#much better to bring the cops in to it; a group we can certainly trust not to turn on us and misuse any new powers given

[medicinemane]

You can't just be like "well my chart here says" or "well science says" or "well this thing agrees with my biases so therefore it's true"

Like man, I bet I could find something agreeing with any position I wanted to take. If I couldn't it wouldn't be hard for me to make a semi professional looking graph that makes it look like whatever I want is true

Also like... who's the source man, cause on any given issue there's some I'm probably gonna toss out because of their blatant bias. Like I'm not even gonna entertain anything 'autism speaks' has to say on autism because I'm not wading through a bunch of trash to see if there's a glimmer of truth buried somewhere in it. They've blown all their credibility with me, I don't admit them as evidence anymore and nor should I

So who's your source and do they have any credibility or are they extremely biased (cause... this happens a lot)?

What's this so called study? What's this so called science? I am not really the person who can sit through a whole paper, but I can at least sometimes give them a sniff and see if the stuff they're saying seems to add up or if I'm spotting anything instantly off (cause sometimes you straight up look and go "wait a minute... you didn't even account for this")

I'm not perfect, but at least I actually think about the problems with ideas I care about. Like with nuclear I know that the lack of economies of scale means infrastructure is going to be more expensive, but I can also at least point to solar and point out that it was the same with it, but once we got wider adoption prices started to really drop

At least I can think about my point and make actual reasonable inferences and conclusions rather than just blindly screaming at everyone to agree with me or they're immoral

[rrickgrrimes8]

Can I get rick grimes x gender neutral reader

The reader was an elite solider in the U.S army when the virus happened. They been traveling the South for five ½ years alone. So now they landed in Georgia when the Saviors and Rick Group are at war. One day Rick is attacked by the Saviors, but the reader saves Rick from the Saviors with a rifle but escapes before Rick ever notices. Days later the reader meets Rick (like how Jesus met Rick.) But Rick captures the reader and interrogates him. In the end Reader reveals how he saved Rick. Rick then forces the reader work/live with the group even though the real.

A Soldier ~ Rick Grimes imagine

hey sorry for the delay ive been super busy coz i just started school back after isolating and i’ve been doing exams all week

also for anyone else who requested i’ll try and complete them soon really sorry please remember i haven’t forgotten about yall i’m just busy

anyways @iawaythrown hope you like this thank you for requesting

let me know if there’s any mistakes so i can fix it thank you x

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

The sun had set hours earlier but that didn’t stop you. Unrelenting you continued through the heat and the exhaustion. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after everything you had gone through. Even before this, you wouldn’t allow yourself to stop. Being one of America’s pride and joys serving as a respected sergeant. You had served 10 years before the world went to shit and it made you laugh now. You always thought that the meaning of your life - the purpose - was to protect and serve against threats to the U.S.A. If only you knew that your greatest threat was against the dead now living. You were grateful, more than anything. You had a lot more in this world than others did. And now 5 1/2 years later you were still going. Never stopping. Not for anything.

 Except... when you caught wind of a certain curly-haired man. He was being attacked and was substantially outmanned. You thought the best use of your time was to protect people just like you had in your previous life. The man was cornered now by the time you’d made the decision to help him. Three men dressed in leather charged him with any weapon they could find. He fought against them - to the best of his ability. Which seemed to be skilled at least. You gripped your trusty rifle, aimed the scope and without hesitation fired. 

One man fell. 

Then the next. 

And then the last. 

The blue-eyed man scoured the area for you, curious about the location of the shots. You, however, were smarter than that. You didn’t know this man. You didn’t know if he deserved what those men would’ve done to him but you did know trust is to be earned in this world not given carelessly. You ducked away out of his vision. But you never strayed far from the man. 

You could say curiosity got the better of you. Naturally and from a very young age, you’d always pester, investigate, fight for answers when they really weren’t warranted. Your mom used to tell you how curiosity killed the cat but you preferred to say it saved the cat. Being curious never hurt anyone and it certainly came as an advantage to you. When meeting people you knew how to hide, how to watch. And yes it may be creepy but it was necessary. You weren’t stupid, far from it, so why stop your ways now? 

The man didn’t return back to a camp after the attack - one that you knew he had due to his clean and well-presented appearance. He continued through the area, meeting up with a tall brooding man accompanied with a crossbow. The two seemed close. Although despite how few words conversed between them, you knew they were. If either of them fell into some trouble the other protected. They were family - maybe not blood - but no doubt in your mind we’re they like brothers. 

It had been days now and these men were still on their run. By this time you were even doubting if this was worth it but you shook off the thoughts and continued. It wasn’t your intention to draw attention to yourself. Hell, it was something you were taught against. But it happened. You, rather carelessly, stumbled across them. It all happened so fast. You saw someone in the woods - walker maybe. But at that moment you decided against your inner workings and ran. Stupidly you ran straight into this man. 

“Watch it,” He growled pushing you back slightly. They glared at you threateningly, guns were drawn. 

“Wha’ ta hell ya doin’?” The crossbowman snapped. His deep southern accent growing darker through his words. He was on edge. It being clear that interactions like this hadn’t always been a blessing. 

“Was just passing through. Calm yourself, alrigh’?” 

Unimpressed he looked to the blue-eyed man who was fixed on your stance. “You looked in a hurry. Trouble heading this way?” The man inquired warily. 

“Nah not really,” You paused looking back to the area, “Well maybe I'm not sure.” 

“Not sure? What's back there?” He looked at you suspiciously hand still grasped around his colt python. You didn't say anything to them as a sound overcame the atmosphere. It sounded like a twig, perhaps just a wondering dead but they didn't see the rational side. "Who are you? Who are you with?" The blue-eyed man barked edging the pistol closer to your face. 

"Hey, chill man. My names y/n, alright? And I'm not with anyone. I'm on my own, okay?" The men shared a look before turning back to you unbelievingly. You opened your mouth to justify your case but was interrupted by a smack to the side of your head. You fell to the ground, gazing at the two men still.

And then... nothing.

~

Hours later your eyes snapped open. Alert, you searched through the room. It was a cell. A traditional one with an iron gate. One you knew from past experience weren't the easiest to break out of. Especially after spotting a man floating around the exit. "Hello?" Your head burned as you spoke likely due to a concussion but you powered through it. The man stopped pacing and glared at you. He was a dark-skinned man, holding what looked like a stick. But the main thing was that he was clean. You had noticed earlier how the two men didn't look as ragged and dirty as you did. Telling you they had a home. Now seeing him proved it. 

"Hello," He said back, "Names Morgan, yours?" Your rational side shut your mouth for you. You didn't know these people. Hell, they kidnapped you. They didn't deserve your name. And you resented how you caved earlier and told those people. "Not much of a speaker, huh?" Again silence, "You didn't have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you." 

Begrudgingly you responded, "I'm not afraid of you." "Your not?" "No, I'm not. Not of you. Not of those men who brought me here. Not of anyone," Morgan almost laughed at your response. 

"You're quite brave, aren’t you?" You shrugged etching a smile on his face, "you'll fit right in here." 

"Who says I want to stay?" You countered. "I have a feeling," He smirked before another person entered the room. 

"They awake?" Morgan nodded and exited. 

The blue-eyed man from earlier entered your view. No words were exchanged between the two of you. You understood he still perceived you as a threat, which you knew you very well could be. You'd do what you have to. That's what you told yourself. After years of service to the army that swam around your mind like a mantra. You'd done some horrific things for your country now and before but you didn't let it rot you to the core like your comrades. You did what you had to. There was never an exception. So if these people decided to try something you'd do what you have to. 

"Who are you?" He interrogated swiftly. Telling you that this wasn't his first rodeo. He was a cop or maybe even in the army like you. 

"I already told you," Coldly you returned. 

"Yeah well, I don't believe you," He persisted. 

"I don't entirely know what you want me to do with that," you scoffed, "I can't force you to believe me. But I know my name. I know I'm alone. I know I don't mean to bring harm to your people unless I have to." 

The man grunted. He hated how he began to believe you slightly. "Why were you running then?" 

You sighed, "I was following you." 

"You were following us?" He growled, "Why?" 

"You were attacked. Those men I killed them," You revealed, "I was curious. So I followed you. I saw a walker or maybe it was a person... I don't know. I ran and bumped into you. That's all. I have no ulterior motive." 

"Just because you tell me you have no ulterior motive doesn't make me inclined to believe you," He let out a harsh breath. 

"What more do you want, huh? Want me to do a polygraph?" 

He chuckled, "No. Of course not. But I don't trust you." 

"So let me go," You promoted. 

"I can't do that," he shook his head erratically. 

"Why not?" 

"You're valuable. If what you say is true that you did save me. Then I... we can't let that go, alright?" 

You gaped at his confession, "So you're gonna force me to stay here?" 

"Not exactly... we'd prefer if you did from your own will but if we have to," He quirked his eyebrow at you, "What do you say?" 

Sarcastically you laughed at his proposition, "You're crazy." 

"No, I'm Rick. Rick Grimes. And this," Rick gestured to your surroundings, "is Alexandria. Hopefully your new home." 

"How do you know I'm not gonna kill you all in your sleep?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his naivety. 

"I have faith that you won't. I searched you when you were out," He went into his pocket pulling out a medal you had gotten for serving in Iraq, "A soldier? I was a sheriffs deputy myself and I know I wouldn't have it in me to kill all the people in here - the children. I know you wouldn't either." 

"You're right I wouldn't but... but we're not the same, Rick. We never will be," Rick tilted his head. 

"I know," He spoke honestly, "But I feel like we're similar. You'd do a lot to save someone you'd never met. That's someone we'd like in Alexandria. Y/n you saved me. And I know you can save a lot more. So what do you say?" 

You sighed moving closer to the cell door, "Okay."

[costellos]

author’s note: this wasn’t a request, just something super self-indulgent that I wanted to do! ❤⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ) also this ended up taking 2.5 hours to write aldkf;j so much for unwinding at the end of the day. overall, I’m super proud of how this came out — please enjoy!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang realizing that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati realizes he’s in love when he sees you defending civilians.

he is a man made of love. for his people, for his community, for his goals — he firmly believes that everyone and everything can be built on yes, but more importantly, taken care of.

he sees you protecting an elderly couple during a stand battle. in a split second do you throw your stand at the couple, taking a hefty amount of damage in their place. you’re bloody and your arm is definitely broken, but you still turn to them. "you need to leave. now,” you say. although your words are harsh and hoarse, your smile reminds them that yes, everything will be fine, I just need you to trust me.

you didn’t have to protect them. any other gangster would have left them to die. they’re old, no one would miss them.

but you did. you put these two strangers, two no ones at the wrong place at the wrong time, before yourself. even if it meant you’d die.

Bucciarati would visit you shortly after the battle. Giorno had already tended to your wounds, evident by your lack of bandages. his hair is normally neatly placed, but it looks like he had been rustling it, with his clips out of place and the braid atop his head uneven. his concern is apparent; he’s wracked his brain waiting for your recovery. you knew that Bucciarati cared about his team, but when did he care this much? ↳ “I admit, your actions were certainly reckless,” he would say to you, taking a seat beside your bed. “you’re lucky that fight didn’t end worse than it did. nonetheless...” his voice is tired yet soft, comforting. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m... I’m incredibly glad.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio realizes he’s in love when he sees you upholding true justice.

although he would never admit it, he is haunted by his inability to save his partner during his time as an officer. as such, Abbacchio envies those who back justice in spite of the system Italy lives under.

you’re patrolling one of La Passione’s turfs with him when you see it: two officers harassing a young girl. even though Abbacchio tells you not to get involved, you quickly storm over to the scene. their voices are loud and clear, despite them being several meters away. the girl looks scared.

it turns out she had stolen a handful of painkillers from the corner store. the cops noticed her scurrying out as they were buying a pack of smokes. and now, they were threatening to take her into the station. “I need them for my family!” she explains, but the cops don’t buy it. they huff something about her bringing them to school and selling them to her friends.

“here. I’ll pay for her. just leave her alone.” Abbacchio watches as you flash 30 euros to the cops, more than enough to pay for the medicine. playing them at their own game, he sees. thankfully, they relent, pocketing the money and leaving the scene. and after you talk to the girl, explaining that if she needs more help to come find you, you both leave the scene too.

it’s a brief affair. truthfully, he wouldn’t have gotten himself involved. he wishes you hadn’t either. it would’ve been less of a headache, and now that girl is going to pester you again in the future. but he can’t stop replaying the scene in this head. how you willingly stood up for her, reassured her that everything would be okay. how you smiled and looked so content after the fact. ↳ “ I envy you,” he would say as you walked away from the scene. “doing the right thing is...” he pauses. stupid? naive? “...it’s not easy. you didn’t have to do anything but I admire your valor. just don’t be surprised if that girl comes up at your doorstep begging for more money.” nonetheless, he wants to learn more from you. to be good again, he thinks. maybe then he can be someone that he himself is proud of. and maybe, eventually, he’ll make you proud too.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno realizes he’s in love when he sees your ambition.

he prides himself on his resolve. to him, resolve is committing to something regardless of the difficulties that a person faces. seeing you be so goal-oriented would make him believe that he’s found his match.

it doesn’t have to be a huge goal, like dedicating yourself to a field of practice or learning a new language. it can be as simple as trying to keep your houseplants alive. in fact, those little things come off as more charming to him. it shows that you’re passionate about everything you do, no matter what it is.

seeing you continuously try despite numerous failures would make Giorno’s heart pound. you refuse to give up. even with everything against you, you still roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and pick yourself up again. he adores this about you.

he realizes it when you’re rambling about your next move in your goals. your face is so excited, your eyes so wide and bright. your mouth is voicing your steps a million words a minute but all he can focus on is how beautiful you look. the smile on his lips is unmistakable. ↳ “tell me more. I want to know everything. tell me about every detail, every step, what you’ll do when you’re finished... all of it.” he won’t say it — after all, he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate — but he wants to be there every step of the way with you. and when you’ve completed your goal, he wants to be the one next to you, the one to say, “I am so, so proud of you.”

guido mista.

Mista realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his jokes.

life should be simple. that’s the mantra he lives by. despite being a gangster, he just wants to have a simple life filled with simple pleasures. one of those ways is through telling stories.

it happens when the group is eating dinner at a local restaurant. Mista is telling some long-winded anecdote, something about how he heroically beat up a landlord for harassing his tenants over money. at the end, it turned out to be the set up for a really brief and really stupid punchline.

everyone is looking at him. “ah? ahhhh?” he muses, but no one responds. the silence in the air is unbearable. hm. wow. is it hot in here or what? finally, Narancia breaks the silence, muttering that he doesn’t get it. Fugo tells him that Mista could have made the joke so much shorter. Bucciarti exhales quickly from his nostrils, a half-assed attempt at laughing. Giorno and Abbacchio don’t say anything.

but then you. oh, you. it takes you a moment to get it, but when you do, your giggling disrupts the awkwardness. it sounds like bells, Mista thinks. sweet bells, ringing like how they used to at the church every Sunday morning in his hometown. it makes him feel warm, welcome, and he can’t help but feel his face flush when he hears your laughing.

Mista stays in place afterwards, pushing his white beans to and fro on his plate. he’s not hungry anymore. he keeps looking up at you, and while he had acknowledged you were attractive before, something about you was now beautiful. you were happy here, with your eyes bright and your smile wide. eventually, he would say: ↳ “hey, thanks for covering me back there. those guys never laugh at anything I say.” he rolls his eyes playfully, adding a slight shrug of his shoulders. “lemme make it up to you. what can I do for you?” he’s trying to be smooth, but he’s so giddy at the prospect at spending more time with you!

narancia ghirga.

Narancia realizes he’s in love when you don’t lose your patience with him.

he doesn’t have much of a formal education. hence, critical thinking skills don’t come easy to him. he tries his best, he really does, but it’s difficult when he’s hardly flexed his brain.

he’s writing a song. nothing fancy, but music has always been a part of Narancia’s life that he wants to give it a go himself. maybe one day he’ll be a famous hip hop artist, touring across Europe and maybe even the U.S. one day! the thought makes him excited. but for now, he needs to establish the lyrics.

rap is easier said than done, though. Fugo is teasing him about his inability to write poetry — what makes Narancia think that he could write a whole song? he grits his teeth and turns back to his paper. 

that’s when you approach him. you sit down with him, asking him what he would like to write about. “oh, uh... growing up in the streets, I guess,” he mumbles. he’s taken aback by your help. plus, talking about it now makes him embarrassed. but you don’t judge him, no; you sit down with him and try to help him nail down the theme. and once you have that, you assist him in finding snappy lyrics and catchy rhymes. 

you don’t criticize him for his ideas. you don’t yell at him for his suggestions. you just listen and add on. the encounter is foreign, to say the least... but not unwelcome. Narancia finds your help incredibly productive (much better than Fugo could ever offer him). and the time goes by so fast! within a few hours, his song is done. yet he’s not happy... no, he starts to feel lonely the moment you stand up, off to assist Bucciarati with whatever he needs. ↳ “wait, hold on, [Name]!” shit. his voice is way too desperate. he softens it as best he can muster: “can... can we write another song sometime? I have a lot more ideas and I can’t do it without you.” fuck. he did it again. but when smile at him and nod, promising that you’ll help him hit the Top 40, Narancia can’t help but smile back.  

panacotta fugo.

Fugo realizes that he’s in love when you put him before yourself.

genius. prodigy. failure. Fugo is defined by how others see him. after his parents abandoned him for leaving an abusive establishment, he finds himself lost in the world. who is he? what is he worth?

he’s escorting you to your mission when his car is attacked by a rival gang. the assault is a blur. he can remember the car flipping over, tumbling off the road and into the Mediterranean Sea. it happens so fast. the salty water surrounding you both. the windshield cracking. the airbag goes off, suffocating him. he can’t see. he can’t breathe. and suddenly, it’s dark.

when he wakes up, he realizes that you’re both on the beach. “where are we?” he musters out. it hurts to talk. you hush him to take it easy, that he had most certainly broken a few ribs. and that’s when he sees it: when he looks down, his wounds are tended to. gashes have been tenderly wrapped in gauze and minor cuts treated with balm. a pain relief patch has been placed on his chest, no doubt where the air bag hit him. but when he looks at you, you’re bleeding through your bandages.

that’s right. there was a first aid kit in the car. based on his injuries, you spent the majority of supplies on him, even though you definitely had it just as bad. “why?” is all he can say.

why? you shake your head. “because you’re my friend,” you answer, adjusting the gauze on his wrist. “I’m taking care of you because you’re worth it.”

your words catch him by surprise. he doesn’t believe it, but... your face is honest enough. his thoughts are jumbled, as mixed as the sand and water at the shore just a few meters away. and when your hand touches his wrist... he shakes his own head.

↳ “you should’ve tended to yourself first.” his tongue tastes of nothing but blood and salt and his words show it. a beat, and gentler this time: “I appreciate your thinking of me. thank you.” that’s all he can say, at least for now. it hurts to much to talk, moreover think. so he places his hand over yours as a gesture of thanks. friends, huh? the idea before sounded laughable, but now... there was something warm about it. the answer to his question — who is he? — had come as quickly as the waves beneath him: a friend.

[lightskinrry]

no wedding for the bad boys

The one where the bachelor’s party doesn’t go according to the plan

A/N: hello cuties,,, after not writing for a while im back with some angsty shit!!!! i hope you guys like it and don’t hesitate to share your thoughts with me about this mess!!

Word Count: 5k

TW: a loooooot of alcohol; gambling and ANGST.

One of the things you liked so much about being the single friend was that you were always the one to keep the party alive. And now you were about to birth the best party of all times. Your best friend was getting married in two weeks and you were in charge of the bachelor’s party.

And with great power comes great responsibility, you had to plan everything and keep it a surprise. And if there was one thing you sucked at; it was keeping secrets, especially from Harry. He always had his way with you; it was hard keeping anything from him.

You couldn’t quite believe he was getting married. You watched him grow from a horny teenager to a beautiful and inspiring man. You saw him give his first concert in his mom’s living room and then watched him sold out arenas around the world.

You gave him his first kiss and helped him cheat his math tests and now you were his best-woman at his wedding. You helped him break up with his exes, held him while he cried, bringing him tequila and ice cream on bad days, making him laugh once the tears dried away. And he always did the same for you. And now you were gonna be by his side like you’ve always been on the most beautiful day of his life.

You had your little reluctance towards his future spouse. She was a beautiful and independent woman but you felt like you couldn’t see through her. Maybe because she entered into your lives not so long ago and you needed more time to get her. You could tell she didn’t like you much, anyway.

They’ve been together for less than a year and Harry “commitment issues” Styles proposed to her, to everybody’s surprise; even his own.

His mom tried to tell him that he had to be sure before pulling out such a great move. But he was so infatuated, it was too beautiful to bring him back to reality.

You didn’t want to interfere anyway so when he told you, despite your surprise and little bitterness; you supported him like a good friend.

He seemed so happy and into her, you didn’t want to let him know you didn’t trust his future wife or that to you all of this seemed premature. You also didn’t want your own feelings to balance his.

