinning around to pull you into a crushing embrace, feeling your tears begin to soak his shirt. He closes his eyes, burying his face in your hair, breathing in the slight scent of your shampoo while trying not to cry himself. But despite his efforts, a tear escapes his eye.

When you finally pull away, face teary, Jaemin takes your hands, looking deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry for one more thing,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I never told you I loved you.”

. . . . .

Love is inopportune.

. . . . .

Maybe Jaemin is neglecting his other duties. Maybe he isn’t being a proper guardian demon, and maybe Lucifer has a legitimate reason for being angry at him. But in his defense, nothing’s been happening with his other three assignments. And as much as he doesn’t like it, he knows he would leave your side in a heartbeat, if only for a short while, to save them.

Skin blistering, Jaemin blinks tears out of his eyes as he walks out of the throne room. He winces, catching a glimpse of the red, inflamed flesh of his shoulder.

“Jeez, Jaemin,” Haechan comments. “Maybe you should really take a step back.”

“Who are you to talk?” Jaemin snaps. “You spend all your time mooning over a girl who can’t even see you!”

Haechan reels, looking hurt.

“Don’t tell me I wouldn’t understand, because I do!” Jaemin ignores the screaming pain in his shoulder, gesticulating wildly. “I fucking love her, Haechan! I fucking do! This is killing me! And you expect me to take a fucking step back?!”

“Shut up, Jaemin, just shut up!” Haechan yells. “Shut up!”

“SHE IS DYING, AND YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE HER SIDE?!” Jaemin screams, tears of pain and sadness springing into his eyes.

“YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO LOVES SOMEONE AS MUCH AS YOU DO!” Haechan yells, scraping his arm across his face.

Jaemin whirls around, ready to stalk off, but someone blocks his way. He looks up, ready to go off again, but softens slightly when he sees Jisung looking between his two friends. “Hi, Jisung,” he says in a clipped tone.

“Hi,” the younger boy says cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing -”

“Jaemin here is being an idiot,” Haechan spits.

“YOU LITERALLY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I’M GOING THROUGH, AND YOU’RE GOING TO CALL ME AN IDIOT?!”

“Whoa.” With an authority Jaemin didn’t know he had, Jisung places a calming hand on his friends’ arms. “Okay. I think I know what’s going on.”

Haechan scoffs, but Jisung takes no notice. A sad, faraway look envelops his young face, and he hangs his head slightly. “Let’s go talk somewhere else.”

So that’s how three demons find themselves on a quiet field, sitting stiffly on the grass, two of them refusing point-blank to look at each other. Jisung glances at both of them, sees their animosity, and sighs.

“You’re both in love with humans. People you’re supposed to guard.” He states the fact simply, without glamour or fanfare.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaemin sees Haechan nod slightly. He does the same.

“I loved someone once. First love. We met through dance at the academy, started dating in high school. Then I died.”

The admission falls out of Jisung’s lips as naturally as water over a cliff, but the words seem so alien that for a moment, animosity forgotten, his two friends only stare at him open-mouthed. His words are so frank, so utterly honest and natural, and yet they can’t believe it. How could Jisung, their quiet and innocent friend, have ever loved someone to the depth that he claims he has? Sweet, quiet Jisung, who never knows what’s going on? 

But his eyes tell the truth. And right now, they convey a knowledge far beyond the boy’s years. Jaemin listens intently, ears straining to catch every word.

“I thought I’d never see her again. I became friends with you guys and the others in heaven, then we joined Lucifer, and long story short, I thought she would have forgotten about me. At least ten years had passed by then. I wouldn’t have blamed her.” Jisung stares into the distance, plucking at the grass absentmindedly. “And then her guardian angel almost failed her, and by some stupid trick of fate, I got assigned to her instead.”

Haechan sucks in a breath.

“She hadn’t forgotten about me.” Jisung sighs. “Every year she went back to my grave. She talked to me as though I was still alive. She never stopped, not even… not even after she got married.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to gasp.

“She’s happy now.” Jaemin looks over to see Jisung smiling slightly, the brightness truly reaching his eyes. “And I am too. I’m glad she’s happy, and not still hung up over me.” He pauses, and his smile grows wider. “I’m not hung up over her, either.”

There’s a small silence, broken only by the wind whistling across the field.

Jisung clears his throat. “Point is, I get what you guys are thinking. And it’s hard. Haechan, you know how hard it is. She doesn’t even know you exist. So be a bit more understanding to Jaemin.”

Haechan nods almost imperceptibly.

“And Jaemin, it’s difficult, yes, but keep her in mind. Make her days feel as full and bright as possible. Let her leave with as few regrets as possible.” Jisung smiles a little. “You’ll always love her, and she’ll always love you.”

And the more Jaemin thinks about it, Jisung is right. He looks over at the younger boy with a newfound respect, marveling at the hidden wisdom behind the boy’s young face. “Thanks, ‘Sung,” he says, before turning to Haechan. “And I’m sorry, Haechan.”

Haechan nods. “I’m sorry, too.”