Anyway, you started planning the party ahead of time and everything was going rather well. Miss (future) Styles gave you some instructions and rules to follow regarding the party because Harry said you could do anything you wanted except if she wasn’t okay with it. So no strippers, no hookers, no clowns. Who would even bring a clown to a bachelor party? Well it seemed she didn’t want that anyway. She also said not too much alcohol and no drugs. She could’ve just tell you to cancel the party at that extent. But you had to give in to her commands...

Looked like you were about to organize a tea party for elderly people… Literally, bring out the cucumber sandwiches and put milk in your tea like these old rich british dudes.

You had to find a way to make a real bachelor party. Something huge and iconic; something legendary. You planned on giving Harry a Barney’s worthy type of party.

You thought about every outcomes that could make his future wife freak out. So you decided instead of staying too close to her, why not make a spontaneous move.

You met with the groomsmen and basically all yours and Harry’s friends that would be attending the party to make sure everyone was in with the plan and obviously said nothing to Harry.

You kept the secret until d-day.

You were waiting for him, wearing your red suit, in the lobby. “Harry, we’re leaving now, man. If you’re not out that door in 2, we’ll celebrate your party without you.”

He rushed through the hallway. “I’m right here. Ready to party like I’m already seventy.”

You told him about his bride-to-be restrictions concerning the party so he didn’t expect anything crazy. “No worries, baby. You still look young.”

It was a short ride to his favorite restaurant. You were driving, screaming-singing the lyrics to Got To Be Real and he was singing with you, taking breaks in his track to laugh with you. You parked in his usual spot and walked through the door, all your friends already sitting at the table, cheering when they saw the two of you walking in.

“Ah! Here he is! The man of the night!” Jeff stood to welcome Harry to the table.

You both took a sit and order a few drinks.

The evening went fast, you had great dinner, shared cuban cigars, good alcohol and had the best chocolate cake. Everything was moderate just like Tania asked; a fancy dinner in a fancy restaurant, not too much alcohol and nobody blacked out.... yet.

Harry stood, raising his glass to make a toast. “Thank you guys so much for tonight. I know we wanted to throw a rock’n’roll party…” He gave you a sly look. “But I appreciate that you took the time and care to give me a real grownup bachelor party.” He laughed a little. “I love you guys. I feel so lucky to have friends like you. So supportive and thoughtful. Thank you.”

All of you cheered on him. And one by one all of your friends left, claiming to be going home to their spouses. You and Harry were the last one to leave the restaurant. You stood next to the car, as Harry thanked the staff, waiting for him to come to you.

“So… I have a little surprise for you.” You gave him a sneaky smile.

“Oh god, this cannot be good.”

You smiled and pulled out a blindfold out of your pocket. He shook his head. “No. No. No. That doesn’t look good at all.”

You giggled and insisted. “C’mon. It’s your bachelor party. I promise it’s going to be fun but not too much.” You smiled. “Do you trust me?”

He sighed loudly… “Fine, Y/N. You better not throw me in the back of a truck or some kidnapping bullshit like that.”

You scoffed. “No worries.”

He closed his eyes and you put yourself behind him, placed the blindfold on his face and smiled contentedly. “Good. Now just follow me, baby. I got big plans for you.”

He laughed nervously and turned around to face you. “I feel like I might die tonight. But you know what? I trust you and your fucking crazy ideas. I knew you couldn’t just stop at dinner party and cigars.”

You gave him your best evil laugh and directed him to his seat in the car. You placed yourself in the driver seat, put on your playlist and drove.

After about 30 minutes driving and Harry complaining about the blindfold, you pulled over in the parking lot. You directed Harry through the airport, up until the gate of the plane. There all of your friends were waiting silently, smiling slyly.

“I can’t believe you convinced him.”

Harry turned around on himself. “Mitch?”

All your friends cheered to let him know they were all here.

“Fuck, so that was a group plan, huh? What did she convinced me to do? Because I can tell we’re in a airport, I’m not deaf and this is a bad plan, I can already tell. This is a bad plan.”

You all laughed and you gently stroked Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, when did I ever put you in a bad situation?”

“That time in Atlanta when we ended up-”

“This never happened. It was a fever dream. You know I would never put you in a bad situation.” You cut him in his track, remembering the misadventure.

“What about that night in NYC last year? I remember that basement, Y/N.”

“This wasn’t a bad situation, just a plan that kinda failed.”

He giggled before turning around again. “Okay, so what’s the plan that will most certainly fail today?”

“You get your ass on that plane and you’ll see!”

Harry sighed but with the help of everyone, he got on the plane. You took the blindfold off him and made sure to keep him busy during the flight.

After the pilot announced the destination, you watched Harry’s soul leave his body.

“Vegas? Fucking Vegas? You guys are all mad. Mad men. Does Tania even know?”

All of you gave him a big smile and said “Surprise!” in harmony.

“She doesn’t know. We’ll call her later. Just relax, mate.” Tom smiled at Harry and laid back in his seat.

Harry leaned in your ear and whispered. “She’s going to kill both of us, you know that?”

“Then we’ll both die after the best party of our lives.”

The flight was fun. You guys chattered and laughed. Harry was finally relaxing and giving into the mood. You couldn’t wait until you land to show him all you planned for tonight. But mostly all you didn’t plan; the best nights you spent with Harry were the ones that started without a plan. The ones that were supposed to be chilling at home. Actually even chilling at home turned into the best night. That was the thing; even the most boring shit can be amazing if you’re with the right people.

***

After landing and getting down from the plane, you lead Harry and all your friends to where the party was at; everywhere. You were painting the town red tonight.

You started with a few drinks in the lobby of the hotel, making your way downtown to a Casino just for the sake of being in Vegas, then you moved to a ballroom where a 30s theme party was going on. You sipped on Martinis and Manhattans until the fancy drinks were getting boring so you moved the group to a grunge club. Everybody was dancing and drinking and whatever else they found amusing. You could tell everyone was having fun, especially Harry.

Around 2AM some girl proposed to your group to come to her place cause she was throwing an after-party.  And obviously, everyone followed because following drunk strangers is fun.

You ended up at her place; all of y’all in a tiny apartment with some trash music and cheap alcohol, dancing and screaming until the neighbors called the cops for disturbance. So everyone, as drunk (and high for some) as they were, started leaving and running when the pigs showed up. You rolled with Harry, running through the night in the neighbourhood, laughing and breathing loudly.

“Fuck! I knew this was gonna end badly!” Harry laughed at you while reaching to grab your hand so you could run as fast as he did. You tightened your grip around his hand once you had it and ran to a dark corner.

You placed your hands on your knees and sighed, breathing deeply. “It could’ve been worse. The pigs could’ve arrested us.”

“I’m pretty sure my negotiation skills would’ve gotten us out anyways.”

You scoffed. “Your white ass face would’ve been enough, baby.”

He laughed and grabbed your hands to keep going further away from the girl’s house and the police car. You both were too drunk to even think correctly about where to go. You sent a text to the groupchat asking if everyone was okay and to meet up at the hotel.

But neither you or Harry could tell what way to go so you walked for a little while, stopping by any bar you came across  to get another drink.

You walked for about an hour and you were finally heading back into the city center. Your feet hurt so you stopped in a little park next to a Casino and a crappy motel.

You sat your ass down on a bench and grabbed Harry’s hand to make him sit next to you. He sighed and sat. You watched the sky for a little while.

“The stars look like a bunch of beans. Like a shit ton of beans flying above us.”

You laughed at his drunken comment. “Yep, a sky full of fucking beans.”

You both started singing the Coldplay’s song in harmony but replacing stars with beans all the way through the chorus and cracking up in laughter everytime you emphasize the word ‘beans’.

Harry took a long breath after his giggle and sighed. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss this.”

You looked at him for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Having fun with you like that. I’m gonna miss it.”

“But none of us is going anywhere?” You were pretty confused about his statement.

“Tania wants to settle in Los Angeles.” He turned his head to look at you. “And you know… You’re not…in Los Angeles, you. You’re not.”

You didn’t expect that. You thought if Harry was to ever settle somewhere it’d be in London. “You mean you’re gonna spend all your free time in LA? Fucking LA? Drinking grass smoothies all the time?”

He chortled at your comment. “It seems like that’s the plan.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, taking the information in. It felt worse than a breakup; you were losing your best-friend and without even knowing it, you threw the goodbye party.

“So you’re really going to marry her and move and we’ll never see each other again?”

Obviously alcohol made it all even more dramatic to you; it was an overwhelming emotion.

“Not never again…”

“C’mon, you know damn well what happens when longtime friends part sides! We’ve watched How I Met Your Mother together!”

He chuckled and then took a deep breath. The air was suddenly heavier, and all the alcohol in your blood was making it hard to keep the focus on the serious conversation.

“We should do one last crazy ass thing together. It’s not like we’re gonna remember it anyway!” Harry pointed the casino with his head.

“You mean blow all of our money on bets and shots of patron?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I mean.”

You didn’t check your phone as it rang in your pocket and followed up behind Harry running towards the Casino.

You took a last round of shots in the lobby. And you started shouting at Harry, your glass in the air. “You know what? I just remembered you’re getting fucking married, dude! Married? Fucking married. I can’t believe I’m gonna say this but fuck this bitch you’re engaged to.”

Harry laughed and shouted back. “Hey! I’m already fucking this bitch I’m engaged to!”

You cracked up in a laugh. “Noooooo! I mean she sucks! She wants to take you away. Awaaaaaaay.” You hiccuped and took a breath.

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been since like fifth grade or whatever.” You chugged down the rest of your glass.

Harry stopped for a second, he placed his glass on the bar. “Wow. That’s a revelation.”

He giggled and took a sip of his tequila. “I’ve been in love with you since like….. That time in third grade when you punched me in the chin cause there was a bee on me….”

“Oh fuck! I remember…. Your lip bled so much.” You let a little laugh slip through your lips. The alcohol in your blood made you lose sense of the importance of the words you just shared with Harry and what he shared back. And you thought for a second that maybe it was just drunk talk but the stupid smile you couldn’t get off your face reminded you the truth of it: it was going to stink in the morning.

After making sure both of you got enough drinks, you led him in the Casino and stopped at the first roulette table.

“Okay.” You looked at Harry. “What’s the bet though? Cause I will be putting money on something I have no idea how to play.”

“Well if I win, then you have to elope with me.”

“Oh shit.” You took a deep breath. “Fair, but if I win, we are eloping this motherfucker together.”

He scoffed. “Looks like we’re eloping tonight… That word is fucking weird, though. Eloping.”

“Who cares about the word! I’m betting on number 22 and 15. What about you baby?”

Harry took a look at the roulette for a second, placed the cash he had in his pocket on the table. “22;15.” He looked at you with a smug smile.

The dealer spinned the wheel and revealed the winning number. “22. You win.”

You collected your payout with Harry, left a big tip to the server and ran out the Casino to find a chapel.

“This is going to be so bad!!” You laughed out while running with Harry.

“Like every plan you’ve ever put me into.”

You stopped in front of the chapel at the back of the crappy motel.

“I don’t want to get married to Tania… She’s amazing. I love her so much. But it’s so boring. So boring. I want stupid plans and crappy basements party and casinos and unexpected flights and I want to be able to say when I’m 78 and I don’t have no hair left and I smell like old shoes and cheese that I married my best friend and I never regretted anything.”

“You’re being too fucking deep, Harry. There’s a Madonna drag as the officiant in this chapel. You are going to regret this.”

He chuckled before taking your hand. “We, Y/N. We are going to regret this.”

“Yep.”

You took a step into the chapel, glanced at Harry’s face to be met with a big smile and his drunken eyes. “Fuck this, I guess?”

***

You woke up with a terrible headache, your eyes could barely open because the light was too bright in the room. There was a weird smell of old alcohol, carpet and coconut air freshener. You opened your eyes fully only for your vision to be blurry as hell, the ceiling was moving and your head was so heavy, you couldn’t lift it up. You tried to look around you, seeing pulled up green sheets over your naked body and what seemed to be the curves of someone laying next to you. You felt a rumbling in your stomach and that’s the moment you knew; you had to get up…. because you were going to throw up.

You rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. After emptying your stomach, you sat on the floor for a few seconds. The bathroom was small and poorly lit with a little window over the bathtub. You stood up and washed your face, taking the time to look at yourself in the dirty old mirror over the sink. Your hair was a mess and your make up was smudged. You had a huge hickey on your neck and little ones following down to your chest. You got out of the bathroom, holding your head and stumbling slightly. The room was clear since the curtains were pulled, you peaked at who was sleeping in the bed and found Harry, draped in the sheets peacefully snoring. You swallowed the gulp in your throat; this wasn’t good. You checked your phone and to no surprise you had a shit ton of missed calls and texts from your group of friends. Some asking if you’re okay, others where you’re at and some insulting you for not answering.

You gently shook Harry’s body. “Wake up.” He moaned before pulling back the covers to his face. You tugged on them to uncover him, leaving his chest bare. “Wake up, Harry.”

He groaned and turned around to lay on his back, his face turned to the ceiling. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost 9.” He turned to face you, opening slightly his eyes to peek at you. “You’re naked.” He nonchalantly said. You blushed for a second pulling the covers off him to cover yourself. He looked down to himself. “I’m naked, too.”

A floating silence lasted a few seconds before Harry jumped out of bed to find his underwear. “I’m naked! I’m naked. You’re naked. We’re in a bed. We’re in…. Where even are we?”

“In a motel somewhere in Vegas.”

“In Vegas?” His voice got two octaves higher. “Why are we in Vegas?”

“For your bachelor party, Harry. Stop freaking out.”

“Are you asking me not to freak out? We’re in a bloody crappy motel in Vegas and we’re both naked. I can’t remember what happened last night for the life of me and my head is killing me.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his pants back on. You looked at his back and you could see slight scratches marks with the sun light. You started getting dressed too, as fast as you could. Harry grabbed his phone and started scrolling down. You heard him sigh loudly.

“The fuck we did last night, Y/N?”

“Wish I could give you an answer, Harry. All I remember is getting on the plane and then it’s a black hole.”

“Well…” He got up from the bed, wearing only his trousers. You watched his chest for a second, his tattoos and his glowing chest in the sunlight. You caught yourself staring at him; his shoulders, his chest hair, your glaze going down to his trail.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice resonated.

“Huh?”

“Did you hear what I said?” He tilted his head to the side and gave you a confused look.

“What did you say?” Your eyes lowered to the floor so that you would stop looking at him.

“I said I hope we didn’t do anything stupid. The wedding is next week. I have a stressed and very angry bride-to-be waiting for me at home and at the look of her texts, I’m in for a bad fight.”

You pinched your lips at the thought. What if you did something stupid? What if you messed up? It was already a stressful time for them. And you stewed in with a giant weekend party in Vegas when the instruction was clear: no big party.

“Let’s go find the others and finish our weekend.”

Harry scoffed as he picked up his shirt. “I’m going home. I’m sorry if I’m breaking the mood but I’m hopping on the next flight back to LA.”

***

You couldn’t quite figure out how to place the flashbacks from the weekend. It was already Monday and the wedding was in 6 days. You had flashes of a party in a small and unknown apartment and running in the streets with Harry and playing in a Casino but still nothing on how you got into the motel with him. Harry went back home on Saturday morning and from his voice message last night; he got quite into fight with Tania. She wasn’t happy at all with the Vegas plan but Harry reassured her and apparently everything was better today. You wondered if Harry remembered anything more than you, maybe he could fill in the blanks.

You knew the week was going to go fast and the wedding would be here sooner than you’d think, so you just hoped nothing unexpected would come back to you or him.

On Wednesday, you met up with Harry and the groomsmen for last minute check-ins for the wedding. You walked into the manor Harry reserved for the ceremony and as an obvious bad sign, Tania didn’t even said hello to you and avoided any eye-contact. You kinda wanted to apologize to her. After all, you did mess up a little bit.

“Hey guys.” You walked up to where your friends was.

“Hey Y/N. Did you pick up the ring from the jeweler?” Harry didn’t even look at you. He was signing some papers with the caterer and just asked the question without looking up.

“Yep. Got it right in the bag.”

Harry gave you a little look and you felt weird about it. It wasn’t his usual ‘thanks for doing the job’ look or anything tender. It was cold and almost professional.

You went over your check-ins with the groomsmen. You didn’t talk to Harry for the two hours you were there, not a word or a look. You knew something was off so once the work was done, you asked him to meet you in the bathroom.

You were standing next to the sink, checking your reflection when Harry walked in.

“Is there something wrong with the ceremony?” He asked bluntly.

“No.. Um… I just wanted… needed… to talk to you.”

“About?” He wanted to cut the conversation short and you hated this feeling in your stomach.

You sighed and smiled tenderly to him. “Well… How are you feeling? The big day is so close.”

“I’m feeling okay.” His answer was sharp but you were desperate to understand what was going on.

“Harry… What’s wrong? Why are you so cold?” You insisted.

He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, making sure it’s locked.

“You know how I said I hope we didn’t do anything stupid in Vegas?”

“Yes.” You were confused about where he was going with that but it seemed bad.

“Well, we did something stupid.” His jaw clenched and you felt out of breath. “We did something so fucking stupid, Y/N.” You swallowed the gulp in your throat. “We fucked. I can’t even believe it. I don’t even remember how we ended up in that crappy fucking room. All I remember is how I had sex with….” He didn’t even look at you. “I cheated on my wife, before we even fucking got married.”

You couldn’t say anything, the images slowly came back to you.

“You have nothing to say, huh?”

Your ‘humour coping mechanism in stressful situations’ reflex kicked in at the wrong time. “Well, technically it’s not cheating, the bachelor party is a single man party.” You laughed nervously.

“It’s all your fault. We said no fucking party. No big stupid plans, but you had to go against our wishes because you’re so fucking selfish.”

You couldn’t say a word. You never seen Harry so mad at you before.

“Look, I’m sorry your dating life is such a mess. And that you can’t find anyone, but I did. I found someone. Someone amazing and then I fucked this shit up because you couldn’t go without one party.” He rapidly passed his hand through his hair, and sighed.

You felt anger boiling down in your stomach. Him being mad was comprehensible but it wasn’t all your fault.

“You fucked this shit up, yourself. I wanted to throw a fun bachelor party for my best friend. You wouldn’t have had sex with me if you didn’t wanted to. Because deep down, you know you don’t want this marriage. You don’t want to be stuck with Miss Boring Pants and spend the rest of your life here in LA, drinking grass smoothies and having to partake in her posh high standard life. You know that’s not what you want. You know it was premature to propose so soon in the relationship. You’re mad at yourself, Harry. Get a grip. You shouldn’t do this.”

It all slipped. You just couldn’t hold it in.

“I shouldn’t do what?” Harry’s face was red, his nostrils were open and the vein on his neck was popping. You could tell he was holding back the tears at the gate.

You took a deep breath and a calm voice. “Get married. You shouldn’t get married.”

He filled his lungs with air and exhaled loudly, trying to keep his composure.

“Listen carefully Y/N. You are nobody to tell me what I should or shouldn't do. What happened in Vegas was a drunken mistake and I won’t let it ruin the best day of my life. I won’t let you ruin the best day of my life. So here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go through the ceremony with no slips and then I’m moving to LA with Tania. And you, you move out of my life.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, and your face was boiling; the tears slowly gathering in your eyes.

“You don’t mean it.” Your voice was almost like a whisper.

“I do, Y/N. From now on, I just want to make sure this wedding is the perfect wedding Tania wants.”

He unlocked the door of the bathroom and left without looking back. You brought your hand to your chest as if it would soothe the pain and let the tears flow down your face. It couldn’t be real.

***

It was hard going on like nothing happened but if there was anything you could do right now was make sure you got your best-woman duties done. The wedding was tomorrow and you had to finish your speech. What would you even say? “To my ex-best friend, I wish you the best to you and your boring wife.” That sounds about right.

You were waiting for Jeff to come in with the last informations regarding the ceremony so that tomorrow everything goes according to the plan. You heard a knock on your door, you got up thinking Jeff came in early and opened up. A postman with a big envelope was standing there.

“Y/N  Y/L/N?” He asked, looking up from his notes.

“Yes, herself.”

He asked for your id and verified it. “That’s for you.” He handed you the enveloppe and after you took it, asked for you to sign the delivery papers.

You thanked him and got back inside. You sat on the sofa to open it, there was a Vegas postage on it and your heart missed a bit.

You slowly opened the envelope. Inside you found a marriage license legally binding you and Harry for life. You pinched your lips and took a deep breath. This was a mess, a huge mess.

How on point was this news? Good way to make sure his ceremony goes exactly like they planned when you’re going to come in and let them know they can’t get married anymore.

You sat back and tried to clear your mind.

You were officially married to Harry…. And Harry is about to actually get married tomorrow. This didn’t make much sense but you had to think of a solution and quick.

[remnantoforario]

Unmerry Men AKA The Problem With Robyn Hill

I’ve been sitting on this rant for a while. I’m sure there are people who have talked this topic to death since Volume 7 ended, and did a much better job than I am about to, but I still feel the need to throw my hat in the ring (or shoot my arrow at the target given the subject matter) and say definitively and without question: that Robyn Hill is a terrible character. 

Get some snacks. This is going to be a long one. 

Let me preface this rant by saying I don’t hate Robyn HIll...in CONCEPT. That last word is very important. 

The idea behind her character is a sound one: Atlas is characterized as a country with a VERY clear disparity between the rich (Atlas)

and the poor (Mantle)

So it makes perfect sense that there would be a Robin Hood (see what I did there) type character that would bridge this gap between the two and seek to make things equal, or at least a little less lopsided. As an idea this is great, but the problem (as with most everything in RWBY) is in the execution. 

Outside of Forrest extolling her praises in the back of a cop car in Chapter 2, the first time we see Robyn is when she stops Clover, Ruby, Qrow, and Penny from reaching the Amity tower site. 

During this introduction, she tries to coerce Clover into disclosing classified government information via her Semblance, and Penny has to expose her ambush tactics. Not the best first impression.

Now in a vacuum, this scene isn’t really that bad. Thanks to (clunky) exposition, we are already aware that there is friction between the military and the Happy Huntresses. As such it makes sense that we the audience first meet Robyn as an antagonistic force against RWBY and their allies.

The thing with this though is that all four of the writers of this volume forgot to lift the perception of Robyn being an antagonist until around the final third of the volume. Objectively, there is no reason anyone outside of her own group to want to trust or follow her. 

The M,K,K, & E are trying to position Ironwood and Robyn in the roles of the Sherriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood respectively. The main problem with this is that they fail to establish Ironwood as a tyrannical threat on par with the Sherriff. 

Does he make questionable decisions? Certainly. Are his choices morally wrong? In some cases, yes. But they are more often than not written in a way where the choices he makes are OBJECTIVELY best for everyone (even if they try to frame it otherwise). 

Closing the borders, hiding the Amity plan, diverting resources to FINISH said plan, and his other tactics (while at times misguided) were done in order to protect as many people as he could from Salem and her forces. They were all calculated risks that clearly took a mental and emotional toll on him. He’s a severely broken man trying to keep whatever he has left from falling apart, but everyone is working against him (including his own allies but that’s another story). 

This brings me back to Robyn. She is hailed as the “Hometown Hero of Mantle”, but all we ever do is see her take shots at Ironwood and Jacques and talk about how much the former ISN’T helping Mantle. My question to her, her hardcore cans, and CRWBY is “What has Robyn done to help Mantle?”. RWBYJNR and various talking heads mention how Robyn is helping the people of Mantle, but because the volume (seemed) so rushed to get to Salem’s arrival, we never see her doing anything that’s not directly tied to the plot. 

She’s not working on Mantle’s wall, she’s not in the streets talking to people, handing out medical supplies, giving away food, or anything that actively helps Mantle. We don’t even see her fight Grimm in the streets until the FINAL episodes of the volume. All she and her group do is actively antagonize the military and steal (which we never see them give to the poor). For someone hailed as the town’s hero, she doesn’t seem to really be doing anything to earn that title.   

After the election night massacre, she openly declares war on Ironwood essentially and begins stealing resources needed for the Amity project, until she is ultimately stopped by Blake and Yang. 

Now in theory I have no problem with Yang and Blake telling her about the Amity plan; my main hang up about it is that Robyn has done nothing to earn this trust. 

Until this point Robyn has been getting in their way as they try to reestablish global communications, but now they suddenly feel comfortable telling this sensitive information to a complete stranger and risking a leak even when they KNOW Tyrian is in the city? Instead of telling her that, why not tell her about Tyrian instead? I’m sure she would want justice for the people he killed. 

Then she is later invited to the Council meeting (despite not being a member) and made aware of classified information that she shouldn’t know of, as well as make a complete ass of herself and show why she probably shouldn’t have won in the first place. 

This leads to her finally believing Ironwood, but eventually that gets tossed out the window at the end of the volume where her actions almost directly lead to Clover’s death.  

As she, Qrow, and Clover are transporting Tyrian back to Atlas, Ironwood’s order to arrest RWBYJNRQO is issued. Now there are three things that are very important to keep in mind here after this order is issued: 

1. Clover is clearly conflicted about following this order. 

2. Qrow is calmly trying to talk things out. 

3. Robyn is NOT under arrest. 

Let me repeat that. ROBYN IS NOT UNDER ARREST.

So as Qrow is level headedly suggesting they all talk it out, Robyn (who again is NOT under arrest) starts a fight that results in Tyrian escaping his restraints, the plane going down (after Tyrian kills the pilot and co-pilot), Robyn herself being unconscious, and Clover being ultimately being murdered. 

Now tell me after all the information is presented, why we are supposed to care for this character? What have the writers done to position her as someone we should invest in? 

A lot of her accomplishments are told to us rather than shown, and whenever we do see her onscreen she’s mostly a nuisance that makes pretty much any situation she’s in worse. Yes, I know this is just one volume and she will obviously be a central character in V8 and possibly 9, but the damage has been done. Any attempt to salvage her will just be cleaning up the fall out from V7. 

Now since I’m not one of those people that likes to complain for the sake of it, I’ll voice my opinion on how Robyn could have been written better. 

The first thing we do is distance her from the Happy Huntresses. She will still be the leader, but that information won’t be revealed until AFTER the election. It’s not really a good look for a vigilante to try and run for a public office if they are still breaking the law. That’s like Bruce Wayne running for mayor of Gotham AS Batman (though the people would likely still vote for him). 

So as far as the public (including Ironwood and RWBYJNRQO) are concerned, Robyn is a normal Mantle city official and Joanna Greenleaf is the leader of the Huntresses. For those of you who don’t remember who she is (and I don’t blame you), this is Joanna Greenleaf: 

The second thing I’m going to do is give her a more established connection to Ironwood. My idea? Former military. Robyn was once a part of the Atlas military’s intelligence and recon division because of her lie detecting semblance. When she discovers corruption within the system (lets say something having to do with Faunus, the mines, Mantle, or the SDC) she exposes it but quickly becomes disillusioned with military life and is discharged. She then begins living in Mantle and becomes their representative. We can say this happened maybe five to ten years before the series itself starts. 

She served under Ironwood and has a deep respect for him, but does not agree with his decisions as defacto head of the Council. This is what leads to the friction between them. 

Next, we change up how she and the Huntresses are introduced in V7. When RWBYJNRQO arrive in Mantle the election race has only barely begun (we’re pushing it back). We see posters for Robyn and maybe hear snippets of an interview she is giving to a news station on one of the TVs. 

When the Grimm attack, instead of RWBYJNRQO running out to help immediately, they are cut off by the Happy Huntresses who quickly get rid of the monsters. Ruby and the others wonder who they are before the Huntresses scatter when Penny and the Ace-Ops arrive. The heroes are still arrested for stealing an airship and violating Atlas airspace (as they should have), but now there is some intrigue about who that group of women were. 

Forrest still gives his exposition, but leaves out Robyn because no one knows she’s their leader. 

When the gang arrive at the school they meet with Ironwood and Winter, but hear Ironwood complaining about “that woman” after having just finished a call on his scroll. 

Fast forward to the mine mission. Instead of Jacques showing up, this is where we gets their first full appearance from Robyn. She is brought via airship to the mine (along with an exasperated Winter and Penny) and begins to badger Ironwood about ducking their meeting, stating that Mantle still hasn’t received the supplies he promised days ago. You could also have her briefly greet the kids and Qrow before going back to argue with Ironwood. 

Things proceed as normal, but inbetween some of the bigger story events we see news reports of Robyn helping people around Mantle. Feeding the poor, cheering up the miners, handing out supplies, giving speeches, and other things to show that she really is the hero of the people. Not everything has to be directly tied to the plot, you can use extra devices like tv news and the like to expand on characters. They tried this in V7 but they didn’t go far enough with in my opinion. This would inform us more on Robyn’s character without her being the direct focus as well as give the audience an actual reason to get behind the things she says. 

The main aspect of Robyn’s character that I would focus on would be her relationship with Ironwood. Nothing romantic, just how their ideologies align (or don’t) and how they view each other. They respect one another. Robyn knows Ironwood is a good man, but she doesn’t fully understand why he’s doing the things that he is doing. She doesn’t know why he’s being so secretive. She wants to give him a chance, but he keeps denying her. 

On Ironwood’s part he knows that morally Robyn is in the right and genuinely wants to help everyone in both cities, but his paranoia will not allow him to simply tell her what is really going on. Salem’s reach is far and if she was able to turn Lionheart (one of Ozpin’s closest confidants) then she can get to anyone and that is frightening. 

This is why Robyn utilizes the Happy Huntresses. They are able to move outside the law and do the things she can’t (similar to Jim Gordon and Batman). She doesn’t want to condemn Ironwood because of all the good he’s done, but people are suffering and something needs to change.

Neither are wrong, but they can’t find common ground.  

I’d position Robyn more as a fringe type of character. She doesn’t directly intervene in the plot, but you know she’s always there bidding her time until she can be more prominent.

I have more ideas for her, but this post is long enough as it is so let’s just end it here. 

TLDR; Robyn Hill is a good character concept with horrible execution. Hopefully she will be somewhat better utilized in future volumes, or kill her off at the start of V8. At this point I’m good with either. 

[toribun]

αγάπη

Words :: 6,6k

Pairing :: idol!/soulmate!Jimin x soulmate!reader

Warnings :: swearing, talk about social anxiety, some bad talk about chimchim, a mention about becoming lesbian, future angst, future smut.

CHAPTER 2

the phone call with your mom was definitely the most stressful phone call you had to take in your life. It was even worse than the time you almost sat the whole apartment on fire when you tried to make your friend eggs and bacon for her birthday breakfast. 

She had gotten worried demanding that you gave her your soulmates whole name and the number to Mrs.Kim. You knew you couldn’t give her that though. It would only make matters worse. You loved your mother to death, but she was a bit aggressive when it came to her children. You knew if you gave your mother Mrs.Kims number that she would lash out and probably be sued by the company because of harassment. And you knew she didn’t have enough money saved up to pay for compensation or a good lawyer.

You hadn’t slept much that night. You were too nervous about the meeting with Mrs.Kim and about your neighbor’s reaction to you having visitors. You were supposed to lay low, but everyone in your town knew you never had people over. you were kind of known in town as the young girl that wasn’t capable of making any friends.But most of all you were nervous about how many people Mrs.Kim would bring with her. She said she would bring a full security team. How many people is that? Would they just stand outside your house all day? Because that would definitely bring you an unnecessary amount of attention from your neighbors. 

You hadn’t read anything more about Jimin in your letter nor have you searched for any information about him or his company on the internet. You figured that you would be better of going in the blind about him as much as everybody else does when they get matched. You didn’t need to put more pressure on yourself than you already have. You had started to worry about how he took it when he found out that a girl that works as a bartender and barely made enough money to pay her bills was his soulmate. He must have been so embarrassed. Maybe that why Mrs. Kim and a whole fucking security team were on their way to you at this very moment. Maybe their job was to hide you from the media because Jimin didn’t want anyone to find out about his poor and unsuccessful soulmate. 

Okay... relax (y/n), no need to make yourself hate the guy before you had even been introduced to him. Just take a chill pill. 

When the clock hit ten you heard a knock on your door. A woman, probably in her early thirties was looking at you through your glass door as you walked down the stairs. She had to be Mrs.Kim. Four men all dressed in black was standing on both sides behind her.

When you opened the door, it took approximately five seconds before the lady and all the men had taken off their shoes and made their way into your house. Two of the men dragged your curtains over the glass doors before they turned around with their back to the doors. Then they bowed and said something in a language you didn’t understand. 

You didn’t say anything back nor did you bow back. Why did they bow? That’s so weird. Where you suppose to bow back, or would they think you look like a desperate foreigner trying to fit into the group. You figured a smile would be the best thing to do. You tried to give them the friendliest smile you were able to pull off, to try to make a good first impression. You didn’t want them to think of you as rude.

When you turned around to face the rest of the strangers, one of the men was on his way up the stairs. The woman and the last man of the four were just standing in the middle of your living room. They had smiled as soon as you had turned toward them. They bowed to, but the woman not as low as the man. 

“Hello (y/n), it’s so good to see you in person instead of just talking over the phone. We apologize for rushing in so fast, we didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Yeah well too late for that Mrs.Kim. You shouldn’t have closed the curtains if you wanted me to relax. Now it just looks like you have a mafia boss on a visit with a plan to torture and kill you. You were almost afraid that one of your neighbors would call the cops on them. 

“Ah.. yeah.. umm...hi... I am (y/n), but you probably already know that. I mean you wouldn’t barge in here if you didn’t know who I was” 

Mrs.Kim laughs. She had a beautiful smile. Pearl white teeth and a little dimple, only on her left side though. Her eyes almost disappeared completely when she laughed, you could only see a little gap in her eyes where beautiful dark irises poked through. She had to be the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. If you hadn’t just gotten your soulmate letter you would consider going lesbian for that masterpiece of a human being. 

“No, we certainly wouldn’t. We have all just been a little on edge since we left Korea. Seeing that all your curtains were left completely open for all your neighbors to see just made us a little nervous. It is our job to keep your privacy private from now on after all. And I can promise you that I take my job very seriously as you probably will notice in the next couple of days. I will do my absolute best to protect you (y/n).”

She bowed again, this time a little lower than the first. Then she walked a little closer to you.

“Ah.. so, me and my team haven’t introduced our self’s properly jet. I can start with myself. As you already know I am Mrs.Kim. I have worked for BigHit for almost six years now. I started working as a secretary for a lot of the high profiled people in our company until I got switched over to the security department two years ago. My job for the last two years has been to plan for the arrival of the soulmates of our idols. Now I have been given the position as head of security for you (y/n). I truly look forward to working with you.” 

She shakes my hand and smiles again. Then she turned to look at all the men around your house.

“And some of these men are going to be your personal security guards. Not all of them though, we just brought a little extra to ensure that everything runs smoothly for your journey to Seoul. The next couple of weeks is really going to determine who is gonna stay with you permanently. We will see who you get the most comfortable with and them pic two out of that. We also made sure that all of the security personnel assigned to you are capable of speaking English fluently so that we don’t get any problems related to communication.” 

Wait... If they are all fluent in English, why the hell did they speak another language to you just a couple of minutes ago then? 

“We have Junseo, Seurong, Yucheon, and Hyun. All of them have worked with the company for more than five years. Junseo is actually one of Jimins guards. He has worked with bts since the beginning. Jimin trust him more than any other guard working for us, so he specifically asked for him to join us on our travel to make sure that you were taken extra good care of.”

 They had all smiled when Mrs.Kim said their name and said cute little Hello’s and hi’s in return. Junseo’s ears and cheeks got all red when Mrs.Kim had talked so well about him. You could already tell that he was too pure for this world, how is this blushing mess a security guard? You just couldn’t wrap your head around that. You just wanted to give him a hug and tell him how adorable he is. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that though. He is a grown man after all. You did hope that you two could become friends in the future though. Maybe you could take him out for ice cream someday. He seems like a guy that would like stuff like that.

Mrs. Kim said a couple of words in what you assumed was Korean before all of them except Junseo went outside again. She sounded so French when she talked English, but looked and talked Korean. You were confused. Maybe you were just absolutely horrible at telling apart accents.You were all just standing there so you asked them both to take a seat on your couch to get a more comfortable atmosphere. They happily obliged, you took a seat in the beanbag tucked in the corner of the room. It was silent for what felt like five seconds before Mrs.Kim opened her mouth again. 

“I actually really need you to take a look at these documents with me (y/n). The CEOs of BigHit have required me to present this to you before our travel tomorrow. It is documents regarding your future in the company. Unfortunately, you don’t really have a choice of being a part of the company or not. Not only because of Jimin’s contract with BigHit but also his line of work. But they have tried to make it as fair as possible for you with this contact.” 

The previous big smile that decorated Mrs.Kim’s face had become smaller as she kept talking. You had already tried to prepare for worst-case scenarios, so keeping calm wasn’t as hard as you had first thought. It made sense to. Everybody knows that if you get matched with a famous person that you are basically bound to both them and their work for the rest of your life. You felt bad for the ones that had found at who they were only to have it all be ripped away to become a personal healing bag for their famous soulmate. 

You were also kind of happy though. Everyone in your life seems to know exactly who they are. What work they wanna do, their personality, what their style is, and what their dreams and goals are. You honestly didn’t know anything about yourself. You still haven’t found out who you are or what you want to do with your life. That was a good thing now though. Because if you don’t have anything to lose then people can’t take anything from you. 

But why did they ask for Mrs.Kim to show me the contract now? Why couldn’t we just do that after arriving in Korea? 

“He has requested you to show them to me now? Why can’t it wait until we have arrived in Seoul?” 

Mrs.Kim nodded before looking down at the stack of paper in her hands. 

“Well, even though they know that you wouldn’t run off to another entertainment company and ask for a job. They just need to make sure. Have it in black on white you know. It also is to make you more relaxed. In the contact that they wish for you to sign is a promise from them as a company. They want you to know that they are going to protect both you and your loved ones from the media and the fans. It is also a promise from them that they are going to give you work if you wish to and pay you even if you decide not to. For them, the most important thing is to know that regardless of where Jimin is or what he is doing, that you are going to be right beside him. They know that an idol can’t work without his or her soulmate after the bond as started. They need you to be around so that Jimin can keep working.”

“And in return, I give them what? All of what you just said sounds too good to be true.” You said. Your voice confused.

“In return” she continues. “In return, you give us your absolute loyalty. It really isn’t anything more than that. This isn’t a contact meant to screw you over (y/n). We know how bad it can all end if an idol doesn’t have their soulmate around twenty-four seven” 

Junseo had made his way to your kitchen, probably to give the two of you some privacy to discuss this. It had to be a little uncomfortable just sitting there and watching this conversation progress. You saw him looking at the pictures hanging on your refrigerator. You had filled the whole surface of the refrigerator with photos from back home, and your trips to different parts of the world. The voice of Mrs.Kim brought you back to the conversation.

“You see (y/n), it has been a few thousand cases in South Korea with Idols not having their soulmates around them enough. And everybody knows how wrong things can go with too little physical contact. Both idol and their soulmate would get very sick and in the worst cases die. The things that are different between other companies and ours is that we are willing to use a lot of money, time, and resources on our idol’s soulmate. Because we care and we know that it is what we must do to keep our idols healthy and happy. We have seen how much we can get back from it too. Let’s say that you are happy spending time with us in this company. That can result in you being willing to show up for events and interviews. It can make you want to work with us too, maybe within music or dance, or maybe things like doing modeling jobs. It can also mean that you may be willing to do social media stuff, it is a huge market in that now. But you are never going to want to have anything to do with us if we don’t treat you like family”

 She raised her shoulders a little, sitting more back on the couch. “However way you twist and turn around on this (y/n), you are good for the company. When this goes out into the public in just a few hours, things are going to blow up. Everyone is going to be talking about it. This is something that not only Jimin, his family, band members, and us in the company have been waiting for, but also the fans. It must be close to a gazillion hours of videos of Jimin on the Internet. A lot of those videos are him talking about you. His soulmate that he so desperately wants to find. The fans are going to be so excited for him when the news is out. So the PR is going to be amazing for the company.”

“That’s why BigHit doesn’t want much from you. The only thing that contract is requiring from you is that you don’t work for anyone else. That whatever work you want to do is going to be under BigHit, and that BigHit has the rights on whatever public works you do. It isn’t bad right?”

You nodded your head trying to digest the information. It didn’t sound bad at all. You had read so many horror stories about famous people’s soulmate being abused or taken advanced off by their soulmates company. It didn’t sound like the company that your soulmate works for did things that way. You should be happy and grateful for that you thought.

“Okay, I will sign it.” 

The next morning was the most chaotic morning you had ever experienced. 

Well not for you really. You had just been sitting at the floor with Mrs.Kim for the last hour drinking coffee and watching the moving people packing away all your stuff. But it was tiring to watch. And a little bit uncomfortable to not be helping. You had asked but all the men would just give you a smile and then bow before continuing on.You had taken that as a thank you, but no thank you. 

Everything was gone in under two hours. You didn’t have a lot of stuff, but they packed everything so neatly. It was almost painful to watch them fold every clothing item you owned perfectly before packing it away. You thought your closet was quite organized but not enough for them apparently. 

Mrs.Kim has told you that they were not Korean but Japanese. And also, that the same moving company had helped them every time the group that Jimin was a part of, had moved. They were supposedly the best of the best.

It was really quite in the streets, mostly because the clock only was eight in the morning. Most of the tourists are still asleep. So the moving crew had been able to pack everything up and leave without anyone noticing.Mrs. Kim told you that it would be best to pack up everything when there are fewer people around. The fewer the people the less attention.

The news of you and Jimin had dropped yesterday. And even though Mrs.Kim wouldn’t tell you anything, you could tell that it has become big news. She had talked on the phone for hours with someone you assumed was working for the company as well. She had talked in a low and stressful voice and even though you didn’t understand a word Korean, you knew that that conversation was something she didn’t want you to understand.