Jisung breaks the short silence that follows by standing up, dusting blades of grass off of his pants. “Mark’s girlfriend invited us to dinner when I was with them earlier. We should probably go now.”

Jisung and Haechan disappear into the shadows, but Jaemin lingers a bit longer, lost in his thoughts. They still whirl around his mind, just as chaotic as before, but not so fast. A little calmer.

Maybe he feels a bit more at peace too.

Jaemin closes his eyes, feeling the wind on his face. It ripples through his hair, his clothes, and brushes gently, coolly, against his skin.

If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was the universe, telling him that things will be alright.

. . . . .

Love has no kindness.

. . . . .

“I’m back,” Jaemin says softly, reappearing in your hospital room long after the place has closed. In one hand he carries a bag of food, and in the other, one of your favorite books.

“Good.” Your muffled voice is tired but when you roll over slightly, careful not to disturb the needles in your arms, your eyes are happy. You make small grabbing motions with your hands. “Food.”

Jaemin laughs. “Always hungry,” he teases, setting the bag carefully on the table. Laughing at your whining, he pokes a cookie in between your lips. “Here.”

You hum in delight, chewing the cookie, and reach over to turn on the bedside lamp. With it, Jaemin can see your sunken features, your overly pale skin, your shaved head. And his heart hurts.

Something hits his chest. “Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, gesturing at the snack now lying on the floor. “I’m fine. Now eat something!”

“Sorry.” He picks up the snack, unwrapping it slowly as he sits on the bed next to you. “I just… never mind.”

“Hey.” You pause in picking up another cookie to take his hand instead.

Your hands are warm. They fit perfectly in his.

“You’re the one who told me things can’t be changed, right?” you murmur, looking up at him. “Nothing is going to change. I wish it wasn’t like this either, but what can I do?” You shrug as best you can, lying down in the bed. “What can you do?”

Nothing. The word hangs unsaid in the air, enveloping the room in a dark cloud of sadness.

He can’t do anything.

As much as he wants to, he can’t. Maybe if you were supposed to die in a car crash he could save you from that. Pull you out of the car. Shield you from something.

But against this illness? He can’t do anything to prevent it from spreading. He has no medical knowledge. He knows nothing. And even if he did, he couldn’t do it.

Not even Jeno can try to turn this matter around.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.”

Your hands squeeze his with surprising strength. “Don’t be.”

“I wish I were as strong as you.” Jaemin’s voice is choked, a little broken, and full of guilt.

“But Jaemin, you are.” You smile a little, its brightness reaching your eyes ever so slightly. “You love me. Loving takes strength. To love someone broken takes even more.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe at one point you were, but you aren’t now. Broken would imply you’re missing something. Or some part of you isn’t working. Is that true?”

“Yeah. My immune system.” You snicker, watching him roll your eyes. But the mischievous glint fades away to a peaceful glimmer, full of warmth and love, that dissipates the cold, damp sadness that had settled in the room.

Jaemin idly begins to play around with your fingers and you let him, closing your eyes in contentment. A tiny smile plays on your face, and Jaemin can’t help the kiss he presses to your lips.

You open your eyes. “Do that again,” you whisper.

And with a smile, he does.

. . . . .

Love has a price.

. . . . .

“Jaoel.”

Jaemin stiffens, turning around to come face to face with Jeno.

“Who’s the one that didn’t want me calling them by their God-given name?” he mocks.

Tension crackles in the air as the two beings stare at each other. Jeno bites his lip hard and Jaemin smirks. He knows that habit. Jeno does it whenever he’s trying to hold back his anger.

“Are you really going to let her die?” Jeno finally says, raising a tense eyebrow.

The hairs on Jaemin’s neck stand up. “Don’t you dare,” he says lowly.

“Don’t I dare what, Jaoel?” Jeno laughs mirthlessly, eyes fixating on Jaemin’s with an intensity that can’t be matched. “Tell me. Don’t. I. Dare. What?”

Dead silence.

“You’re not the only one who loves her, you know,” Jeno whispers.

“And you’re not the person who knows best for her!” Jaemin snaps.

“And are you, Jaemin? ARE YOU?!”

Jeno’s shout makes Jaemin flinch slightly, but he holds his ground. “No,” he hisses, “but I know that she doesn’t deserve to suffer even more than she already is.”

Pure pain flashes through Jeno’s eyes for one second and Jaemin can commiserate, remembering with a pang at how weak and pale you seemed the last time he saw you. “Would you really want her to suffer like this?” he murmurs. Heart heavy, he turns around, ready to leave.

Behind him, Jeno snorts derisively. “Do you really love her if you would let her go so easily?” he spits, eyes full of pain and fury. “Is that really love, Jaoel? Is that all she’s worth to you?”

Jaemin whips around, eyes ablaze. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I want her to die!” he yells.

“If you truly loved her, you’d want her to live as long as possible,” Jeno snarls back.

“This is what I hate about you angels!” Jaemin’s shouting, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the pain in his heart whenever he thinks about your smile and the sacrifice he has to make. “You always think everything can be perfect, but it can’t! Nothing can be perfect! No one, just because they are who they are, can live longer than they are supposed to! You can’t decide that!”

The angel snorts derisively. “And look at you,” he mocks, “all high and mighty because you think you’re doing the right thing. But should some lives not be preserved for as long as possible?” Tears brim in Jeno’s eyes and Jaemin can tell it’s taking all of his effort not to crumple into a crying mess, but the angel remains standing. “You can’t tell me you don’t believe she deserves it. No, not even her - you can’t tell me you’ve never met a single person who deserved to live longer than they did!”

Jaemin squeezes his eyes tight as he tries to shut away all the memories of you. But it doesn’t work. Your face flits through his mind. Your laugh, your smile, your eyes. The way you cry. The way you shout with joy. The way you clasp his hand in yours, grinning as bright as the sun.

He remembers the way you looked in the hospital, paler, weaker, but with a smile still bright enough to light up the entire room, and Jaemin knows that if there was anyone he knew that deserved to live longer, that would be you.

The demon finally looks up, all signs of his usual flirtatious smile gone. His eyes bore into Jeno’s, which are teary and full of pain. Jaemin’s heart does ache for him, because he knows now just how much Jeno loves you.

But you love Jaemin. You chose him. And there’s nothing he nor Jeno can do to change that.

“Do you think I want her to die?” he whispers. “Do you really think I want her to die?”

Jeno doesn’t speak.

“Life is only precious because there is death. The only thing people can do is treasure life as long they have it,” Jaemin says, practically choking on his words. He latches onto them, grasps them like a drowning man with a rope because they have to be true. If they aren’t, he… he doesn’t know. He will have chosen sides for nothing. Lost half of everything important to him over nothing.

Watched you die for nothing.

“Then,” Jeno says quietly, voice still carrying like a gunshot, “shouldn’t people have it longer?”

Jaemin swallows hard. “If that is so, Jael, then why aren’t humans immortal?”

Silence.

“Part of loving someone is knowing when you must let them go,” he whispers.

. . . . .

Love is tragic.

. . . . .

Jaemin freezes upon entering your room. Jeno does as well. You look between the two boys, a weak, amused smile twitching your lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jaemin replies cautiously. “Why’s he here?”

“We were discussing things,” Jeno says shortly. Surprised, Jaemin turns to him, not having expected him to answer. “Can you leave us for a bit?”

Reluctant, Jaemin looks at you, but the content expression on your face convinces him to leave. Outside in the hall, he waits impatiently, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor. Then, the door opens and almost knocks him flat.

Jeno looks at him blankly. “Sorry.” He then starts to walk off.

“Hey!” Jaemin snaps. “What were you talking about in there?”

The angel’s back tenses, but he does turn around. “I was giving her some closure. About me.”

It’s Jaemin’s turn to tense, and he has to force himself to remain calm.

“Don’t worry.” Jeno laughs a little, mirthlessly. “She still loves you.”

Looking down that hospital hall, Jaemin feels a twinge in his heart. A twinge of pity. His shoulders untense and he looks into Jeno’s eyes which, for once, are not angry. Only sad. Upset. A little hopeless.

And Jaemin finds it in his heart to say something to Jeno that he never thought he’d say, ever since he left the white purity of heaven for the dark flames of hell.

“I’m sorry.”

The angel’s eyes widen, and ever so slightly, they soften.

“Don’t be.”

“But I am.”

It’s not just about you. It’s about everything else. Betraying his friend. Leaving heaven. And maybe the bad blood will never be cleared between them, but at least he knows he apologized.

Jaemin bites his lip, hoping his eyes can convey everything he’s leaving unsaid. For ten long, agonizing seconds, the two boys stare at each other, unblinking. Then Jeno nods slightly.

“And I am too.”

He turns around and continues walking until he disappears into another corridor. When Jaemin’s sure that Jeno won’t come back, he lets himself into your room again.

“Finally, I was about to call for you!” you exclaim as Jaemin sits on the chair next to your bed. “I thought you and Jeno were having a fistfight out there or something, you were gone for so long.”

Jaemin smiles a little. “Not fighting. Just… talking.”

“From your expression I take that it went well,” you comment, looking up at him.

Jaemin shrugs, but the smile doesn’t fade. “I guess it did.”

. . . . .

Love is loss.

. . . . .

Jaemin is with you when you die. He is there, holding your hand with a grip invisible to everyone but you and him. He is there, watching the heart monitor become slower. He is there, listening to your breaths become fewer and fewer. He is there, pressing a last, soft kiss to your lips, and he is there, feeling your tiny sigh of content against his face, seeing the slight flutter of your eyelashes as you make an effort to look at him, hearing the faint ‘I love you’ that passes your lips.

A few hours pass. Your family and friends congregate in the room, watching you sadly, not noticing the demon in the room. And then the heart monitor goes flat.

You’re dead.

You’re dead, and everything hurts.

For two days, Jaemin locks himself in his room, alternately crying and staring into space. Your name on his wrist has faded away completely. It’s as though you never existed. But of course, he knows you did.

Why do I get this fate? Jaemin wonders. Even Chenle got a happy ending. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he begrudges the fallen angel slightly for his newfound freedom to spend the rest of eternity with the risen demon he loves.