So she hasn’t told you anything though. You had tried to ask her about it but she would only answer that it was nothing for me to worry about and that it is being handled. 

You did worry though, but she didn’t give you much time to. Because as soon as the moving truck had left you were lead out to the cars as well. You would be leaving in two different cars. You, Mrs.Kim, and Junseo were leaving in one car while Seurong, Yucheon, and Hyun would leave in another. 

You and Mrs.Kim have taken the back seats as Junseo would drive. The car was filled to the brim with tension. As both you and Mrs.Kim refuse to make any eye contact. You could tell she was nervous, and it made you uneasy as well. The only comfort you got was from Junseo through the rear-view mirror as he would give you small smiles and winks whenever you would catch his gaze. 

The last days had gone by so fast. You were just happy that you had gotten the time to give everyone that was important to you on that island a goodbye in person before you left. Even though you wished you had more time with everyone you knew that if you had asked for more you would have given Mrs.Kim a heart attack. And you weren’t that keen on having to explain to the company that you had killed one of their employees. You don’t think they would be so nice to you anymore if you had.

When you were getting close to the airport you noticed Mrs.Kim straighten up. She looked more alert as she eyed the people around the airport. Then after we stopped right outside the terminal one door she let out a breath and started to look more relaxed again. She turned to Junseo and told him something in Korean with a smile. 

What suddenly made them so happy?

The door on your side suddenly opened, making you flinch before turning around to face a smirking Yucheon. You blush a little as he started to giggle of your reaction. 

“You can come out now, me and Junseo will take you to the first-class lounge so you can eat something before our plane leaves” 

Oh, so he does talk English, just with an adorable accent. 

“I am really hungry too, so you don’t have to worry about eating alone” He gave you a reassuring smile. It reached his eyes and gave him cute eye wrinkles. 

You smiled back before making a mental note of Yucheon being a potential candidate for being your future lunch buddy when your soulmate decided to ditch you.

 “Ah. Thank you, I would hate to eat alone. That’s really depressing” 

He giggled a little more before making more space for you to crawl out of the car. Junseo jumped out of the car only a second after you. Then the three of you made your way into the busy airport. Mrs.Kim hadn’t followed you and neither had Hyun. You didn’t want to ask about it, it was okay for you to not know the reason behind everything. You knew it would only make you more anxious. And you didn’t want to loos your cool when you had made it this far.

The first-class lounge was mostly empty except the few people that worked in the buffet and an old couple sitting in the corner. Yucheon had informed you that the plane didn’t leave before twelve o’clock, so the three of you had almost two hours to eat our way through the buffet.

You had gotten to know both of them a little better at that time. Yucheon was twenty-eight years old and loved food, animals, tv-dramas, and long walks by a famous river that was in Seoul. Junseo was thirty years old and loved to read, travel, play video games, and go to the gym. You liked both of them a lot and found yourself wondering if it would be possible to steal Junseo from Jimin. 

You had asked them both if they would like to join you for ice cream and a walk along the river that Yucheon talked about, both of them said they would love to but that we would have to wait until the news of you and Jimin had died down. 

Yucheon had been shocked when you confessed to not really knowing anything about Jimin. He had been even more shocked when you told him that you haven’t even searched his name on google jet. He, of course, had thought that you were at least a little curious about him. And you are, but you are also really afraid to freak yourself out before you had even met the guy. 

Naturally Yucheon and Junseo we’re both eager to tell you everything they knew, even though you interested on that they don’t. 

“You know” started Junseo.

“He really has been putting a lot of effort to make everything perfect before you come. Not just after he got the letter, but for as long as I have worked for BigHit” 

He stopped eating and laid down his fork before he leaned more back into the couch. 

“He talked about you daily, even before knowing your name. He would always say stuff like ‘I can’t wait to show her this’ or is bet she would love to see this’. It was always about you. Everything he does he does for you. I remember having to wake him up one time. He had fallen asleep in the car on the way to rehearsal. He was crying in his sleep, and when I woke him up he said ‘why does TISO use so much time to find her?’ And ‘I have paid them so much to make it go faster because I need her now. Why can’t they just find her now? I need her now.”

He picked up his fork again and took a big bite of the pasta dish he was eating.

“You know, he really is a good guy. But he has a big heart that breaks easily. So be nice to him, please. He really is trying his best. So don’t be mad at him for not knowing enough English to express himself or communicating with you properly. Just tell him it’s okay, and that you will learn together. Because I can’t handle to see him heartbroken, especially after longing for you for such a long time” 

Junseo seemed to really love Jimin. He wouldn’t have told me this if he didn’t. 

You just nodded and told him you that he didn’t have to worry. Your first language wasn’t English ether so you know that learning a new language could be hard. You wouldn’t judge someone because of it. 

By that time Mrs.Kim had called them and informed us that we could board the plane soon. You had made your way through the terminal and before you even knew you were sitting in first class on a plane ready to leave for the other side of the world.

You had never flown for more than six hours, so you were starting to feel more and more thankful for the first class tickets the longer you were in the air.

You didn’t think you would have survived in the air for so long if you had to sit in the economy.

They had served food three times throughout the flight. All of the food served were multiple courses and were served with wine. When you were not eating you enjoyed the movie collection on board. Mrs.Kim had been on a Skype call with a man you didn’t know, for a couple of hours of the flight before falling asleep. The rest of the guys seemed to be sleeping for most of the flight too. Maybe it would have been smart of you to sleep too, but you were way to nervous about landing in Seoul to fall asleep.

The thought of the cameras that would be waiting to catch a glimpse of you at the airport was all you were capable of thinking about. You were thinking about how your life would be from now on, all the media and pressure didn’t match your ideal lifestyle. You were starting to question TISO’s discovery on you and Jimin as soulmates. Maybe they did a mistake or only matched you and Jimin together because they got paid a lot by him or his company and didn’t find his soulmate fast enough.

It didn’t seem right to you.

You've dreamed of having at least five or six more years alone before being matched with a guy living a quiet and boring life. You liked quiet and boring. It made you feel safe. Your mental health wasn’t stable enough to live the life Jimin was living. You prefer to not be the center of attention and would much rather be in the corner of the room than being the one that dances in the middle.

Your thoughts were stopped by the pilot's announcement over the speakers.

“ Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Seoul. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and make sure all your belongings are secured. Also, make sure your seat back is straight up and your seatbelt is fastened. The flight attendants will make one more round to pick up any unwanted items left. Thank you”

You looked over to Mrs.Kim. She was already looking at you. A lazy smile decorated her face. She looked so cute when she was sleepy, you wonder who was blessed with waking up to her every day.

“Are you ready (y/n)?”

You nodded. You kinda just had to be ready, because there was no way they pilots would just fly a couple of extra rounds just so you could have a little more time, now was it?

“There is no need to be nervous. I have already talked to some of our staff on the ground. They have everything under control.”

You already know that they would. The only problem is that they actually need to keep things under control. That only means it’s people waiting for you on the ground.

“(Y/n)”

You nodded and tried to give a small smile as reassurance. She didn’t need to know how much you were dying on the inside right now.

“I need you to remember to stay close to Junseo when we land. Your baggage is going to be delivered directly to the car. All you need to do is to keep your head low and your focus on Junseo. You are going to be wearing a mask and a hoodie so that the paparazzi can’t get a clear shot of you”

You almost jumped from your seat when the plain suddenly hit the ground, only the seatbelt prevented you from it.

You had missed your favorite part of any flight. To watch out the window on the city that you were gonna stay in. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last time you were gonna land in Seoul, so you would just have to pay more attention next time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we in emirates welcomes you to Seoul. The local time is six in the morning and the temperature is currently eighteen degrees Celsius. For your safety and for those around you, please remain seated until the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign is turned off. Thank you”

The next minutes passed almost too quickly. All of you were all packed up and on your way out of the plane in what felt like only a minute.

Mrs.Kim had given you a big pink hoodie with ‘BTS’ written on the front and a black mask. Junseo was walking in front and had his arm stretched out for you. You quickly accepted and gripped his hand hard. You swear you had seen Junseo flinch from the power of your tight hold on him.

You had walked through security control and passport control completely alone. Big Hit had to have something to do with the luxury treatment you thought.

They hadn’t asked many questions after receiving your passport and confirmation from TISO on your soulmate. They had stamped your passport and told you something in Korean before giving you a smile followed by a bow.

And then you were on your way towards a door to what you assumed was the main terminal of the airport. But nobody from your travel group told you anything. Junseo only offered his hand to you again as Mrs.Kim dragged the hood of the hoodie over your head and made sure the mask was sitting right.

“Keep your head down and don’t freeze. We have to move fast (y/n).”

“I understand” was the only thing you could think of saying. You just had to trust these people that you had only known for three days to keep you safe.

No problem.

As you got closer to the metal door you started to hear the noise from the other side. As soon as Yucheon opened the door the people on the other side exploded in screams.

You had loosened your hold on Junseo hand and tried to take a step back. But he had only fastened his hold on you and given you a thigh squeeze. Mrs.Kim placed her hand on your back before shoving you out the door.

The flashlights were blinding. You tried your hardest to keep your focus on Junseo’s moving feet and on Mrs.Kim’s hand that had made its way around your waist.

You lifted your gaze slightly. But not enough to look over Junseo’s big shoulders. You did, however, get a glimpse of the barricade that was blocking you from them. It hanged a lot of signs on it. Papers in all of the rainbow's colors with colorful writing on them.

“Welcome to Korea (y/n),” one said.

“Army supports you,” another one said.

Why the hell would the Korean army support me?

“Please tell Jimin to eat at” the rest was written in Korean. You assumed it was a restaurant or cafe.

You almost tripped when Junseo slowed down. A big revolving door was the reason for his now slower pace. But as soon as you had made your way through, you were quickly shown into a black van.

You felt as though you were finally able to breathe properly again.

Outside the airport young girls and boys were gathered. You could hear them even though the car doors were closed.

They were singing.

There was already a person ready in the driver's seat. Mrs. Kim had taken the front seat and Junseo had walked around the car to sit at your left side in the back.

You had no idea where Seurong, Yucheon, or Hyun was. But you could imagine them being in some of the surrounding vehicles.

The driver that you didn't know the name of, told Mrs. Kim something with a smile before starting to drive. The singing from the people outside the airport soon disappeared. You were left with only the motor of the car as noise. You pay close attention to everything passing by. This was the city you were most likely going to live in for all of the remaining years of your life. So you tried your best to remember buildings that looked exiting or places that you would like to later explore.

It was exciting, you couldn't lie. Seoul was truly a stunning city. It was extraordinary to see such a beautiful contrast between the old and the new buildings. You could almost feel the culture in the air as you got deeper and deeper into the city.

An extremely tall building caught your eye.

”What is that?” you asked. Everybody else that was in the car flinched. You had tried not to make your voice loud, but the car was just too quiet. Any noise that would occur would certainly scare anyone.

”what? Where?” Junseo was leaning over you to watch out your side of the car. His eyes frantically searching for whatever had caught your attention.

”that!” you tried to point your index finger as precisely a possible. Letting your finger push hard against the glass window and closing your left eye. Junseo tried to follow your finger to what it was pointing towards.

”ahh, that is lotte tower, I can take you there sometime. They have a nice bar in one of the top floors with an amazing view of Seoul” He had started at the building as he was talking to you. Your finger only left the window after he was done explaining about the tower.

The drive through the city went slow. The traffic wasn't bad, but it felt like they had a stoplight at every corner in the whole city center. But it could also be because of the awkward tension between everyone in the car. They all know that when you arrive, they are going to be the witnesses to you and Jimins first meeting.

No pressure right?

You were really nervous though. And it was uncomfortable to think about people watching your first meeting with Jimin. You found yourself wondering if that's how it's always gonna be with Jimin. He was famous after all. You had just hoped that you would have this moment for yourself.

You were starting to see that you were arriving on the rich side of town. Every building, flower, bench, and even the crosswalk looked expensive. You didn't belong here.

You suddenly stopped at a security gate. A huge fence blocking the car from continuing on driving. One of the two men guarding the gate came up to the driver's window. The other man was walking around the car and looking at me and Junseo. Mrs. Kim has just leaned over the driver to hand some papers to the security guard, not really seeming nervous about the men. They had talked only a couple of sentences each before Mrs.Kim turned around to look at me.

”This is as far as we are allowed to take you today, (y/n). These kind men will walk you up this hill to Jimins apartment. You can just walk straight in, the door is unlocked.”

You weren't ready. But then again you probably never would.

”okay, thanks guys. For the drive and all that.” you said looking down at your hands that we're lying comfortably on your lap.

”hey.” Junseo took your left hand and squeezed tightly. Then he gave you a piece of paper with his name and number on it.

”you know we are all just a phone call away if you need us. But I doubt you will. I know Jimin is gonna keep you busy. He has basically planned for this for his whole life. You are going to be eating good food, see beautiful places, have lots of fun, and meet everyone important to him. I promise you are gonna have the best time of your life, I am honestly a little afraid you might forget me after a few weeks with him.

You laughed. Tears were forming in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't tell if it was from nerves, happiness, or sadness. It almost felt like a mix of them all.

”thank you. I really appreciate you Junseo. Don't be mad though, when I start calling you about ice cream and that walk we talked about. I can be a bit annoying if things don't happen fast enough for me.”

You could see Mrs. Kim smile in the corner of your eyes.

«I like annoying.” was all Junseo said before you stepped out of the car. Only carrying your hand luggage, you had no idea when the rest would arrive.

The tall building he lived in was intimidating. It seems to reach beyond the clouds. Not the best place for one with a fear of heights, especially when he lives on the top two floors. You though the guard that followed you to the building was joking with you when he gave you a keycard to the elevator and told you to press floor number fifty-two.

The guard had let out a laugh at your reaction but did little to help you other than giving you a kind smile and a point with his index finger to the elevator.

He obviously didn't speak a word English, but you still found him cute with all his hand gestures and his broken English.

”Okay, okay, I am going don't worry. You can go down to your friend again. I just need a minute to try to calm myself before going into that death trap.”

He only let out another laugh but didn't move an inch.

Great.

You give the poor guy a smile before turning around and going into the elevator, pressing the fifty-second floor, and scanning your new keycard. You turned with your back to the door and faced the mirror that was covered the whole wall. Your make-up is completely ruined by your long journey and you find yourself regretting not using the time from the airport to jimins house to try to look at least a little more presentable.

You had decided to wear a navy blue jumpsuit. It was pretty and you slightly prayed that it would be enough to distract him from your face.

”hello.”

You haven't even noticed the elevator door opening, but as you lifted your gaze you saw his eyes on you through the mirror. He was standing in the hallway without shoes on.

He looked like an angel. Wearing all white and many accessories. The clothes he was wearing was baggy but made with a thin fabric, so thin that you could see the outline of the tattoo on his ribcage. His rings we're all gold-colored with different colored gemstones. His outfit was planned but relaxed.

Dark but gentle eyes started intensely on you. They held the stars. He had tears threatening to fall in the corners on both eyes, but you only saw it becomes the light hit his face perfectly, making his eyes shine.

He was biting the corner of his lip, as he was slightly swaying back and forth, shifting between one foot and the other.

Then you realized.

He was just as nervous as you.

”hi.”

[365days365movies]

January 13, 2021: House of Flying Daggers (2004)

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was HUGE. I don’t just mean on this blog, I mean in the United States in 2000 and 2001. If you were alive and aware of movies that year, then you remember people talking about this movie. It was, and is to this day, the highest grossing foreign-language film in the United States. So what does that mean?

It means that Ang Lee wouldn’t be the only wuxia film director to cross the pond. Two years later, a little movie called Hero would be released internationally. That wuxia would eventually become the #3 highest-grossing foreign language movie in the USA. It’]s director was an old hat wuxia director in China, Zhang Yimou.

Yimou’s success on China never translated in the USA, until Hero in 2002. After that, he would release more films in the USA, one of the most recent being...oh. OH. OH NO, The Great Wall starring Matt Damon, Pedro Pascal, and Willem Dafoe?!? THAT’S A ZHANG YIMOU MOVIE?

...I mean, Ang Lee made the 2003 Hulk, so I guess nobody’s perfect. Anyway, House of Flying Daggers.

Zhang Ziyi’s back! This is another critically acclaimed movie, but wasn’t nearly as popular in the USA. It was nominated for one Academy Award, for Best Cinematography, but it lost to The Aviator. I’ll talk about that one in the future the way of the future the way of the future the way of the future.

But OK, enough introduction, IT’S WUXIA TIME WOOO SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

The House of Flying Daggers is a Robin Hood organization, stealing from the wealthy and giving to the disenfranchised in a particularly poor area and time period in China. Their biggest enemies, as you’d expect from a Robin Hood group, are the police, who are conspiring to take down their leader within ten days, whomever they may be.

One of these policeman is Jin (Takeshi Kaneshiro), who goes to the Peony Pavilion, an “entertainment house” full of beautiful women. See, the leader’s daughter is rumored to be working there as a new showgirl.

This is the blind dancer Mei (Zhang Ziyi), who’s questioned awkwardly by the VERY drunk Jin. She dances and sings for him, as requested. Good time to mention something that I didn’t mention yesterday: Zhang Ziyi has no martial arts background prior to her film career. Instead, her background is in dance! She learned fight choreography in that film the same way she learned dance choreography. So, it’s neat to see her return to her roots.

It’s less neat to see Jin straight-up sexually assault her and get arrested by the cops. So, y’know, ups and downs there. To prevent from getting arrested herself, Mei accepts the offer to play a game called “Echo.” This is prompted by another police officer, Leo (Andy Lau). He, uh...throws beans at a circle of drums, and she responds by hitting the drums with her sleeves. Yeah. Sounds dumb, right? Well, check out how it looks.

This is a very different movie, as compared to CTHD. And yeah, I’m only 15 minutes in, but the choreography is far more artistically flourished. Yeah. I said that as compared to CTHD. Only time will tell, but this full dance sequence is definitely interesting to watch.

Anyway, as you can see above, it ends once Mei grabs the captain’s sword with her sleeve ribbons, and challenges him to a duel. She also TOTALLY blows her cover as a sympathizer to the House of Flying Daggers, and the two fight.

This fight does NOT go well for her, and she’s arrested. Also, it would seem that the drunken display by Jin was actually just a ruse, meant to get her to play the game and reveal herself. Seems...complicated, but it got result, I guess? Anyway, they threaten her with torture (like you do), unless she gives them information of the new leader of the House of Fly...HoFD. There. If CTHD gets an acronym, so does this.

Suddenly, though, a ninja appears and sets Mei free, fighting off the guards. Said ninja reveals himself as...Jin? They refamiliarize themselves.

Very refamiliar.

Anyway, the soldiers are indeed approaching, and Mei and Jin go on the run. The policemen chase them down on horses, and Mei takes down three horses and the guys riding them...with a scabbard. By herself. Badass.

That’s followed by her taking on four armed men at once, although this round doesn’t go nearly as well.

Luckily for her, however, Jin arrives in the nick of time to save her. We get this VERY cool POV arrow shot:

And the two leave. HOWEVER, the policeman ALL get up at the end, which means...Jin’s lying about all of this, huh? It’s a ruse to find to location of the HoFD, using Mei as an unwitting guide. Oof. Liar revealed plot set-up, huh? If that’s the case...I’ll get into that more later.

Jin leaves a message for his fellows, while Mei bathes and puts on men’s clothes provided by Jin, as a disguise. 

It’s at this point that Jin decides to go FULL creep again, and GODDAMN is it not working for me. It is...UNCOMFORTABLE, knowing what we know about Jin. And yet, despite that information...

It’s working for Mei. Yeah, they make out. Mei does say that it’s too soon, and that she doesn’t quite trust him that much yet...but they definitely made out there for a hot sec. It was...yup.

We get a reminder the Jin’s kind of an emotionally manipulative asshole as he meets with Leo, who warns her not to “fall for her.” So. It IS one of these stories, huh? We’ll see how it goes, but...yeah, not digging the love story so far.

And yet, as I say that, there goes Jin, falling in love with her. Soldiers consistently follow them wherever they go. Looks like the plan is backfiring, as soldiers who aren’t one of Jim’s cohorts believe that he’s a member of the HoFD, having broke Mei out of jail and all. So they attack them in earnest, even injuring Jin somewhat.

And that’s when Mei brings out the dagger. The Flying Dagger. THE HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGER.

I tell ya...that’s cool. Might be a CGI house of flying dagger (LOT of CGI in this movie, by the way, and none of it is technically...good), but I love it. The two fight off the soldiers in the field using the house of flying daggers and arrows, but reinforcements arrive. The two fight them in a sequence that’s more dance than ight. And it’s pretty cool. But they’re soon outnumbered.

Until...some wooden dowels come out of NOWHERE, impaling them in the neck and taking them down. Having survived, the two rest in the field, pondering where the dowels came from. And, of course, making out.