Why?

What did I do to deserve this?

It’s selfish, he knows. Jeno must be suffering just as much as him. But at least he might find you in heaven, whereas Jaemin isn’t sure if you’d give up heaven to come to hell.

It ends up being Jisung who drags Jaemin out of his bed and to the field where they talked before with Haechan. It seems like ages ago.

They don’t talk much. Jaemin mostly stares blankly into space while Jisung sits next to him, just as a pillar of support. Jaemin doesn’t cry.

Jisung takes Jaemin to a convenience store. Together, they order cups of noodles, then sit at a table in silence. When the food arrives, it takes a lot of effort for Jaemin to swallow it down. Everything still hurts.

When they finally leave the store, a familiar figure is walking down the street. Hands tucked into his pockets, eyes downcast, dressed in dark clothes, Jeno makes his way slowly to the two demons, seemingly not even registering their presence. As they pass, though, he looks up slightly, and he shares a look with Jaemin.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, too.

A moment of understanding passes between the two, and then Jeno turns away, ending the moment almost as soon as it began. With a sigh, Jaemin turns back to Jisung and together, the two of them melt into the shadows.

. . . . .

Love always finds its way back.

. . . . .

“Jaemin, Lucifer wants to see you,” Mark says.

“I don’t want to see him.” After the king of hell told him to stop wasting time with you and to get back to work, later flogging him for disregarding his orders, Jaemin hasn’t seen him since. And he likes it that way.

Mark shrugs in sympathy. “You can’t ignore him though.”

Jaemin smiles mirthlessly. “Bet.”

“No, I don’t bet,” Mark says firmly. “Now go.”

A heavy sigh leaves Jaemin’s lips, but he nods. “Fine.”

Jaemin’s will to continue weakens with every step he takes, but after what seems like an eternity, he finally ends up in front of the throne room. The flaming doors greet him as per usual, hissing and screaming with the pain of eternities of souls trapped in eternal punishment. Unfazed, he waits for the doors to open.

“Jaemin.” Lucifer’s voice booms as the demon kneels and bows his head.

“My lord.” Jaemin bites his lip.

“You may rise.” As Jaemin stands up, head still bowed, Lucifer continues. “We have a new member in our ranks. I would like you to train her and act as her mentor until she grasps things.”

With his head bowed, Jaemin can only see the new demon’s feet as she walks across the floor. He lifts his head, ready to greet her, then stumbles backwards in shock.

Jaemin barely remembers seeing you with your skin looking so healthy, with your eyes so bright, with your smile so wide and exhilarating and full of joy. But that’s how you look, standing mere inches in front of him.

He’s so shell-shocked that he barely remembers to bow to Lucifer. “I will teach her as best I can,” Jaemin says, voice trembling with overwhelming emotion. He looks into his king’s eyes of flaming pits and sees, amidst the flames, a touch of feeling.

Just as quickly as he saw it, it is gone, but Jaemin knows his eyes didn’t lie. He makes a last deep bow of gratitude, and then Lucifer waves you two out of the room. The second the doors slam shut, Jaemin’s arms are around you and yours are around him as you clutch each other for dear life. Little choked noises escape your throats and neither of you can string together a coherent sentence, but words are unneeded. Jaemin can only clutch you tighter and tighter, unable to believe that this is truly happening.

“How?” he finally manages, loosening his grip slightly so he can look into your eyes. They’re teary and a little red, but you look as beautiful as ever. “I… we only managed to escape from heaven after months of planning. How did you…?”

You wipe your eyes. “Jeno,” you say. “Jeno helped me.”

A whole rush of emotions hit Jaemin at once, as though someone’s just punched him in the stomach. Overwhelming surprise, wariness, and gratitude fill his throat and all he can come up with is a startled, choked noise. “Jeno?”

There’s a hint of sadness in your eyes as you nod. “Yes.”

Maybe Jeno didn’t do it for Jaemin. Maybe he did it just for you. That’s highly likely, and Jaemin almost believes it. But some tiny part of him wonders if maybe, just maybe, Jeno did it for him. At least partially.

He thinks that might be the case. It makes him smile, just a bit. 

As he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your lips with a raw fervor that almost lifts you up off your feet, he thanks his former best friend. He thanks the universe for aligning the two of you together. He thanks Lucifer for allowing you in, for allowing him to mentor you.

And he thanks his lucky stars that you could ever love a demon such as him.

[theskyrimlibrary]

A Dance in Fire, v1

A Dance in Fire Chapter 1

by Waughin Jarth

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

Scene: The Imperial City, Cyrodiil Date: 7 Frost Fall, 3E 397

It seemed as if the palace had always housed the Atrius Building Commission, the company of clerks and estate agents who authored and notarized nearly every construction of any note in the Empire. It had stood for two hundred and fifty years, since the reign of the Emperor Magnus, a plain-fronted and austere hall on a minor but respectable plaza in the Imperial City. Energetic and ambitious middle-class lads and ladies worked there, as well as complacent middle-aged ones like Decumus Scotti. No one could imagine a world without the Commission, least of all Scotti. To be accurate, he could not imagine a world without himself in the Commission.

“Lord Atrius is perfectly aware of your contributions,” said the managing clerk, closing the shutter that demarcated Scotti’s office behind him. “But you know that things have been difficult.”

“Yes,” said Scotti, stiffly.

“Lord Vanech’s men have been giving us a lot of competition lately, and we must be more efficient if we are to survive. Unfortunately, that means releasing some of our historically best but presently underachieving senior clerks.”

“I understand. Can’t be helped.”

“I’m glad that you understand,” smiled the managing clerk, smiling thinly and withdrawing. “Please have your room cleared immediately.”

Scotti began the task of organizing all his work to pass on to his successor. It would probably be young Imbrallius who would take most of it on, which was as it should be, he considered philosophically. The lad knew how to find business. Scotti wondered idly what the fellow would do with the contracts for the new statue of St Alessia for which the Temple of the One had applied. Probably invent a clerical error, blame it on his old predecessor Decumus Scotti, and require an additional cost to rectify.

“I have correspondence for Decumus Scotti of the Atrius Building Commission.”

Scotti looked up. A fat-faced courier had entered his office and was thrusting forth a sealed scroll. He handed the boy a gold piece, and opened it up. By the poor penmanship, atrocious spelling and grammar, and overall unprofessional tone, it was manifestly evident who the writer was. Liodes Jurus, a fellow clerk some years before, who had left the Commission after being accused of unethical business practices.

“Dear Sckotti, 

I emagine you alway wondered what happened to me, and the last plase you would have expected to find me is out in the woods. But thats exactly where I am. Ha ha. If your’e smart and want to make lot of extra gold for Lord Atrius (and yourself, ha ha), youll come down to Vallinwood too. If you have’nt or have been following the politics hear lately, you may or may not know that ther’s bin a war between the Boshmer and there neighbors Elswere over the past two years. Things have only just calm down, and ther’s a lot that needs to be rebuilt.

Now Ive got more business than I can handel, but I need someone with some clout, someone representing a respected agencie to get the quill in the ink. That somone is you, my fiend. Come G meat me at the M’ther Paskos Tavern in Falinnesti, Vallinwood. Ill be here 2 weeks and you wont be sorrie.

- - Jurus

P.S.: Bring a wagenload of timber if you can.”

“What do you have there, Scotti?” asked a voice.

Scotti started. It was Imbrallius, his damnably handsome face peeking through the shutters, smiling in that way that melted the hearts of the stingiest of patrons and the roughest of stonemasons. Scotti shoved the letter in his jacket pocket.

“Personal correspondence,” he sniffed. “I’ll be cleared up here in a just a moment.”

“I don’t want to hurry you,” said Imbrallius, grabbing a few sheets of blank contracts from Scotti’s desk. “I’ve just gone through a stack, and the junior scribes hands are all cramping up, so I thought you wouldn’t miss a few.”

The lad vanished. Scotti retrieved the letter and read it again. He thought about his life, something he rarely did. It seemed a sea of gray with a black insurmountable wall looming. There was only one narrow passage he could see in that wall. Quickly, before he had a moment to reconsider it, he grabbed a dozen of the blank contracts with the shimmering gold leaf ATRIUS BUILDING COMMISSION BY APPOINTMENT OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY and hid them in the satchel with his personal effects.

The next day he began his adventure with a giddy lack of hesitation. He arranged a sear in a caravan bound for Valenwood, the single escorted conveyance to the southeast leaving the Imperial City that week. He had scarcely hours to pack, but he remembered to purchase a wagonload of timber.

“It will be extra gold to pay for a horse to pull that,” frowned the convoy head.

“So I anticipated,” smiled Scotti with his best Imbrallius grin.

Ten wagons in all set off that afternoon through the familiar Cyrodilic countryside. Past fields of wildflowers, gently rolling woodlands, friendly hamlets. The clop of the horses’ hooves against the sound stone road reminded Scotti that the Atrius Building Commission constructed it. Five of the eighteen necessary contracts for its completion were drafted by his own hand.

“Very smart of you to bring that wood along,” said a gray-whiskered Breton man next to him on his wagon. “You must be in Commerce.”

“Of a sort,” said Scotti, in a way he hoped was mysterious, before introducing himself: “Decumus Scotti.”

“Gryf Mallon,” said the man. “I’m a poet, actually a translator of old Bosmer literature. I was researching some newly discovered tracts of the Mnoriad Pley Bar two years ago when the war broke out and I had to leave. You are no doubt familiar with the Mnoriad, if you’re aware of the Green Pact.”

Scotti thought the man might be speaking perfect gibberish, but he nodded his head.

“Naturally, I don’t pretend that the Mnoriad is as renowned as the Meh Ayleidion, or as ancient as the Dansir Gol, but I think it has a remarkable significance to understanding the nature of the merelithic Bosmer mind. The origin of the Wood Elf aversion to cutting their own wood or eating any plant material at all, yet paradoxically their willingness to import plantstuff from other cultures, I feel can be linked to a passage in the Mnoriad,” Mallon shuffled through some of his papers, searching for the appropriate text.