Although, this time, Mei starts it, and Jin refuses. He leaves, at her urging, and meets with Leo. Turns out the General sent the soldiers in the field, and is sending more to kill Mei AND Jin. And, as a note, Jin just KILLED some of those guys, as did Mei. Arrow boys from earlier lived, since it was a set-up for Mei. But, no, Jin actually has to kill the soldiers coming up.

That’s when he realizes that the General doesn’t care about him, at ALL, and he’s willing to shed the blood of his men and of Jin to get his goals met. And Jin...quits. Jin STRAIGHT UP quits, and returns to Mei. They get into a spat, and Mei leaves. And she goes to...

A bamboo forest. Thank you, China, for loving bamboo so much in these movies, because this sequence is gorgeous. I tell you, these movies do real well with the bamboo green color. Gorgeous.

The soldiers ambush Mei there, but Jin’s caught up, and he helps fight them off. Some awesome bamboo tricks (and sounds, by the way, real neat sounds here), more object-throwing (including a lot of using the bamboo stalks as weapons, which is SUPER FUCKIN’ COOL), and some gorgeous cinematography though the forest. Real talk, this scene made the movie for me. So far, anyway. We even get a BADASS bamboo spike trap! And it’s here that our pair is caught.

AND THEN

IT’S THE HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS FUCK YEAH

Looks like the madam of the entertainer’s house actually is the head of the HoFD, once again upholding the tradition of badass women of wuxia that we’ve seen in LITERALLY ALL THREE of these movies.

The leader asks if Jin likes Mei, and would consider marrying her. It’s far too soon for Jin, and he’s formally captured by the HoFD. They knew about his and Leo’s plan, and drag a captured Leo in as well. AND, AND...MEI’S NOT BLIND, or the daughter of the leader!!! Yeah! She’s been faking the whole movie! HA! Liar revealed indeed!

Didn’t see that one coming! Mei’s just a normal anti-governmentrevolutionary, and Jin’s now just a prisoner alongside Leo. But another twist, as this isn’t the actual leader of the HoFD. Leo reveals this; and how does he know that? LEO...IS A GODDAMN MOLE IN THE GOVERNMENT!!! WHAT????? YES! Leo’s a member of the HoFD, and he was planted three years ago to spy on the cops! And...AND...HE’S MEI’S FIANCEE!! WHAT IN THE SHIT?!?

OH I AM FULLY INVESTED. What the hell else is gonna happen? How about a game of Echo?

Yeah, that scene from earlier? No wonder it was a dance! It was the reunion between two lovers, long since parted! Holy shit, THIS is a romance I can fully get behind! But...can Mei? Because she certainly isn’t feeling it as much as Leo is...

Yup. Looks like she fell in love with Jin after all. Uh oh. BIG UH OH. And there goes my support of their romance, as Leo tries to rape Mei. Nia, the leader, ain’t having it, and throws a dagger into Jin’s back. He goes back to spy on the cops, but not before shaming Mei. Oof. I take it back. 

And now, Mei’s been told to kill Jin. I’m sure that’s gonna happen.

YUP

Well, after they have Field Sex (probably better than CTHD’s Cave Sex, let’s be honest), they decide to go their separate ways, becoming fated lovers on two separate sides. But Mei has second thoughts, and goes back.

Somebody else comes back, too.

YIKES, LEO! Yeah, he kills her right there in the field, blaming her for making him kill her! YIKES, LEO!!! I take it back, you’re a DICK.

Jin ALSO comes back for Mei, and finds Leo instead. A pissed-off Leo reveals himself to Jin, and the two engage in a sword battle for Mei. And then...autumn turns to winter.

As the army encroaches on the HoFD in the bamboo forest, two former friends shed blood amongst the snow. Their fight...their fight is brutal. The choreography may not be the fanciest...but it is insanely and viciously emotional. Blood and snow, man. Blood and snow.

Also, hey, guess who’s alive after all! Mei gets up, despite the DAGGER IN HER CHEST STILL. She asks Leo to let Jin go, or she’ll USE THE DAGGER IN HER CHEST TO KILL HIM. METAL. Obviously, that’ll actually kill her, So Jin asks her not to do it. But it doesn’t matter in the end.

Mei throws her dagger to intercept Leo’s. And Leo...never throws his dagger..

Leo leaves. Mei dies. Jin cries and sings their song.

A rare beauty in the North. She’s the finest lady on earth. A glance from her, the whole city goes down. A second glance leaves the nation in ruins. There exists no city or nation that has been more cherished than a beauty like this. A rare beauty in the North. She’s the finest lady on earth. A glance from her, the whole city goes down. A second glance leaves the nation in ruins. There exists no city or nation that has been more cherished than a beauty like this.

And we never see what happens to the...House of Flying Daggers.

WHOOF. Epilogue soon.

[thran-duils]

Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 14)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 14) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,967 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence 

Author’s Note: I know it’s typically Mondays but I couldn’t wait. lmao ~~FINAL PART~~ please note MUCH ANGST and DEATH

Chap 13 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

The radio silence was more unbearable than Castiel trying to reach out and connect with you. No texts. No calls. No letters. No gifts. It is what you had wanted, but now that it had come to pass, you were more on edge than ever before. Too afraid to reach out yourself – not that you wanted to really do that… to give him any indication you were not serious. You spent the days fretting about what he was planning. Or if he was planning anything at all. You may have angered him enough that he never wanted to see you again. There was no way to be sure where he was at mentally now.

You refused to leave the bunker once more. After you had told them the extent of Castiel’s frustration at your rejection, Sam and Dean were afraid to leave too. But still, they had to leave. You all agreed two was better than going alone, so they went together. Holing up in the bunker alone set your anxiety off every time until they came back through the door.

And one night, they did not come back.

After the first hour, you texted them asking what the hold up was. After the second hour, you texted again, pacing nervously. Immediately, you pressed call when they did not respond within a few minutes. Both calls went to voicemail and you left messages for both, demanding that they call you back as soon as they got the message.

A couple more hours passed, more texts and calls going unanswered. When you noticed your stomach growling, you made a sandwich, all the while obsessively checking your phone. You could not distract yourself. You knew what was wrong. You felt it like a rock in the pit of your stomach. You just could not bring yourself to make the call.

He did it for you and you answered after the first ring.

“Castiel?” you rasped.

“Hello, love. It is wonderful to hear your voice. I have missed it something fierce.”

Shakily, you asked, “Castiel, did you…”

You could not bring yourself to ask him outright.

“I have a game for you,” Castiel said lightly. “A tough one, my sweet, I admit. But it has to be done. For us. Come home, Y/N. I am still here. Contrary to your belief, the cops did not come looking. I wish you had trusted me on that. I would not willingly put you in danger.”

“Castiel, what did you do?”

He ignored your question, “You are expected by our guests. It will be a housewarming party to remember, you can count on that. I will see you soon, kitten.”

With a click, the line was disconnected.

You were out the door in a flash, fearing the worst for Dean and Sam.

<> <> <>

You were armed with your pistol you kept in the lockbox underneath your seat in the car. In your rush, you had not been able to arm yourself with concealed knives, but this would have to do. Castiel would probably be unhappy you had come with it but frankly, you did not care. He had your family held hostage. At least that is what you had to keep telling yourself to prevent you from going to deep down the rabbit hole. If he had already done something worse…

The hours it took to get to your destination dragged despite how fast you were driving. When you finally arrived, you found the front door was unlocked. Gun raised, held tight in both hands, you moved through the large house, checking corners as you entered rooms.

Your foot on the first step towards the second floor caused a loud creak and you swore quietly to yourself. Gun raised again, you moved up the staircase, keeping your breath even. Opening each door was a rush, not knowing what to expect on the other side. The house was quiet, each room empty that you had come across so far.

You came to a stop in front of a set of double doors at the end of the hall. You took in a careful, deep breath and exhaled before opening the door.

Stepping into the master bedroom, you saw Dean and Sam handcuffed, gagged, and tied to two strong chairs before the open patio doors. The soft wind was moving the translucent white curtains, the fresh air circulating the room.

The guys reacted seeing you, yelling behind their gags, trying to break their bonds.

Looking to your sides, you made sure Castiel was not behind you before moving further into the room towards them.

“Are you alright?” you whispered.

“I am so happy you are here,” Castiel’s voice sounded as you simultaneously saw his movement from behind Sam and Dean. Aiming your gun up over their heads quickly, you were faced with him pointing a gun at you in return. He had stepped from the patio – which you had so stupidly neglected to make a priority to check before attempting to help Dean and Sam. And now you were paying for it.

Swallowing sharply, you kept your eyes and gun trained on him, waiting for him to act.

His lips broke into that all too familiar, charming smirk. “Well, this is quite arousing. Really gets the blood pumping, does it not, kitten?”

“Let them go.”

“No,” Castiel said, before adding with a chuckle. “Well, that certainly felt odd. Denying you something. First time for everything I suppose. No, they are staying where they are, and you are going to participate in this little exercise. But first… how do you like the room? We could redecorate if it is not to your liking.”

“I don’t give a damn about the room, Castiel.”

Cocking his head slightly, he sighed, “Still not keen on the settling down, I see. Fine, we can sell the house and figure out something else. Johnny did tell me I was being foolish when I told him I intended to stay here with you and passed the reins of the group to him yesterday. Apparently, he was correct. Perhaps he sensed you were a free spirit, which I can appreciate, obviously, me being me.”

“But of course,” Castiel exhaled loudly. “We can discuss that later. What we are here for is your liberation.”

Narrowing your eyes, you demanded, “What do you mean?”

Pointing between the boys, Castiel declared, “Liberation from them. I figured it out, kitten. How we can be together. You clearly do deep down –” you began to shake your head, but he pressed firmly. “No, do not do that. You do not have to lie anymore. To me or yourself. They are the whole problem. The thing that is holding you back from being with me. And more importantly, holding you back from becoming the pinnacle of the best version of yourself. You would be free without them.”

“They have to go,” Castiel shrugged, as if he was merely suggesting something as simple as choosing what to have for dinner. “You choose one to kill with your gun and I will utilize your bone knife gift in the best possible way I could imagine, and I will do away with the other.”

Shaking your head once more, tears pricked your eyes. You were terrified, trying to figure out how to get the three of you out of this situation. If you did not do what he asked, he might just kill you all. Or worse, he would kill Dean and Sam and leave you alive.

“Castiel, I cannot. You cannot ask me to do that. It is unfair.”

“What is unfair is you allowing yourself to be chained down and stifled because of your sense of obligation to stay with them. You do not owe them anything. You were the one who was smartest, saved them, probably more times than you can count. You are constantly dragged down by them and I wish to only help you find salvation.”

“Think of it, Y/N. We could have this place or wherever you want, just for us.” Castiel emphasized the last, his eyes flashing in excitement. He truly imagined a life with you, the two of you happy. “I am free now of my thugs – although we can always call on them if need be, if you want a somewhat misfit family – and you could be free of these two. We can have that and so much more because of it. With my skills and your wit, we can be unstoppable.”

He pleaded, “Do it. For us, kitten. It will be an easy cleanup on the hardwood and then we can move past this.”

There was intense fear in Sam and Dean’s eyes as you locked eyes with them. It was hard to speak, it felt like there was a lump the size of a golf ball in your throat. But you thought you had a plan, albeit a risky one, to try to get you out of here.

“Just one? I only have to choose one to die?”

Sam and Dean protested against their gags and you forced yourself to look away from them to stare Castiel down, ignoring their angered yells.

Castiel looked elated that you seemed to be agreeing to play along. “Yes. You only have to choose one to die.”

In a swift motion, you placed the barrel of the gun against your temple.

Castiel’s face immediately fell, shock painted on his features, while Dean and Sam only yelled louder, their protests muffled.

Lowering his own gun slightly, Castiel put his free hand out gingerly towards you. “Now… kitten… that is not –”

“You just said I had to choose one to die,” you stated firmly.

“I –”

“You said one.”

He shook his head, looking unnerved. “I meant them. You know this is not what I meant.”

“I asked you for clarification and you didn’t mention them this time. Am I wrong?”

Grinding his teeth, Castiel’s gaze was piercing. He stepped closer and you pressed the gun deeper into your skin. He stopped and let out a nervous chuckle, “Y/N, my sweet, let us not be rash here…”

You had caught him off guard, outsmarted him and his game.

“Please, Y/N. We should talk about this,” Castiel told you, looking as if he was breaking out into a cold sweat. You had never seen him lose his composure, but he clearly was now and was desperately trying to keep it under wraps. “I admit that you won that round. You found a loophole – you always, always impress me. But this is not…”

Not how he wanted it to go, you thought as he trailed off.

He took another step towards you timidly and you took one back. Clenching his jaw, he stilled again. “Y/N. We do not have to play anymore. This… it is not important. We can do something else. You and me. We do not have to play if you do not want to anymore.”

“I do want to, Castiel.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, watching you intently. “And you said one and I am ending this now.”

Suddenly, Castiel lunged at you and you reacted instantaneously, pulling your gun away from your head, and shooting him directly in the chest.

Time slowed, a gasp leaving your mouth, seeing him stumble to a stop. He was staring at you in disbelief, eyes squinted in confusion. Sluggishly, he turned his chin down, looking down at the blood that was beginning to trickle out of the hole in his chest. He brought his hand up, fingers brushing the blood, staring at it staining his gloves.

“One,” you whispered, tears stinging as one escaped down your cheek.

He met your gaze again, tears in his own eyes, and you ached at the sight. Blood was beginning to seep now, staining his white dress shirt in a stream.

Choking, he got out, “Well played… kitten.”

Collapsing to the hardwood, Castiel choked on the blood now trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

You were at his side, your own gun tossed aside, and you knocked his away from his hand far out of his reach. Staring down at him, you brushed his hair out of his face and whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Castiel reached up, his hand coming to rest on your face. Your chest tightened, seeing the pain etched in his features. Despite it, he was drinking you in as the life melted away in his eyes.

“One… just once…” he breathed raggedly. His fingers brushed your lips, squeezing slightly, and you understood.

Leaning forward, your lips met his gently, deepening the gesture as a tear fell from your face, landing on his cheek. You could not believe you were kissing him but how could you deny him? You knew monsters were made and your heart ached about what he could have been if he had had a different path.

Breathing shakily, you pulled away, finding him smiling up at you before coughing in pain. He forced another smile, his eyes glistening.

“Even better… better than I dreamed.”

It was your turn to choke, a small sob leaving your throat. His eyelids fluttered, as he struggled to keep his eyes on you as he slipped away. When his head tipped to the side, you shuddered, touching his shoulders gently. You had killed him. He was gone. Blood surrounded you on the floor, and you stared down at your hands that were covered.

Unsteadily, you rose from the floor, hands shaking. More sobs erupted as the shock overtook you and you stumbled back away from him, staring at him lying in a pool of his own blood.

The muffled cries coming from Sam and Dean drew your attention away from him. You were snapped back to the present, remembering that they were there. Wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your jacket, you ducked back down, searching through Castiel’s pockets as you cried, gasping for air. Bile rose in your throat at the act of searching his corpse, but you found the keys quickly.

Freeing Sam and Dean, you felt in a haze, having zeroed in on Castiel again. You could not believe he was dead. He had not given you any other choice. One deep breath after another you swallowed down, trying to calm yourself.

Sam’s hand was at your back, startling you, and he said gently, “Come on, Y/N. We have to go.”

You shook your head in response. “We should bury him,” you said quietly, wiping at your tears again.

“We can’t just bury him on the property, Y/N.”

You shook your head again more forcibly this time, turning your attention back. “Not here. Somewhere else.” You met their eyes and told them, “It is the smart thing to do. Clean up the mess and take the body. You know it. Without a body or a crime scene, they won’t go looking for him. His men I mean if they ever come back looking for him. They’ll think we eloped. And then there won’t be a crime scene for the cops to worry about. The house is far enough off the road that there won’t be any neighbors snooping. Plus, it’s dark outside.”

After a few moments, Dean exhaled sharply, “Fuck.” He knew you were right. “Fine. Let’s get to it. But we are wrapping him in so many sheets that blood won’t ever touch Baby.”

You had the urge to slap Dean across the face for speaking ill of the dead.

<> <> <>

Exhausted, you collapsed to the ground next to the freshly dug grave. Staring down at the wet soil, you sniffled, tears pricking again. Sam and Dean were standing nearby, as tired as you were, and you tried to hide your face from them.

Sorry, it’s not the landscape you were born into, you thought, thinking of Castiel. You had buried him beneath a large tree in a forested area, a sharp contrast to the desert.

You sighed heavily, wiping at your eyes again.

It had to be done.

He was going to kill them.

So why did you feel so bad?

You touched the dirt softly at the edge of the mound, thinking of the lake.

Movement to your right caught your attention and Sam was sitting on the ground next to you. He reached out, grasping your hand that was touching the dirt, and pulled you back from the edge. His hand was warm, his grasp firm. He did not say anything, just sat there with you in silence.

Dean sat down on the other side and he pulled you to him, letting you lay your head on his shoulder. Birds chirped softly as the sun began to rise, a soft morning emerging after a hard night.

Dirty, bloody, and exhausted, the three of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as the sun crept across the earth, illuminating the grave.

“Monsters are made,” you whispered.

Sighing softly, Dean told you gently, “Monsters all the same.”

It was the truth, but this was one monster you knew you would always regret killing because he had bared his human side to you. Some small part of you thought you could have helped him, as foolish as that was. Pulled him towards some semblance of normalcy and fix him. But he had no intention of changing, he wanted you to just accept him the way he was and you could not.

Hopefully, you would eventually be able to find a way to live with yourself. Until then, those cerulean eyes would haunt your dreams.

Eventually, Dean asked, “We ready?”

Burying your feelings for the time being, you answered calmly, “Always.”

This hurt was going to be your burden to bear.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[theballadoffinchesandsaints]

Why don’t you like Mara and Noah together?

I’ll preface this by saying that, on the spectrum of fictional relationships that I find problematic, these two are fairly close to healthy. I do not think these two are past the point of no return, and I do not think they were always unhealthy. If issues that have arisen in the past few books are carefully dealt with in last confessions (the upcoming 6th and final book), I would be more than happy to see these two get back together and a live long happy lives with each other. This might end up being a tad disorganized, so bare with me.

Now Mara and Noah had a bit of a damsel in distress/knight in shining armor thing going on during unbecoming and evolution (books 1 and 2). However, I don’t see anything inherently wrong with this so long as Mara is able to get her emotional independence fully back eventually. And by retribution and becoming (books 3 and 4), I do think she got there. The issue that arose here is more of a character flaw with Mara than anything else. She gained back her independence in retribution and becoming with violence (the boys in the subway she almost killed because they were verbally harassing someone, sacrificing all those cops to save Noah, and murdering Noah’s dad). I worry that Mara’s shadow tendencies take over too much when she is fighting for Noah or simply with Noah. This is one of many reasons I appreciate that Mara and Noah were separated during reckoning (book 5). While Noah was learning to live on his own, Mara was able to do the same thing somewhere else. We don’t know how well that went, but we’ll find out in last confessions, and I’m hopeful.

The second issue is the common YA trope: trust. One of the beautiful things about Mara and Noah’s relationship in unbecoming and evolution was the level of full disclosure they reached. As far as I can remember, by the end of evolution, they kept no prominent secrets from each other. There were stumbles along the way with moments like Mara reading Noah’s diary, but that was one mistake, and she felt awful about it almost immediately and came clean. Unfortunately, things started to spiral in retribution. We know that both Mara and Noah went through some of their worst trauma of the series so far during retribution as they were experimented on by those paid to keep them healthy. The sad thing is that these things happened to them while they were apart, and they let it grow a wall between them. There’s this section of retribution that has always bugged me where Mara and Noah are lying in bed together, and Mara notes how things feel different between her and Noah, less intimate and close. Of course, change after trauma is inevitable and should be accepted, but the fact that she does not feel the need to address this new distance again and works towards regaining their emotional closeness through open conversation worries me. Instead, they have a short conversation about the nature of their relationship as pertaining to the hero and shadow archetypes and what that means for the future. It could be argued that this is a symbolic conversation that does represent the two growing back together, but it does not explicitly address the things each has gone through and the ways they have changed. Instead, they each make their own assumptions and call it understanding. Finally, instead of opting for a discussion to correct the mistakes made when assuming, the two have sex. This brings me to my third point.

At times when Mara and Noah are keeping secrets from each other or are deeply upset over something, they use sex as a coping mechanism. Let’s go encounter by encounter. I have already explained the issues with the time at the end of retribution, so i’ll skip that one here. The second one, while they technically did not have sex, is close enough even besides the point that it was their full intention to do so. This scene takes place at Noah’s dad’s funeral when they sneek off instead of attending the service. Of course, it’s worth bringing up here that the service is Mara’s fault. She killed Noah’s dad in cold blood (I know Noah’s dad was an awful person and deserved what he got, but that’s not the point) and kept it a secret. Now, Noah hated his dad. There’s a good chance he would have agreed with killing his dad or at least been ambivalent if told. He even says that his dad really died with his mother. But Mara didn’t tell Noah, she kept it a secret, and there’s no way that wasn’t on her mind when they were kissing on that altar. Noah, on the other hand, used the physical aspect of his relationship with Mara to avoid dealing with his feelings over his dad’s death, even if he wasn’t truly grief-stricken. It’s escapism, plain and simple, and it’s not healthy. Finally, later in retribution, there’s the first night at their apartment. I don’t remember precisely what he was doing, but Noah snuck away from his group of friends to work on something he was keeping secret from Mara. When she confronts him on this, Noah is evasive. Then he distracts her by kissing her, and Mara stops asking about Noah’s secret. In all three of these scenarios, Mara and Noah use sex, not as a way to express love, but as a way to run from their problems or hide their guilt.