To Scotti’s vast relief, the carriage soon stopped to camp for the night. They were high on a bluff over a gray stream, and before them was the great valley of Valenwood. Only the cry of seabirds declared the presence of the ocean to the bay to the west: here the timber was so tall and wide, twisting around itself like an impossible knot begun eons ago, to be impenetrable. A few more modest trees, only fifty feet to the lowest branches, stood on the cliff at the edge of the camp. The sight was so alien to Scotti and he found himself so anxious about the proposition of entering the wilderness that he could not imagine sleeping.

Fortunately, Mallon had supposed he had found another academic with a passion for the riddles of ancient cultures. Long into the night, he recited Bosmer verse in the original and in his own translation, sobbing and bellowing and whispering wherever appropriate. Gradually, Scotti began to feel drowsy, but a sudden crack of wood snapping made him sit straight up.

“What was that?”

Mallon smiled: “I like it too. ‘Convocation in the malignity of the moonless speculum, a dance of fire --’”

“There are some enormous birds up in the trees moving around,” whispered Scotti, pointing in the direction of the dark shapes above.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Mallon, irritated with his audience. “Now listen to how the poet characterizes Herma-Mora’s invocation in the eighteenth stanza of the fourth book.”

The dark shapes in the trees were some of them perched like birds, others slithered like snakes, and still others stood up straight like men. As Mallon recited his verse, Scotti watched the figures softly leap from branch to branch, half-gliding across impossible distances for anything without wings. They gathered in groups and then reorganized until they had spread to every tree around the camp. Suddenly, they plummeted from the heights.

“Mara!” cried Scotti. “They’re falling like rain!”

“Probably seed pods,” Mallon shrugged, not turning around. “Some of the trees have remarkable - - “

The camp erupted into chaos. Fires burst out in the wagons, the horses wailed from mortal blows, casks of wine, fresh water, and liquor gushed their contents to the ground. A nimble shadow dashed past Scotti and Mallon, gathering sacks of grain and gold with impossible agility and grace. Scotti had only one glanced at it, lit up by a sudden nearby burst of flame. It was a sleek creature with pointed ears, wide yellow eyes, mottled pied fur and a tail like a whip.

“Werewolf,” he whimpered, shrinking back.

“Cathay-raht,” groaned Mallon. “Much worse. Khajiti cousins or some such thing, come to plunder.”

“Are you sure?”

As quickly as they struck, the creatures retreated, diving off the bluff before the battlemage and knight, the caravan’s escorts, had fully opened their eyes. Mallon and Scotti ran to the precipice and saw a hundred feet below the tiny figures dash out of the water, shake themselves, and disappear into the wood.

“Werewolves aren’t acrobats like that,” said Mallon. “They were definitely Cathay-raht. Bastard thieves. Thank Stendarr they didn’t realize the value of my notebooks. It wasn’t a complete loss.”

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

[scouts-mockingbird]

Lifeboat/ Shine a Light (Reprise)

Intro,Beautiful, Candy Store, Fight For Me, Freeze Your Brain, Big Fun Part One, Big Fun Part Two, Dead Girl Walking Part One, Dead Girl Walking Part Two, Dead Girl Walking Part Three, The Me Inside of Me Part One, The Me Inside of Me Part Two, Blue Part One, Blue Part Two, Blue (Reprise), Our Love is God, Dead Gay Son, Seventeen, Shine a Light

OKAY So, I said in the last post that Heather McNamara should have an interlude in that song where she breaks down, and runs out of the gym, humiliated, after which Heather Duke and Flemming finish the song. Veronica runs after her for the next scene, which, contrasted with the many loud musical numbers I’ve discussed, is quiet and spoken only. 

HOWEVER. Since I’ve been doing these for every song, and I’m sure someone would be big mad that I skipped this, I’m not going to. I’m going to knock them both out at once though because I’m getting frustrated with writing these and also these scenes are technically supposed to go together (but not enough to make them one number???) 

To switch things up, I’m going to get to the positive stuff later and start ripping into this now. So. Honestly, I think this sequence is really, really awkwardly done. I just rewatched the whole thing and found it very jarring and clumsy. I see what they were going for, but I think they had two ideas and couldn’t decide so they tried to do both and it’s like frosting cake with jello, it just doesn’t work. Beyond the odd tonal choices (more on that later) is the whole entire framing issue. I flipped a coin and we’re starting with the framing. 

Lifeboat is…. Honestly I hate it. I cannot get over the freakish romanticizing of it, the alarming key switch, the way it comes out of fucking nowhere in terms of Heather’s characterization. It really doesn’t work on a lot of levels. Let’s break it down. 

Romanticizing suicide. They really wanted a soft depressed sad song in here, and totally failed to understand that Heathers is not the vehicle for that and even if it was, Heather McNamara is not the character for it.  You just get this feeling that they heard about Heathers and figured they could write a song like this that would make depressed teenagers everywhere go apeshit and buy tickets or the cast album. It’s… really obvious capitalizing on a serious thing. And don’t get me wrong, relatable isn’t bad by default. I’m not mad that you, a depressed teenager, heard this song and found it accurate, I’m mad that these two hacks wrote a song with that as the intention, rather than writing a song to be appropriate for the character and the musical, which might just turn out to be accurate and relatable (See We Are the Tigers). 