Finally, both Mara and Noah are deeply uncomfortable with the way each views and uses their power. Neither person is particularly at fault in these instances, but it demonstrates an extreme disconnect glossed over by the ways they view each other. Examples with Mara’s powers are everywhere. Noah breaks up with her because of them. The cops, his dad, it horrifies him, and he doesn’t even know about the boys on the subway in retribution. He assumed he understood her darkness by the end of retribution, but they never really broke down the wall that had formed between them. Then there’s Noah’s power. At the party at Noah and Mara’s flat, Noah wants to prove to Goose that his powers are real. To Mara’s horror, Noah says he’ll cut himself so Goose can watch the cut heal itself even though he and Mara previously agreed that he would never try to hurt himself again. In the same way that the worst thing in Noah’s eyes that Mara could do is sacrifice dozens of seemingly good people for him, the worst thing Noah could do to Mara is hurt himself. And yet, they’re both willing to do these things to each other even though they know it hurts them. At least, Noah certainly does. But, while Mara might have believed she was doing a good thing for Noah, she was not open about it like Noah was.

All in all, things were really reaching a boiling point at the end of becoming, and I’m glad they separated. This way, they can work through their own personal issues separately and then focus on fixing their relationship. Because I truly am rooting for these two. It is certainly possible that Mara and Noah can make peace with each other, themselves, and their emotions enough to be better together than they are apart. This is why the end of reckoning scares me. Noah losing his memories of Mara seems like a set-up to a darkest minds style ending where the characters never really get past their relationship issues. These two need to accept their past and learn from their mistakes, not try to forget everything. I hope that will be the theme of the final book. Then maybe madness could turn into happiness.

(The Mara Dyer/Shaw Confessions series is written by @michellehodkin)

[hotchslut]

believe it’s the fright

spencer reid/reader (strangers to enemies to lovers)

week one | week two | week three | week four | week five | week six | week seven | week eight | week nine | week ten

summary: y/n gets drunk and finds a new way to get under spencer’s skin. (part 2 of series. part 1 linked above.)

As the team gathered at the round table, (y/n) made a point of pulling up next to Hotch. The two had spent a lot of time together around the office in the past week and she had actually grown quite fond of him. He was patient with her and never made her feel inferior for asking questions, even the stupid ones. Everyone was always calling him uptight, remarking how he didn’t have a sense of humor, but (y/n) knew better. Although she had yet to make him break, she knew he was just being professional, and he never seemed to mind when (y/n) got a little goofy with him.

“Good morning, Hotchy,” (y/n) singsonged, grabbing his iPad from in front of him to get a good look at the crime scene photos before Garcia explained the case.

Spencer was sat across from her, twiddling that fucking pen between his fingers. “(y/n), it’s 6 in the morning, do you need to be so loud?” he whined, reaching for a sip of his coffee. 

Even after last week's long case, she had never seen Spencer look so tired. He was almost always early to work, and not once had he made a complaint about it being too early. Sure today they had been called in a little earlier than usual, but Spencer just didn’t strike her as a night owl. “Late night, Spencer?” She prodded, reaching to kick him under the table but she couldn’t quite reach.

“Why do you care about how I spend my nights, (y/n),” he groaned, palming his tired eye.

“Who was she?” (y/n) leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear, trying to read any hint Spencer gave her. 

Before he had the chance to reply, Garcia flew into the room and addressed the team, “Alright, my friends, I am so sorry, but this one is a bit of a downer.”

Without saying a word, Hotch took his iPad back from (y/n), but positioned it so she was able to look over at the screen. Luckily, this case was happening right at home in Virginia, so the team wouldn’t be completely abandoning her for the next couple of days. 

Everyone contributed to the debriefing of what exactly they’d be looking for. Even (y/n) had an idea or two. They were shot down quite fast, but it still felt nice to be involved. Once everyone was on the same page, Hotch began assigning everyone to their tasks. “JJ and Morgan, I’ll have you down with the M.E., Rossi I want you to head down to the first crime scene. Reid, you and I will go interview the suspect who’s in police custody. Being here in Virginia means I’ll have you shadow me throughout the case, (y/n).” Everyone nodded in agreement and started to head on their separate ways.

While (y/n) was ecstatic to actually have the opportunity to learn some more practical skills, she was a little peeved that it was going to be with Spencer. To her, it would’ve made more sense to send him to the medical examiner or to the crime scene; What was this high-pitched skinny kid going to do to interrogate a potential murderer? She levelled with herself, believing that no matter what happened, she could probably get a good laugh out of the whole thing.

 (y/n) was nervous as she entered the police station. She had never stepped foot in one, despite the fact she probably deserved to a few times. It made her a little uneasy to know that the highlight she was wearing had been shoplifted from Sephora just a couple months prior, so she just took a moment to thank God she had never been caught.

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer asked, as they walked side by side, trailing slightly behind Hotch.

The question took her off guard. She despised when people asked what she was thinking about. If she wanted them to know, she would’ve simply said it out loud. Besides, most of the time she wasn’t even thinking anything at all. There wasn’t always a whole lot going on up there. “This is my first time in a cop shop,” she explained, taking in the room.

“That’s surprising,” he quipped. 

 After introducing (y/n) to the sheriff, he led the pair into the interrogation room. 

“This is just like the movies,” (y/n) remarked, spinning around to look at each gray wall before heading to the one way mirror. Inside sat a man, probably larger than Hotch and Spencer combined.

“This isn’t supposed to be fun,” Spencer judged when he saw the look of amusement in (y/n)’s eyes.

After observing the suspect a moment longer, she turned to the profiler and barked, “So why did you choose to do it for a living then?”

“To help people,” Spencer replied, holding eye contact. He shrugged while speaking with a sincerity in his eyes that (y/n) didn’t feel would be appropriate to challenge. 

Accepting her defeat, she turned back to the suspect while Hotch joined on the other side of her. The three stood for a moment trying to read the man. “He doesn’t look nervous,” (y/n) profiled, though she wasn’t sure exactly what that would mean.

“Not yet,” Spencer replied, walking towards the door with Hotch following close behind.

 When he saw the agents walk in, the man grinned. It left (y/n) with a gross feeling inside. She always had good intuition when it came to people, and she knew just by looking at him that he was certainly guilty of something. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything to actually back that up, as someone's vibes wouldn’t exactly hold up in court. 

She watched intently as Hotch and Spencer worked through their interrogation, taking mental notes of how they executed their approach. The team had previously profiled their unsub as a narcissist psychopath who viewed the women he had killed as surrogates, though they were struggling with identifying who exactly they were surrogates for. In (y/n)’s fairly unprofessional opinion, it didn’t seem the boys were getting too far. While she absolutely felt herself learning some valuable tools she was hoping to get the chance to apply later, she also found herself having fun watching unknowingly timid Spencer act tough towards this monster of a man. After about an hour of back and forth, Hotch and Spencer accepted their temporary loss and stood up to walk back into the room (y/n) was standing in. 

“Am I wrong in assuming you didn’t get too much out of that?” (y/n) tried to sympathize.

Hotch remained silent, trying to replay in his head everything he had heard. Spencer’s brows were furrowed as he looked down quizzically. His jaw hung open as his tongue ran across his lips. (y/n) could tell he was thinking hard as his facial movements and expressions seemed to be a subconscious effort. “Actually, yes,” he finally spoke. He looked up, looking at Hotch then (y/n), trying to come up with the right wording. “Yes, you’re wrong,” he swallowed before bringing his hands up to continue his monologue. Sometimes (y/n) thought the way he spoke with his hands was going to give her whiplash, but she also knew that was just her being dramatic. “He mentioned before that he was raised to respect women and would therefore never do something like this, but when we asked further about his family he retorted that that was personal and not relevant to the case. This was the only time he mentioned someone other than himself,” Spencer explained rather quickly. 

“That’s sus,” (y/n) replied in an attempt to help Spencer feel validated in the direction he was going. Instead, he just glared at her, implying she had overstepped and he wasn’t finished talking.

“This guy is proving to be a textbook narcissist. We need to have Garcia dig up anything she can on his family,” Spencer paused, making sure he truly believed what he was about to say before continuing, “I think the women are surrogates for his mother.”

Hotch nodded, gesturing for Spencer to continue. “See what Garcia can pull up before making any assumptions with him,” he explained. It was clear Hotch trusted any of Spencer’s instincts, but he still wanted all approaches to be tackled thoroughly. 

Spencer dug into his pocket and rapidly pulled out his phone and dialed for Garcia. “Hello, my pretty little brainiac, please tell me you’re giving me something to do,” she pleaded through the speaker phone. (y/n) took note that apparently “pretty little brainiac” was acceptable but “Spence” was crossing a line. In her opinion, the former seemed a little more demeaning. 

Garcia worked quickly, giving Spencer all the information he needed and then some. “I need to talk to him again,” he told Hotch, without hinting at what it was exactly he needed to talk about.

Hotch gave him the go ahead while himself and (y/n) took their positions at the window. When Spencer reapproached the suspect, he didn’t speak until he slammed both his hands down on the desk separating them, leaning far enough in that he could’ve hardly breathed out a whisper and it would have sufficed. Instead, he yelled directly at the man. 

“What the fuck is he doing?” (y/n) posed, trying not to laugh.

Hotch patiently explained the tactic and why it was going to work on this specific individual. (y/n) understood, but she couldn’t help but feel it would’ve been more effective had it been Hotch doing the screaming. Nothing about Spencer was scary. Sure he could be a little snappy, but when it came to being threatening, (y/n) got more scared walking past a group of teenagers than hearing Spencer attempt to forcefully bellow accusations.

--------

In the police station conference room, Spencer stood staring at the bulletin board, tracing his fingers across a map. Hotch was playing and replaying certain sections of the recording from Spencer’s interrogation while (y/n) sat at the desk across from him, impatiently tapping her foot. She had finished the small amount of paperwork that was ready to be processed and was fading fast from her early rise. 

“Soooo,” she breathed out. She was not only tired, but she was starting to go stir crazy in this tiny room. Hotch looked up at her while Spencer continued tracing his finger between crime scenes. “What are you going to do? Don’t you have to either make an arrest or let him go by 24 hours?” 

Hotch decided to turn this into a teaching moment, which (y/n) was not at the brain capacity to handle. “What do you think we should do?” he quizzed.

“Let him go,” she said point blank. “Dude’s weird as hell but you don’t have any evidence. Also, you have his contact information, it’s not like you can’t change your mind later.” 

“That’s not exactly the most tactful approach,” Spencer judged, not bothering to turn around to face her.

Hotch had to agree with both of them. “It might not be tactful, but she’s right. We don’t have any evidence. I think we need to rethink our profile.”

Spencer tried to hide his disappointment - The team wasn’t usually wrong, and it was never fun to have to start over when they had worked so hard. “The profile’s not wrong,” he fought. He knew that for sure, and while the man they were holding definitely fit the description they were looking for, he couldn’t argue that they could at the very least have the wrong guy.

“Hotch, do you mind if I go grab a coffee?” she asked, knowing she was going to pass out right on the table if she didn’t fuel herself soon. “Like, not the break room coffee,” she clarified. 

Needing a pick-me-up himself, Hotch handed (y/n) a $20 and instructed her to bring him back one, as well. 

Spencer finally spun around, his ears perking up at the idea of coffee, like a dog whose owner had just called for a walk. (y/n) looked over to him, and it was no surprise he was also flashing her some unintentional puppy dog eyes while he whined, “Me too, please.”

“But, Spencie, I don’t know your order,” she whined back. She took a risk with the nickname, and while he didn’t look happy, it didn’t earn her the same outburst that “Spence” did.

“Spencer, you can go with her, I’m going to go release our suspect,” Hotch instructed.

 Spencer and (y/n) walked down the street by the police station. Neither of them were sure exactly where they were going, but assumed they’d pass by a coffee shop quite quickly. As they walked on the path, Spencer tried bringing up his hand to speak, accidentally brushing (y/n)’s. “Are you trying to hold my hand, Spencer?” she joked before he had the chance to speak. Spencer grew flustered and annoyed at the accusation. 

“No-”

(y/n) laughed, loving how riled up she could get Spencer over practically nothing. “Don’t be shy,” she taunted, reaching out and grabbing his hand. 

He quickly and rather aggressively pulled his hand away. “I don’t like touching.” 

“I don’t have cooties.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He looked down at her and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, however, it was one of those tight and thin-lipped smiles. The kind that showed her that he was proud of himself for his bitchy remark.

She laughed again, showing him she wasn’t actually offended. Pissing off Spencer was fun and hearing the often well-spoken and put together doctor stoop to her level was the highest form of entertainment for her. Her intention was never to create a hostile work environment, and she definitely didn’t want Spencer to hate her, despite how much she disliked him. Nothing she had said had been a lie. She found him to be incredibly annoying and everytime she thought he was growing on her, he would go off on one of his statistics tangents that made her want to rip her ears off. Although, being around Spencer wasn’t necessarily the worst thing in the world, but it wasn’t because she liked him. It was because she loved making his day a little worse by annoying the hell out of him. She knew that probably made her a bad person, but she couldn’t control it. He made it so easy. She figured as long as it didn’t escalate to them going home at the end of the day crying and that they were able to remain at least kind of professional around each other, there was really no harm in having a little fun. 

 -------- 

Spencer was right. She hated to admit it, but it was something she was going to have to get used to. The case closed in just under 2 and a half days and the whole crew had just finished handing their reports in to Hotch. It turned out the man they had been holding had, in fact, been a psychopath, but when the true unsub claimed another victim as Hotch was releasing him, it was evident he was not the man they were looking for.

(y/n) was the last one to hand in her work and saw everyone packing up as he headed down the stairs to the bullpen. “I am exhausted,” she practically yelled on her way over to her desk. She didn’t know how the rest of the team did it, she was hardly involved and the case had taken a significant toll on her energy levels. “I love almost all of you, but I cannot wait to not talk to anyone until tomorrow.”

“Almost all of us?” JJ pestered.

“Spencer’s got some work to do,” (y/n) explained, looking over at the boy who refused to give her more than an eyeroll in response. If he was being honest, he was getting pretty sick of always being the butt of her jokes. He wondered if it would kill her to just leave him alone for 5 minutes. He didn’t care that they didn’t get along, he knew he wasn’t going to get along with every person he met, but there was no reason for her to have made that comment. 

“Well, I’ve got some bad news for you, (y/n),” Garcia chimed in from her position sitting on top of Derek’s desk. 

(y/n) threw herself into her chair dramatically. “Not another case already,” she groaned, looking up at her.

“No, no, don’t worry,” she soothed her with a chuckle, “Rossi’s buying everyone drinks at O’Keefe’s AND since you’re new to the family, you haven’t had a night out with us, so you have to come.”

(y/n) had never heard of O’Keefe’s, but if there were going to be drinks she didn’t have to pay for, she was without a doubt going to be there. A new burst of energy rang through her body, as she quickly stood up and threw her purse over her shoulder. “So what are we doing here?” she asked. 

The whole group celebrated as they began walking towards the elevators and towards the bar. They hadn’t had a night out in what felt like forever, so each of them were determined to make the most of it.

 “May I suggest,” (y/n) spoke loudly with a sly grin, “a round of shots since it’s, like, my first night out with the gang?” 

Everyone was seated around a fairly small table that they had to pull extra chairs up to. (y/n) was squeezed between Spencer and JJ so tightly that her legs were touching both of them. She didn’t think anything of it, in fact she hardly noticed. That’s what happens when 7 people fit around a table for 5. Spencer on the other hand, grew incredibly uncomfortable.

“A round of shots it is,” Rossi exclaimed, waving a waitress over. “Seven shots, please,” he asked once she arrived.

“Six,” Spencer spoke softly.

(y/n) turned her whole body to face him and in doing so, unintentionally placed his leg ever so slightly between her thighs. “You’re getting one, what the fuck?” 

He tried not to squirm at his discomfort. “I don’t drink.”

“Like, ever?” (y/n) laughed, only slightly judging him. She knew people had completely valid reasons for not drinking, and under normal circumstances she would never pry or pressure, but nothing regarding Spencer was ever a normal circumstance. 

“Not really, no,” he shrugged. Noticing that wasn’t good enough for her, he continued, “Every so often on special occasions.”

“Is this not a special occasion?” she asked, turning her body back to receive her shot. She noticed everyone had one, one had even been slid across to land in front of Spencer. 

He laughed at her, too quietly to hear, but anyone could see it. It was one of those moments where he had to rethink where it was he stood with her. Every single thing she said was enough to make him want to scream in resentment, but she was so fucking charming about it all. “Because it’s your first night out with us?” 

“Because it’s my first night out with you!”

“Not good enough,” he said, sliding his shot away from him again.

JJ peeked over (y/n) to get a good look at Spencer. “C’mon, Spence, are you going to do it or not? We’re ready to go!” 

Suddenly (y/n)’s whole demeanor changed. Being seated with a group of profilers, she didn’t want anyone to notice, so she tried her best to smile along, but she was mad. She was infuriated. Though, she didn’t know why. Why could JJ call him “Spence” when she couldn’t? It wasn’t just that she couldn’t, it was that he got mean when she did. She wasn’t sure why this was affecting her so much. She realized JJ and Spencer had been friends for years before she had even entered the picture, but something about it still stung. Frustrated with herself for allowing herself to even care, she decided it was time to drink. And hard. “It’s fine, I’ll take yours for you,” she spoke, reaching across him to grab the shot, refusing to look at him.

 As the night carried on, (y/n) could feel herself getting a little too drunk, but she didn’t mind. It wasn’t just because of Spencer, either. She was feeling genuinely happy as she conversed and joked around with the rest of the team. She hadn’t known them very long, but they were so welcoming and friendly, she felt perfectly at ease. 

Everyone else seemed to be feeling the effects, too. Rossi and Hotch had left about an hour prior, but not after loosening up a bit themselves, which was fun for (y/n) to see, considering how they usually were at work. Derek was at the pool table trying to pick up girls when JJ looked to Penelope and invited her up to the bar to get another drink, leaving (y/n) and Spencer still seated. 

“Hey,” (y/n) began, naturally putting her hand on Spencer’s thigh to address him, “Let’s go play darts.”

Spencer obliged, but mostly because he didn’t want to just sit there at the table trying to converse with an intoxicated girl who he didn’t necessarily enjoy the company of even when she was sober. Maybe he did need a drink to get through this night.

 “I’m really good at this,” she slurred, throwing the first dart. She was right, she almost got a bullseye first try. Luckily, Spencer wasn’t bad himself. At least this meant it would be a fun challenge for both of them.

They mostly played in silence, which (y/n) never found awkward, but Spencer grew anxious. “So, you got Hotch tonight,” he remarked.

“What do you mean?” She scrunched her nose up, completely unsure of what it was he was referring to. Trying to rack her brain for what it was, she stumbled slightly, grabbing onto Spencer’s shoulder for support, just in case. “Sorry, sorry, you don’t like touching,” she apologized, immediately letting go. Usually she wouldn’t apologize for making him feel bad, but she understood where anxiety around touching could stem from and didn’t want to cross any non-verbal lines.

“It’s okay, just don’t think so hard, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he spewed. He knew she was just holding on for support, so he wasn’t exactly mad about it. An apology for all the leg touching might go a long way though. 

Any trace of a smile on (y/n)’s face disappeared. The last thing she wanted to hear in that moment was a dig at her intelligence. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling as bad about getting handsy.  

“I just meant you cracked him tonight,” he explained. When she didn’t reply he could feel himself burning up a little, hoping he hadn’t completely missed the mark. “That’s what you’ve been trying to do isn’t it? Make him laugh?”

Suddenly (y/n) forgot about being offended. The alcohol was definitely screwing around with her emotions. “Yeah, how’d you know? But, like, tonight doesn’t count. I’m wasted, he was drunk… It doesn’t count. I’m going to make him crack in the office,” she delivered almost like a dramatic monologue. 

Spencer laughed. He would love to see that. The pair continued with their game as Derek walked over to join them.

“Nooo!” (y/n) yelled as she saw him approaching. “You struck out?” she asked, part sympathetically and part sarcastically, placing a hand on his arm.

Spencer noticed the gesture and thought about how now that Derek was here and she was self-described “wasted’, she was just going to start putting her hands all over him. He just hoped that meant he was safe.

“No, actually,” he corrected her, “The ladies were just heading to the bathroom. I thought maybe boy genius here would like to join me when they come back.”