The key switch. Kinda the only musically interesting thing this song has going for it is the key change that happens after the first verse. And it doesn’t work. Not to bring better musicals into this, but Before the Breakdown from We Are the Tigers has what this song wants. It does the SUDDENLY WE ARE LOUD thing very well, because it’s brief and it’s punchy. It works. This song doesn’t work because it just hits you with this LOUD AND FEELINGS thing, but never effectively. It’s so much that I think it distracts from the lyrics, which honestly might have been able to make a point about… idk something. 

Heather’s Character. This song comes out of nowhere.  Up to this point, we don’t get much in the way of characterization for HM and y’know that’s alright, she’s not a huge presence in the film either, but Movie Heather’s suicide kind of tracks, because nothing about her character shifts or changes for it. She was bored and aloof during all her other scenes and she’s bored and aloof during her suicide attempt. It works. This song is too huge of a jump with no setup, all for the sake of writing this sad, tragic song that has no place here and undercuts the themes of the movie. 

For the above reasons and several others, I think this song should just get cut, with an interlude added to “Teenaged Suicide (Don’t Do It)” for Heather to confess her feelings before fleeing the room. Fixed. 

Some of you might be sitting there thinking, but wait, I thought she was going to talk about Shine a Light (reprise) too?” I am. 

Shine a Light Reprise is a dumb exercise in shrill noise  that serves only to demonize the only WoC in the show and make it even easier for people to misinterpret her character. You want a hallucination for Heather in this scene? Heather Chandler makes much more sense, put her in it if you insist, though I (again) do not think this scene needs a song, and in fact think it would be smarter not to show anything until Veronica arrives, because she’s pretty consistently a POV character but then really randomly not for about three scenes in the musical and that bothers me. 

The last thing I want to say is this one little positive thing that I skipped over in the beginning. I know people relate to this song. I know there are tons of people who have heard this and thought it said what they felt better than they’ve been able to. I don’t want to take that from anyone. If this song helped you through a hard time, I’m glad. I’m glad you got through it and you’re here reading this now. That’s valuable, even if this song is bad and out of character and out of place in this show, I am glad it helped some people. 

[rissa-posts]

Favorite quotes from each episode season 1

1: Echos of Thunder (first of all- the more you think of it, the more chilling this episode title is)

-"In the old times, there were only the six primal sources of magic: The Sun. The Moon. The Stars. The Earth. The Sky. And The Ocean."

What a way to set up the world. Just enough information to explain that there is a magic system, but it doesn't infodump you with rules. Also the animation timing and Aaravos narrating makes it an amazing shot.

-(after Callum stops Claudia from running into a tree) "You're no fun"

This depiction of siblings is just so accurate.

-"You let him live, but you've killed us all."

This sent chills down my spine the first time and all the times after that. It reminds me so much of the Trolly problem. Sparing Marcos is a great way to introduce Rayla, but it led to her teammates getting killed and her father figure being captured.

2: What is done

-"I brought you because you're talented. Maybe the fastest and strongest of any of us. But it takes more than that. There's an instinct. A moment of truth. And in that moment, you hesitate."

This is another that really brings out Rayla's characterization without showing you much. It tells you very well that she is able to fight, but not willing to kill.

-"Yesterday, I had two eggs for breakfast and I was starving. Today I had four eggs and I'm stuffed. So, tomorrow-" "Three eggs, I get it. We don't need to talk." "I was going to say two eggs and one sausage."

Come on. This was hilarious. Also- the introduction of female side characters just being there instead of a bunch of copy-paste male guards.

-"There are centuries of history. Generations of wrongs and crimes. On both sides. I am responsible for some of those wrongs."

Enter the grey morals of the world. There is no clear cut good and evil. Just a war because both sides believe the other is in the wrong.

-"I am Prince Ezran."

Callum! Loves! His! Brother!

3: Moonrise

-"If I told you, you would try to stop me." "So, shouldn't I just try to stop you then, even without knowing?" "Goodbye, Claudia"

This is literally the one scene that makes me question if something happened to him when he talks to Viren. Before, he was decent, even with deranged morals. After, though, he is just evil.

-"It's not a weapon. It's an egg!"

This brilliantly show the difference in how the elves and humans view dragon. The humans see them as weapons because dragons defended the border against them. The elves see them as just other creatures because dragons worked with them.

-"But if today is my last day as king, you will know your place."

Before, I saw Harrow as the wise king (especially because he was able to admit his mistakes in ep 2). But here, you can see that he is also powerful, someone you do not want to mess with.

-"I will kill you." "Probably."

Rayla rushing into battle to protect the princes? Yes please! (I would say to protect the egg, but Runaan would not have hurt the egg)

-"Say the word and I'll go back into that tower with you"

You mean, the exact moment I fell for Rayllum?