(y/n) grew ecstatic at the idea. “Baby boy gonna go get his flirt on?” she teased. She had seen the girls Derek was talking to and they were HOT. Way out of Spencer’s league, that’s for sure. Which, if (y/n) was being honest, might leave Spencer emotionally bruised after a night of trying to talk with them, but for her, it was going to be a hoot.

“I’m okay, thank you,” he told Derek, pursing his lips.

“Oh, come on! Don’t you want to impress them with some magic tricks?” Derek baited.

“40 year old virgin over here,” (y/n) told Derek, causing the both of them to snicker.

Spencer on the other hand, didn’t find it as funny. “I’m 33,” he reminded them.

“Still a virgin,” (y/n) mocked.

He wasn’t sure why this made him so upset. It’s not like his sexual life was any of his coworkers business. He couldn’t hide the fact he was slightly humiliated, however. “No, I’m not, thank you.” The way he spoke, hitting each consonant, would’ve been enough to make (y/n) ears bleed, had she not been currently inebriated. 

Derek knew this, of course. Derek was probably the only person besides Spencer who was familiar with the ins and outs of Spencer’s kind of existent, but not exactly exciting sex life. 

Seeing Spencer getting all worked up over the subject of sex was filling (y/n) with a kind of seratonin she hadn’t felt in quite a while. He said it himself, he was 33, so why did the subject get him so rattled? Just then, the girls exited the bathroom and walked back over to the pool table. “Spencer, if you don’t go try to fuck one of those girls then I will,” (y/n) said, eyes not drifting from the two girls.

“You don’t have to talk about them like that,” Spencer complained.

At this point, the alcohol had completely settled in, leaving (y/n) without a care in the world about what she did or said. “But they’re so hot. Look at them,” she pleaded, waving her hands to prompt Spencer to turn around. 

He knew they were pretty, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for trying to pick someone up when he knew they were cooler than him and that it probably wouldn’t end well for him. 

“Don’t you just want to take them home, rip their clothes off, and dominate the hell out of them,” (y/n) asked, finally turning back to face him. She could tell he was trying to suppress any emotions, which clearly meant it wasn’t working out well for him. Knowing she’d be able to get him completely riled up, she didn’t want to quit. “They’d probably sound so fucking good moaning underneath you while you took control. C’mon, Spencer, I’ve seen you take charge. I bet you want to slam them onto a table like you did with your hands in that interrogation room the other day.” She was lying through her teeth. There was no way Spencer had a dominant bone in his body. Sure, he faked it well enough on the job, at least sort of. In the bedroom though, she knew this boy had to be all missionary all the time.

Spencer was thoroughly embarrassed. Conversations revolving around sex were generally a no-go for him anyways, but hearing someone talk about him, did anything but turn him on. He was done and he wanted to go home. Besides, it was going on 1am and all of them had work the next day. “Let’s go home,” he finally said. He didn’t want (y/n) to see how uneasy this conversation was making him, so he decided to just drop it completely.

“You want to take me home?” (y/n) faked flattery. 

“I’ll take that as my cue to go,” Derek said, leaving to join the girls by the pool table again. He knew they weren’t actually going home together, but he would’ve used anything as an excuse to get away.

“That’s not what I mean,” Spencer exhaled, feeling her getting under his skin worse than she had before. “I mean you’re embarrassingly drunk, it’s late, and we both have work in the morning.”

(y/n) didn’t want to leave. She was having fun, but she knew he was right. “Will you drive me home?” 

“I don’t drive,” he told her. He was just going to leave it at that, but no matter how much he despised this girl, especially right now, he wasn’t just going to leave her drunk in the bar with no way of getting home. 

“What, you want me to drive then?” she half joked but with a little too much anger in her tone.

Spencer was exasperated. She was impossible. “We’ll share a cab,” he tried to reason.

“No, I hate cabs.”

“What? Why do you hate cabs?” He started doing the thing where he overused his hands and spoke at an extremely high pitch. He was simply overwhelmed. “You want to take the subway with me?” he finally asked, thoroughly vanquished. 

“I think that would be fun.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to walk towards the door. Shocked by how quickly he was moving, (y/n) rushed after him to catch up. 

 She had had fun that night. If anything, she was happy to have a new way to get at Spencer and couldn’t wait to get to work and grind his gears a little more the next day. As they walked silently to the station, Spencer occasionally held his arm out to make sure (y/n) was balanced. Even if she was doing fine, he got nervous. The events of the night kept replaying in his mind. It was one of those nights where he cursed his eidetic memory. Meanwhile, (y/n) couldn’t stop thinking about the irony of everyone calling Hotch the uptight one, when it was really Spencer who couldn’t seem to let loose. She was going to have to change that.

“Hey, Spencer,” (y/n) intruded on the silence as they stood waiting for the train. 

“Mhm,” he replied, still relatively lost in his own thoughts.

“Do you know you’re hot?” she pondered. 

That was enough to get Spencer out of his head and into the moment. “What do you mean?”

(y/n) groaned, “Do you know you’re hot? What the fuck don’t you understand?”

Spencer swallowed nervously and placed his hands in his pockets, thinking of what to say. Truthfully, he never really thought about it. It didn’t exactly matter. He definitely had days or weeks of feeling self conscious over his looks, but who didn’t? “You know,” he began, and if (y/n) wasn’t so far gone she would’ve picked up on his nervousness, “1 in 10 men actually think they’re hot.”

“So, do you?” she continued to pry. She looked up to him and while he could feel her trying to catch his gaze, he just kept looking ahead. “I would totally go home with you if it weren’t for your personality.”

“Thank you, (y/n), that’s great to hear - That it’s not my looks which are the problem, but my personality.” He was clearly offended, but she didn’t understand exactly why. She had spent the past two weeks telling him how annoying she thought he was. 

“Don’t be such a little bitch about it,” she exclaimed, “I think you’re annoying but everyone else seems to love you.” While there may have been a sort of backhanded compliment in there somewhere, the way she spoke would suggest otherwise.

Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes until the subway arrived. When it finally did and the doors opened, (y/n) grabbed his hand to lead him on. She didn’t understand that they were having a fight. Spencer shook her off of him as he followed her, but for the rest of the ride to his stop, he couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if he had just let her hold his hand for those few moments.

[marithlizard]

Ace Attorney: Rise From the Ashes (part 1)

A couple of people expressed interest in a writeup as I play through the game, so I thought I’d give quasi-liveblogging a try.   It might have come out to be too detailed - let me know if the result is amusing enough to go through the next part.  

(I knew this already, but wow liveblogging is a lot of work.   And it must take twice as much effort to do this for a show and to include screencaps.)

(I’ve tried three times now to put proper line breaks/spacing in, and they’re just not displaying, at least on desktop. I’m sorry.)

A brief,  stylized opening designed not to give away much, except that a creepy-looking doll is involved.

 Two months?  Phoenix, you haven't taken a single client since Maya left?    a) are you depressed, and b) how are you paying rent on the office?

Ookay, you're not going to tell us why you've been moping around. I don't think it's that you have a crush on Maya.  Are you just not able to function without a partner?   That's not great for your ability to survive, but I can sympathize.  

 New perky assistant, right on cue.  (A partner who isn't a young girl would be a nice change now and then. (But not Larry.  Anyone but Larry. In fact, I take it back, this girl with the pink sunglasses will do just fine.))

Oof,  Phoenix still not being able to say out loud that Mia's dead.

In the first two minutes pink-glasses girl has asserted that he's his female boss, the coffee boy, and 'better than nothing'.   Aha!  The problem with all the clients he turned down was that they didn't insult him enough.

Kid, you can't be more than sixteen, and you have silly face buttons  on your lab coat.  You are about as much a scientific investigator as Photography Girl last episode was a journalist.   ...But apparently you have a future job lined up in forensics, so you're more organized than she was.  And this world certainly could use more competent crime scene analysis.  

"I promised her I'd bring Mia Fey".  Huh.  Is Mia's murder not well-known to the public,  then, even though the Edgeworth case apparently got famous enough to earn Phoenix a bit of a reputation?

A murder charge with an eyewitness, and an assistant who "kind of hates" her sister the defendant.  Sounds hopeless, let's do it! Off to the Detention Center. 

...Did we just overhear the defendant threatening their terrified guard with a pay freeze?  Is she their boss? And if she's someone that high up, why doesn't she already have a better defense attorney?

I like Lana Skye's character design. She looks as though she should be starring in a Takurazuka revue show, swearing eternal star-crossed love to a princess.  

She insists she did it.  By genre convention we know that can't be the case; my first assumption is that she's being forced to cover for someone, blackmailed  or coerced  by someone higher up in the system.   But it would certainly be interesting if it  turned out she was covering for Ema.  

Must....resist...plotbunnies...

Oookay.  A prosecutor should certainly know ways to commit murder without getting caught, and this sounds like the opposite of those ways.    WHY does she claim she did this?  You're not even going to ask her, are you?  *headdesk*

Ema:  "Please ignore that totally gay statement by my sister,  because I certainly plan to!"

Lana: "No don't help me, go away go away go away go away go awa-oh fine."

Hmmm.  From Ema's description of the behavior change,  Lana has been being blackmailed or coerced for a long time now.

Time to go investigate the underground parking garage.

Attorneys aren't supposed to examine crime scenes, and defense attorneys aren't entitled to a copy of the police investigation reports.  What does a "normal" defense attorney in this world do for their clients then?  Always assume a loss and try to negotiate a plea bargain?  I wonder if we'll ever get to see one in action.

It's...a cop with a cowboy fetish?  Do police not have dress codes here?  Maybe they're waived above a certain level,  and some people take pride in cultivating a unique style to show off that they can.  It would explain Edgeworth.  

You are dramatically pretending to shave in front of us.  Also you just called Ema a baby cow.  Although you know her and seem sympathetic - I guess Lana brought her little sister to the office sometimes?  Not sure what I think of you, Jake Marshall.

I am revising my stance. Being Phoenix's partner on a case requires precise and narrow qualifications.  Specifically, just enough sense to stop him from doing something breathtakingly stupid, but not enough sense to take the badge firmly away from him and do the job themselves.   Ema fits the bill perfectly.

Ooh, new mechanic!  And an ID card number for a Bruce Goodman who dresses like a white-hat agent in Spy vs Spy. (I was trained on games that would require you to write that number down and remember it later, but AA will certainly be more forgiving.)  

Using the new mechanic on Phoenix's attorney badge,  I deduce that at some point this game it will be stolen.  

It doesn't explain Lana's supposed actions, but that red sports car does kind of scream "My owner is a jerk, stuff a body in my trunk."   Instead of a chalk outline, they seem to have outlined the hanging body with string?  Is that actually a technique, and how do they get the rope to stay put in precise outline?

And the cowboy gives them a hint.  So he's  on their side but constrained by rules?

Lady put the boobs away.  Why are you selling sushi in a negligee under a fur coat, at a crime scene?  And why would anyone trust food from someone whose nickname is "the Cough-Up Queen"?

Angel Starr, dominatrix lunch lady.   It says something that this is not the weirdest witness in an AA game so far.

She hates prosecutors, and therefore especially Lana. Not a trustworthy witness. But it's probably no fun to cater for a group of (relatively) wealthy and powerful people you despise.   Especially if they're smugly giving awards to each other as they eat lunches.  (Eeeevil lunches.  She probably coughs on them.)

"The rhythmic beat of Lana Skye's knife"...  very poetic, but didn't Lana say the victim was stabbed only once?

We can't get back to the car, phooey, so up to the prosecutor's office we go.

Pink...everywhere...no question whose office this is, even if one of his outfits wasn't framed on the wall.  (why do you frame an outfit?)     I see a very ugly trophy on the sofa, so he's the one who won the award.

Ema:  "this is the kind of room that just screams 'I can do the job'. Actually it screams 'I don't need to pretend to be heterosexual', but the two aren't unconnected.    

Is it just me or is that trophy broken off at the top?

Edgeworth did you just roll with being insulted and make a joke about it?   I'm so proud of you, you've clearly relaxed since your murder trial!

BWAHAHA of course it was Edgeworth's car.

Wendy the security guard from the Steel Samurai case is sending Edgeworth expensive presents??   a) that's both funny and a little sad,  b) how can she afford it,  and c)  he keeps and displays them which is very courteous.

WAIT did you - did this game just heavily suggest Gumshoe hangs out in the office a lot?  Twice, once when you look at the shelves and again when you look at the desk?  I don't ship it, but this is the point where I start to see why people do.

Awwww he's embarrassed about the trophy, that's cute.    So he's the one who "devours the evillest lunches of all",  hmm?   I wouldn't have thought the Cough-Up Queen's weird not-even-fresh lunches would appeal to Edgeworth's refined tastes.

Ema actually has a bit of a crush, from the way she's rhapsodizing about Edgeworth sleeping on the sofa.  d'awww.   And I definitely want to know the story behind the outfit.  Made by his mom and too precious to wear?

Edgeworth, no one thinks you did it.   Sheesh.  He certainly doesn't sound happy about having to prosecute Lana,  even though he believes she's guilty.  His car, his knife... it almost seems like this is a plot aimed at him, or perhaps a plot against Lana with a healthy dose of fuck-you-too-Edgeworth to it.

Huh.  Maybe it *is* aimed at him. I've been assuming all this time from his behavior on the stand that Edgeworth has indeed been messing with evidence to convict obviously innocent people, and also assuming that it's common practice in this corrupt justice system. (Much as it is in Japan and in the US).  But the way he's talking about rumors right now, it sounds more like he's being slandered.  And he thinks the award he was given was out of mockery.  Ouch.

So yes, the trophy is broken.   (In RWBY, you assume everything is a gun;  in AA, you assume everything is a murder weapon.  It probably broke when it was used to hit someone over the head.)

Evidence transferal day, huh?  Was the murder timed to draw attention away from a case being closed?    And Edgeworth parked his car only three minutes before Goodman was stabbed  and thrown into its trunk?    No way.  He was there for the murder, or more likely that's not when the murder happened.   (Is he being coerced like Lana?  I don't think so, but it's possible.)

Enter an idiot mailman with a bandaged hand.  And exit, with sniveling. What was that about?

And a hint to go investigate at the police station.  Is Edgeworth being friendly, attempting to signal something, or merely aware that the most efficient way to get rid of Phoenix is to give him a clue to chase?

The police department entrance, with some sort of plywood jester figure in front of it.  We're offhandedly informed that it took 30 minutes to get there from Edgeworth's office, which means that will be important later.

This is the creepy doll from the intro! It's clearly meant to be a mascot. Was it made by the sniveling mailman?  There's  a certain resemblance...

No, I should've guessed that Gumshoe made it.   I mean ... mechanically it's pretty clever for someone who's not a craftsman or engineer?  Moving articulated limbs and all.  It's just the aesthetics and design he shouldn't have been allowed anywhere  near.

Yes, yes it is odd that only the top-ranked people are being allowed to work on the case. Are they all in on it?    A patrolman in charge of the crime scene instead of a detective - that suggests Marshall is part of the conspiracy.  I'm thinking the dominatrix lunch lady is too.

Gumshoe is so happy about the prosecutor's award - Edgeworth probably didn't have the heart to say that for him it's a mockery.  Daww.  (Also there's something endearingly cheerful about  his hopping-caterpillar eyebrows.)   He's also being much more helpful than his superiors would want, probably just because he thinks of Phoenix as an ally in general now.  

Back to the parking lot, with a letter of introduction in hand this time.

I genuinely can't tell if the lunch lady is a sex worker, if she actually has multiple boyfriends, or if that's code for her professional contacts in whatever she's really doing here.   (And that's an interesting cultural bit, isn't it - any of those options seem possible, and I'm not expecting any of the characters to question her competence or morality because of it, not even in court.   If this was a US-made game my expectations would be...different.)

"Good men always die young"...I see what you did there, Marshall.    

Autopsy report confirms one stab wound.  Lana and the victim worked together on "a case a few years back", ding ding ding.   Someone didn't want the evidence for that case transferred. Or looked at. 

 Marshall used to be a detective but got demoted?  And he's lying about why he was assigned to the crime scene, and telling us Gumshoe is off the case because he's friends with Edgeworth.  The police chief, whoever he is, is now at the top of my suspect list.

 Happily, the game will let me do dumbass things like show off Goodman's ID card without consequences.  Marshall seems very uninterested in it and why it was found so far from the spot of the murder, which I take to mean "we have our official narrative, don't go messing it up with facts or evidence." 

Finally we can examine the car!  First up, Lana's cellphone.  The whole business about hitting redial and somehow not knowing that Ema's phone rang was weird.  Phoenix’s lie couldn't possibly have fooled Marshall, who is bizarrely claiming there's no way to know who the last call was made to.  It's an odd thing to conceal, even given the “no facts please we have our narrative” stance.  Maybe he's trying to protect Ema somehow?) 

 Marshall said the rumors about Edgeworth came from Lana.  And we have a note found  in the trunk:  6-7S 12/2, on a piece of Goodman's stationery.  

 Er, yeah, Ema, why didn't you mention your sister called you 3 minutes after the claimed murder time?  If Lana hung up right away that's hardly incriminating for either of you.

 End of Day One!  We are, as usual, completely unprepared for tomorrow morning's trial.

[praphit]

SM3: Nice Jerks are the Worst

I don't know about y'all, but I had big plans for 2020. Now, maybe those big plans will still happen, Idk. But, this was supposed to be our year! - that's what people say, right?? This was the year that you were going to go on that vacation. You were going to drop that dead beat spouse, leave that spouse with the kids, and run off to Mexico, right??!. You were going to start that business. Gain that weight. Come out of the closet. Finally tat that left butt cheek. You were going to stop doing hardcore drugs. Maybe this was going to be your year to start doing hardcore drugs. I'm not here to judge, only to ramble. 

But, 2020 quickly turned to shit. Now, we're all looking for someone to blame. Someone has to pay for our horrible haircuts or hairiness, our newfound hatred for our families, and for plenty of much more serious stuff.

I, personally, like to turn to movies for lessons about life. And I think I have the perfect movie to help us figure out who to blame - you guessed it "Spider-Man 3"

This first attempt at a motion picture SM was doing so well. We loved Spidey (though some didn't care for Tobey Maguire, playing him). 

Spidey and Mary Jane (Kirsten Dunst) are adorable. Then, this thing showed up and everything turned to shit (not unlike Covid-19).

Let's look into what went wrong, and who is to blame.

First, let me say that I really liked the action in this movie. There are three villains in this movie: Venom (played by Topher Grace), that thing you see above. 

Green Goblin (played by James Franco), who is... a green goblin. 

And Sandman (played by Tommy Church), who has a body  that is now kinda made of sand - which seems silly if you pick it a part... though so does a man with the powers of a spider.

There was lots of action, and it was all shot well. There is one action scene where there is NO ONE around... I mean NO ONE. It's frickin NY. Peter Parker (not dressed as Spider-Man) and Green Goblin are causing all kinds of damage and making a lot of noise, and not ONE new yorker has anything to say about it? Unless you're a healthcare worker, I bet new yorkers are still cursing at each other from their homes. This was glaring, but Imma let it slide, cuz the action was good.

That's about all of the good I have to report:)

Quick plot recap:

1) MJ and Petey are on the rocks 2) James Franco is an asshole, trying to destroy Peter for killing his father (which he didn't) 3) Venom is trying to kill Spidey (what else is new??) 4) Venom, at one point, infects Peter Parker, to become "Black Spidey" - this, of course, is also when the people of the city started to hate him.

5) Oh, and Peter, mm! He's the worst. I've got something for him later.

There are two major reasons why people talk shit about this movie.

1st - Casting/Characters

Nobody is likeable in this movie

From the very first scene, MJ is singing to us, annnnd it's sooooo boring. I don't think it was supposed to be. Someone in the audience should have been booing. We can’t just allow entertainers to get comfortable, thinking that they can do whatever the hell that they want! - that’s how you end up with stuff like this 

 It was like, if Snow White were to perform a number for a large crowd.

Just Snow White - I ain't talking about no cute animals around or the suspense of menacing dwarves that might turn on Snow White at any moment. Not even a prince who might be gay (that’s the word on the streets). Just a long movie filled with songs from Snow White; that's what we're talking about. First, MJ bores me, then she's pathetically whining throughout the whole movie.

Sandman is cool (despite his love for striped shirts), but we don't really get to know him. 

Side note: He gets his powers by accidentally getting trapped in a science experiment. The scientists, btw, ( And Lord knows what they were up to) knew that something could have been trapped in there, assumed it was a bird, and kept on going. See, this is why certain people don't trust y'all.

James Franco is James Franco (an asshole). Not worth a pic.

Venom doesn't really have a personality (and his host... well, he ain't no Tom Hardy)

PLUS, Peter Parker is a dick (again, we'll get to that later).

The most likeable person in this film is JJ Jameson, and we're not really supposed to like him.

A person with that look shouldn’t be your most likeable character.

Look at this stage - 

Who is likeable up here? Fauci, maybe? But, betting by the amount of times that he puts his hands to his face, 

- there are things he's not allowing himself to say, so though perhaps likeable, if we can fully trust him. And as far as Trump...  Even Trump supporters can't HONESTLY say that they LIKE the man (I mean, if he weren't the prez, would you honestly want him around? - your family?). They certainly can't say that they trust him - though I guess the amount of people looking into ingesting cleaning products after Trump mentioned something along those lines, would beg to differ.