4: Bloodthirsty

-"Unbind yourself! Unbind... thyself. UNBINDO!"

Rayla you dork. (Also this quote was my first popular tumblr post, so it has a special place in my heart)

-"It is tradition to mourn fallen kings for seven sunsets. You've not even given him one."

Evil Viren... begins. Also Opeli is an amazing minor character.

-"Just no more detours, all right? Or heartfelt speeches."

Rayla was trying to kill Callum one day ago, and is now listening to him? Putting herself in danger for him? I love them so much

-"I don't believe in locks"

GREAT introduction for Amaya, I love her. Also, the way Gren said it with such enthusiasm even though he did have to makes me so happy!

-(in ASL) "He says, if we don’t let you go, you'll kill them and drink their blood"

This was pretty heartless of Callum. But it got them out of that situation I guess. But like, poor Rayla.

-"You called me a bloodthirsty monster. You have no idea how that feels." "But I don’t actually believe any of that."

It was still heartless, Callum. I'm glad this conversation took place though, it allows Callum to understand why what he did was wrong.

5: An Empty Throne (I'd like to start by saying this is by far my favorite episode)

-"Know what? I'm just gonna throw it." "What? No!" "Yeah, I'm gonna throw you the Primal Stone."

Is Callum channeling Sokka here or something? (Also this foreshadows the finale)

-"What? I have nice legs."

Ezran you are adorable!

-"Are you, like, this black-flippin', tree-climin', sword stabbin' elven worrior, but scared of a little splish-splashin'?"

Rayla: Nooo! that's what I'm sensitive about!

-"I am a servant of Katolis! I am a servant!" "Those are awfully nice clothes for a humble servant, Viren."

You tell him, Amaya! What a way to shut down Viren! I'm here for sassy Amaya.

-"I admit it. I hate water. I'm afraid of it. It makes me sick. All of the bad feelings."

I just love how Rayla decides she can tell Callum and Ez these things. She trusts them so much I-- I love her so much.

-"Come on, Rayla, do it for the frog. The grumpy frog that hates you."

Rayla protecting Bait for Ezran! Even though she is afraid! How can you not say that is cute!

-Amaya's sign language to the statue and Gren

You don’t have to know exactly what she is saying to know what she is saying. I love the show for being able to convey that so well.

-(kicks boat away) "Goodbye, boat."

Callum respecting Rayla's fear? I'm here for it!

6: Through the Ice

-"They're not prisoners. They choose to Travel with me."

I know no one is going to believe her, but it is true. Also, I believe this sentence is why Corvus doesn't attack them again and instead helps. He decided to watch them and see if it was true.

-"You are to return with the terrible news that both the princes have died."

Aka the exact moment Viren became an irredeemable villan to me.

-"I'm habsolutly hurious."

Rayla has my exact sense of humor! I laugh so hard at this every time!

-"if you have to choose, choose the egg"

Viren was already irredeemable. This just dug the ditch deeper.

-"Because it has to come from you. Human Princes, returning the egg to the Dragon Queen. That's the gesture that matters. That could end the war, and change the world."

This is so true. Rayla doesn't want to be a hero, she wants this war to end. Just like Callum.

-"He'll get it. He'll save the egg. We have to believe in him... He's brave and strong. He can do this."

This is so wholesome. Rayla believes in Ez so much! I love how there is no bias of 'hes just a kid.' He is capable in Rayla's eyes.

7: The Dagger and the Wolf

-"She's beautiful. She's your mother?"

Rayla simultaneously hints that she is bi and flirts with Callum. Indirectly calling him beautiful. (I don’t care if it is a reach).

-"Get ready to meet... Human!Rayla!"

Rayla is such a dork oh my gosh.

-"If I fail, I don’t know what dad will do to me!"

I feel so bad for Soren. This, to me, solidify that Claudia is the favorite.

-"You're one of them!"

Hearing a human call elves 'them' hit me so hard.

-"Just take the dagger! Don't hurt me, please!" "I'm not going to hurt you. And I'm not going to steal from you, either."

I was hoping this would make dagger guy rethink his beliefs.Unfortunately, he raised a mob instead.

-"If only... I weren't... so muscular."

Soren, I love you.

8: Cursed Caldera

-"Wait I've got it! Flash! Woof! Whoosh! Slish-Slash!"

This was big Sokka energy don’t lie.

-"No way. That won't work. This is my slish hand." "Uh, really?" "No, not really, dummy."

Callum having to clarify if she was joking or not gave me life.

-I'm going to have a whole post about the children encouraging Callum and Rayla.

-"That mirror? You have found something worse that death."

This foreshadows Aaravos, sure. But it also foreshadows how potentially powerful/dangerous he really is. And we haven't seen Aaravos in action all that much!

9: Wonderstorm

-"You might say it's... the Kaltallest."

Puns! I love Puns!

-"I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Callum admitting he was wrong says so much about their relationship. And the jerkface dance! Callum is willing to do it even if he was embarrassed!

-"I know what I have to do."

Callum gave up his magic for the egg! After an entire season of him being excited to be a mage, this honestly surprised me. His sacrifice is huge.