This is the group we're looking to for direction?!

And this is also a problem in the movie. I have to be able to like SOMEBODY! 

I need to be able to trust someone to stop the cheesy-written shit storm that is this movie.

"Cheesy Shit Storm" - how bout that for a visual? :)

2nd - dance numbers!

I actually didn't mind the first one, when Peter is dancing through the streets.

Ha! Wow, he is going for it. Come get it while it’ s hot, ladies!

It's odd, but it's supposed to be. It's supposed to be funny, and it kinda is. You ever dance a lil bit while you're out at a store? I know I do; especially now that we're wearing pandemic masks - no one knows who I am. NBD to dance a bit in public, but if you keep going passed a certain point, it just becomes annoying.

That's why the second dance number is bad. Plus, it doesn't make any sense.

At this point MJ and Peter have broken up. She's singing in a bar, and Peter interrupts her song with a dance number (while using his new girlfriend to poke at MJ). Now, While MJ’s songs of boredom deserve interruption, she didn’t deserve that.

Venom is like a drug. Venom brings out the worst in a person. You're telling me that Peter Parker, with all of the rage built up from Uncle Ben and villains and his life not being all that great; the best or I should say "the worst" that he can do is Jazz hands? With all of his superpowers, he should be out there slaughtering everyone in sight. I mean, he did slap the shit out of MJ though (by "accident"). That's when he snapped out of the evil dance number. I don't know what kind of message that sends. 

"MJ, it wasn't until I slapped the holy hell out of you that I realized the error of my ways, so... thank you? I'm just going to go on about my day now."

I see this misguided scene as a metaphor. Peter Parker is dancing around his issues:

His relationship with MJ has been bad. He's on that stuff (Venom). And honestly, MJ knows that he's Spider-Man. Why couldn't he have just explained to her what was happening? 

"Sorry, baby. I got possessed by an alien again, you know how it is."

And he was dealing with the fact that the person who killed his uncle is on the loose. Another side note: MJ, even though they had just broken up, still cares for Peter while he's dealing with the news about Uncle Ben's killer. That's a damned good friend right there! - especially the way Peter had been acting towards her.

We've got to deal with stuff, people! We can't just get bad haircuts, wear weird clothes, and do drugs! Eventually, that will lead us to slapping the shit out of someone that we love. There are a lot of realities that we're prob not facing at the moment (and some we prob have no intentions of ever facing). A lot of things that we could have done to prevent certain things from escalating, but... we were busy doing our typical dance.

Peter was warned about Venom and did nothing about it. He told himself, "I got this", and clearly he didn't. Honestly, the whole city was screwing up by not helping Spider-Man at all. At the end, when the big fight is happening, and MJ is near death, everybody is just watching all of this go down. Where were the cops?! The S.W.A.T?! Other superheroes? New Yorkers themselves! - they're bold! But, to be fair, Venom came from outer space, so... it was a bit unprecedented; people were prob scared. I'll cut them and Spidey some slack.

You know who I won't cut any slack - Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker!

Peter Parker is a jerk. I'm thinking that Tobey's Peter Parker has always been a jerk; a nice jerk, but a jerk. Have you ever met a nice jerk? They do all of the things that a regualr jerk does, but they'll rationalize their behavior, and look puzzled when you react to their awfulness. I didn't notice this in the 1st movie, cuz I was just happy to get Spider-Man. I didn't notice in the 2nd movie, cuz those kids were just too darn cute. But, his niceness was so annoying in this movie. And he treated MJ horribly : He never listens to her, he’s always late, he only talks about himself, he’s too damned nice, he never knows when they’re in a fight, he kisses other women right in front of her and then is like “What did I do?”

I kept wanting her to punch Peter out; he would have deserved it.

The foundation of the character of the 1st Spider-Man was a problem from the start! If the foundation is shaky, then - whew! I'm glad that we finally fixed it:)

Plus, he never said he was sorry. He did one of those "Well, I'm not perfect." things. She ain't asking for perfection, just quit being a jerk!

A better movie would have been if MJ had been infected by Venom. For starters, she would have given a better performance, in the beginning. Something more like this - 

She would have banged Peter's friends. She would have destroyed her critics. And most importantly, she wouldn't have taken any shit from Peter. That could have been the main plot. Instead of a convultued blend of three villains around the nice jerkiness of Peter, it would have been Spider-Man vs MJ - beatening each other up all throughout the city; though I guess that would be considered domestic violence. But, why dance around real issues out there! 

It could have been a family-friendly movie about drug abuse (Venom) and domestic violence... and possibly some make-up sex in the middle of the city. But, after that, one of them, if not both, are going to jail! We gotta deal with the problems, people!

Grade: an entertaining D+ 

I did enjoy it. It wasn't as bad as I remember it, and I'd prob watch it again. But, I can't deny that on a technical level, it's crap.

"Who’s to blame?" isn't really the question. It's more "Who deserves what percentage of the blame?" There's a lot of blame to go around here... even to us who enabled Peter's jerkiness in the first two movies.

I like the direction that we're going in now. 

A better Spidey A better MJ Better villains

And even a better Aunt May 

- looking all good with Tony Stark.

- imagine Tony aggressively flirting with the older one

[jazillia007]

Thoughts on 2x13 - Part 1

So first of all, I have to say I'm very glad I didn't watch the episode live with the emotions coming in left and right and all the drama happening in the fandom right after the episode.

I watched the episode knowing what's coming, so that was kinda cheating on my part but it definitely helped to focus on everything else happening in the episode.

Overall I can say it was a terribly written episode – it felt like a episode quickly written in case Good Girls didn't get a renewal (season 2 had obviously finished filming when it got its renewal, so they definitely didn't think about whether it would feel out of character or moving too fast.)

Because – and I don't care if I get hate for this – I could see Brio ending up in a situation like they ended up in this episode. But let's talk about the other things first.

Annie and Noah (because it's quick):

I never really cared about them. I don't care about Noah having a kid – trying to make it all okay he did lie to Annie and raped her by deception. So you guys talked it out and now it's okay? No, thanks. And do I think he will leave? Well only season 3 will tell. Also I was low-key grossed out by Annie sitting on the toilet doing her business while talking to Noah. They still know eachother for 5 minutes and I just think it's gross. (I know there are couples who do this kind of stuff but personally my toilet business is my toilet business. lol)

Boomer – Marion – Redemption – WTF?:

First of all: why did we need Boomer to be alive again? After watching episode 12 I was like „okay maybe there is a reason why the writers messed with us“ but now I just think it was really for the shocker and mostly cringeworthy scenes.

The dining room scene was terrible. Who wrote it? Jenna, was that you?

Boomer being like „I'm gonna change my face and nobody will recognize me“. Like what? This felt straight out of a Korean drama (if anyone is watching Korean drama, you all know what I mean). It was way too long, way too over the top and not funny. And then Boomer is coming at the 3 women with Jeff? How does he know about Jeff? Did I miss anything? Did I miss Mary Pat telling him about her husband? People in the fandom, help me out! Did I zoom out while this conversation happened?

But also: I don't get Beth's reasoning here. Ruby is right! Get rid off the rest of Jeff and call the cops on Boomer! Heck, why didn't they tell Boomer about how he should shut up about Jeff when he is dirty himself. All the business in Fine & Frugals aside he is also a rapist.

And then, you have Marion driving him to the cops?

Okay, I know a lot of people don't like it that they somewhat gave these two a half-ass written redemption arc. Like Marion is a racist granny and Boomer is... well he is Boomer. Basically he is trash, okay?

But putting aside my personal aversion to these two, I actually liked that Marion did what she did. In the end she knew Boomer was stealing from her and all that. And the way he ordered her around in the beginning of the episode, I was like „Marion, grow a backbone!“. So in that regard, I liked it.

BUT Boomer got away too easily. Neither Annie nor Mary Pat got their chance to tell him off. Will he go to prison? Or get away just like that? I believe unfortunately he will.

Like I said it's half-ass written and not satisfying at all. Just like the episode overall.

Beth's „reasoning“:

I know Beth is a woman with flaws. To a point I feel second-hand embarassement watching her making the same mistakes over and over again. She does and did many decisions which made me facepalm throughout each episode. But some decisions were reasonable or at least understandable for someone without any experience and a certain naivety. We can't expect Beth to be this professional criminal, just like Rio is.

As some pointed out she does make rash decisions when she feels cornered but in this episode I couldn't make sense out of her decisions at all.

How exactly would it help her to pay Boomer money for the crazy facial surgery and for everything else? I'm Ruby in this scene who can't make sense of Beth. Didn't she learn a thing?

If you don't take care of your rotten egg it will spread like a disease – if there is one lesson Beth should remember it's this one – and Boomer is certainly someone who would always come back no matter what, to blackmail and for more cash.

Same with her turning herself in. It showed she was always the caregiver in this group of 3 women and I understand she believes that turning herself in would stop Turner going after the Hills and Annie.

BUT again this falls flat because why would you turn yourself in for the murder of Leslie Petersen aka Boomer when he is alive and well? It would've made sense IF Beth, Ruby and Annie didn't know Boomer was still alive and they genuinely thought the body was his. But that's not the case.

I can't believe they didn't come up with something else. Any fan theory/idea was better than what the writers gave us in this episode.

It's such lazy writing.

Beth the „King“?:

This makes no sense to me at all, not just throughout the whole last bit of the episode but the show so far.

I know some in the fandom wouldn't mind Beth doing her own business without Rio. And all I can ask is: but HOW!?

It's not like I wouldn't agree but if anything that would be a plot I could see happening at the end of season 3 if well-written. In the end we want Beth and Rio to be equals and that can't be achieved – even with a 50/50 deal. Why? Because even with the 50/50 deal, Beth is still 100% not involved in anything going on behind the scenes. For example how Rio perfected his counterfeit money business or his „drug“ business.

I'm also pretty sure Rio didn't tell Beth his recipe how to make the fake cash as legit as possible. In the end he can't trust her enough with these details.

Yes, she can google stuff but I had to laugh quiet a lot at Beth being so proud for producing fake cash with Dean's printer. Okay...

(Also on a sidenote: is it healthy to bake money in chemicals in the same oven you would usually cook your meals in?)

And she is bringing in a random divorced mom who is a designer? Since when is she friends with someone else aside from Ruby and Annie?

I know everyone got to start somewhere but if the season finale proved one thing for sure: it's Beth not being ready for what is ahead of her. She is high on power but to me she came out as weak after shooting Rio. This isn't how I wanted to see Beth to get her own business – again makes no sense at all how she can do it and make as much cash as Rio. He worked for YEARS in this crime world – and certainly she is no King to me.

But I think she will realize that pretty quickly in season 3 that everything isn't that easy. And I can't wait for her to come in touch with other – far less pleasant than Rio – gangsters in town. Plus with her way of not dealing with problems it's likely not going to end well for her.

Dean – Redemption? - WTF 2.0:

The worst thing for me in this episode apart from the shooting scene was probably how they portrayed the relationship between Beth and Dean.

It's Boomer redemption all over again. Lazy writing 101.

But fair enough I didn't see it as Beth and Dean coming back together. I just think in this episode full of self-inflicted turmoil and stress she sought comfort in the person she had been with for 20 years. That's all.

Which doesn't excuse that Dean basically got away with the following things:

he is a cheater. Like he cheated multiple times on Beth.

and he used the lie about sex addiction as a reason why he cheated on her because she wouldn't let him touch while she suffered from post-partum depression.

Dean is also a lying liar because he lied about having CANCER in season 1 because he wanted to keep his property aka his wife.

he undermined Beth's abilities as a businesswoman – let's put aside the crime stuff, she is a LOT better at Dean's job which he HATES.

he also reduces Beth to being a housewife and mother and talks down to her – I've not forgotten his sandwich cookie cutter comment.

he is also unable to get another job because we know how he is, he is unable not to con his own customers and possible future employers can see that from a mile away – but Beth is like „well then it wasn't meant to be?“ like what? Are you serious?

And all seems forgotten now and we get to see Beth and Dean and how they probably were as a not really happy but at least functional couple.

It's almost as if the writers try to gloss over Dean's nonsense because if you look at what Beth did and does it's far worse than what Dean did.

And that's terrible! It's not okay. Because Beth had to do what she did because of Dean! Dean is the reason for all the crap going down in Beth's life. If anything she should blame Dean, not Rio and maybe not even herself...

I can't watch Good Girls as a tv show for female empowerment when Beth doesn't get to call Dean out on his bullshit. And he has the audicity to ask „what went wrong with us?“??

You went wrong, Mister! And Beth didn't get to say it because her look says it all but she just wants to avoid any further conflict.

And that's not okay. It's like the writers gave Beth a muzzle in these scenes and wouldn't let her say what she obviously thinks.

And I’m not even sad about Beth and Dean getting along as parents. Like that's a good decision. Because in the end they have 4 kids and they should be functional as parents.

I'm simply baffled how poorly written Beth's and Dean's conflict is or the lack of addressing it. And that the writers apparently want to have these two in the same house for another season.

I simply have no words anymore.

[the-citrus-scale]

Chaotic Neutrals: The Walking Dead Edition

Fandom always seems to flock to morally gray characters, or as we call them here at The Citrus Scale, chaotic neutrals. The Walking Dead, in particular, is a fandom made up pretty much only of chaotic neutrals, but some are a little more chaotic than others. In this edition of our feature, we’ll talk about my personal favorite chaotic neutral, Negan, and another character very similar to him that many might not view as a chaotic neutral, Rick Grimes. Negan and Rick both do many, many questionable things throughout the series that fans attempt to justify for the sake of not vilifying them. This is why they are both great, albeit infuriating, characters.

Analyzing any character from The Walking Dead is a little tricky. While most of them originally lived in a world that functioned like ours, they don’t live in that world anymore. Their rules are dramatically different. With Negan and Rick, there’s also another layer to worry about, and that’s the fact that they’re foils. That means that their backgrounds and character arcs mirror each other, but are just varied enough to highlight the differences between them. You also have the wrinkle of comics vs. television show. At this point, it’s really best to consider each version as separate from the other. There are too many differences in character development and plot that make it disingenuous to try to smash everything together and analyze it that way. Therefore, we’ll be talking about the television show versions of these characters today.

Ultimately, in the question of who’s better, it’s really a wash and Negan and Rick end up about the same. We know, we know. It doesn’t seem possible, right? Well, trust us, it is. Negan isn’t as bad as everybody thinks he is, and Rick isn’t as great as everybody thinks he is.

That’s largely because the two men are very similar. Both Negan and Rick had positions of authority in their original roles in the world. Negan was a teacher and Rick was a cop, and these professions show in the way they treat people. Negan views others during the apocalypse as in need of a protector and organizer, someone who will tell them exactly what they need to do to stay safe and thrive. However, much like a teacher in a classroom, Negan isn’t afraid to make his own rules. Rick sees himself as policing a societal structure that already exists, the same structure that the original world operated on. He is also very focused on actions that we would call illegal, despite the lack of that structure in the new world, whereas Negan is concerned with all actions and how they affect the whole. Rick is mostly concerned about those closest to him, particularly his family, and he has shown repeatedly that he will prioritize their safety over everything else. Negan, on the other hand, since he has no family left to care for, leans more toward the welfare of everyone, not just one person. Regardless of their methods, the big similarity between these two is that they are both working towards the same goal. They both want to reestablish order in a world that no longer has any. Their methods may be different, but they want the same result.

What fans generally take issue with, though, is that methodology, and that’s because, quite frankly, both Negan and Rick’s motivations do not excuse any and all actions. Justifying the protection of a few key people is not enough to warrant jeopardizing a larger group, but the protection of the larger group doesn’t excuse any and all actions either. It also doesn’t necessarily mean that Negan’s actions aren’t justified just because he has no family to protect. Both men, at various points, say that what they’re doing is for the greater good, but that’s not a blanket excuse that can be used to bury all sins. It’s also very easy for fans to argue that an action was justified because they know the result, but when you’re forced to consider all the ways that situation could have turned out, the justification becomes murkier. It’s also pertinent to point out that Rick’s supposed commitment to democracy, which conveniently vanishes when he doesn’t get what he wants, by the way, also does not make anything he does more excusable simply because we think we’d like his system better.

But I’m sure you want some specific examples, don’t you? Sure you do. Let’s break these two bad boys, so to speak, down.

Negan’s a little easier to tackle, so let’s take him first. Negan runs The Sanctuary in The Walking Dead. It is arguably one of the safest communities we see during the course of the series, especially considering that it’s heavily implied that Negan has been there for a long time. In addition, the people in The Sanctuary are actually equipped to deal with the apocalypse, unlike, for example, Woodbury, where most of the inhabitants lived in ignorant bliss and were unprepared for what happened when their walls came down. Rick tried to establish a permanent community like that from day one, but he never really managed. Even Carl is impressed by what Negan has built during his visit. This alone lets us see some of the good in him. However, Negan’s primary means of control are extreme psychological warfare and violence, which leaves a lot of fans with bad tastes in their mouths.

Certainly violence is justified in the new world of The Walking Dead. Pretty much every character has to use it at some point, no matter how hard they try not to. And don’t get us wrong, a lot of the people who have violence directed towards them on the show deserve it. But how much is too much? Clearly a line can be drawn. While Negan doesn’t resort to violence unless it’s the absolute last thing he can do, the fact that he starts off his interactions with other communities with threats still doesn’t sit well. Although Rick’s diplomatic approach doesn’t always have the best outcome either (Terminus, anyone?), it seems like there should be some sort of happy medium. This could lead to some less unsavory methods of running The Sanctuary for Negan as well. Maybe a little more freedom within his system would be good for everyone.

Not that Rick is running things much better, really. Let’s put his multiple failures aside for the moment and focus on a few key instances when he goes, well, a little bit off the rails. The first is when his group is staying at the prison. Rick, Michonne, and Carl come upon a lone hitchhiker who runs after their car asking for help. They drive past him not once, but twice. Later, they find his abandoned bag by the side of the road and simply take it without another thought. And okay, we get it. Other people are potentially very dangerous in this new world. But this was one guy. And they were living in a prison. A prison. With cells. That they could close and lock. They kept Merle Dixon, a known threat who was working for their enemy, in one of those cells, and they couldn’t give this random guy a chance? Just letting him die seems unnecessarily cruel. At The Sanctuary, he would have at least been given a chance, and his fate would have been up to him.

Then there’s Alexandria. When Rick and the others arrive at Alexandria, it seems like a dream, but Rick and his group quickly decide that Alexandria is being mismanaged. Despite his supposed commitment to democracy and making the world a better place, Rick simply says that if Alexandria won’t do things the way they like, they’ll just take it over, which is exactly what they do. Now, we’re not saying that Alexandria wasn’t being mismanaged, but this seems like a pretty rapid escalation, and if it was being done to Rick, he certainly wouldn’t have liked it. It was a power move, and it worked out in the end, but that still doesn’t mean that it was justified.

Which brings us to Oceanside. Yes, Simon definitely overstepped when he culled the population of Oceanside. No doubt about it. But it wasn’t Negan’s order, and he didn’t condone it, so let’s put that aside for the moment. What we do know is that Rick marches into Oceanside and demands that they comply with his demands. He wants to take away all of the defenses of a terrified group just because he wants to fight after he let Negan take away all of his defenses, and he somehow thinks this is justified because he’s fighting their former oppressor, and is therefore the ultimate hero crusading for the greater good. Um, no, Rick. Just no. When Oceanside disagreed and didn’t want to do it his way, he made them get on their knees just like Negan made him get on his and he took what he wanted. Not the greatest move, dude. For all his talk about doing the right thing, Rick is definitely willing to step into the gray when it gets him what he wants. That is not being a good leader. We’re not saying that means he doesn’t ever do anything good, but he’s not the morally upright character everyone imagines him to be.

But Rick often receives the gift of the morally upright image because of other traits that make Negan seem a little less appealing from that same perspective. Specifically, we’re talking about his wives. Negan has multiple wives, and since we don’t see a lot of them in the series, the implication we’re left with is that these women trade sex for survival. While it’s fairly obvious why this arrangement gives viewers pause, it’s also hard to really judge Negan on it when we don’t actually know how it operates. Despite the implication that the trade is sex for survival, there is never any confirmation of that. None of the wives mention that sex is part of the deal, and the only sexual contact we see between Negan and any of his wives is one kiss that was clearly more about psychology than desire. I have a personal theory about this one, in fact. I think that the wives are not about sex at all. I think they’re Negan’s loophole to help those who might not be able to support themselves within his system because they don’t have skills that are particularly useful in the apocalypse. Frankie, for example, was a masseuse. Well, that’s not really something people are going to be looking for in this new world. But Negan likes massages, so he lets Frankie trade them for survival. Okay, okay. It’s a headcanon. But it could make sense, right?

And we can’t forget where these characters are now in this discussion. Negan is obviously not devoid of morals. He cares about people, even if it’s in an abstract way, and his particularly vicious stance against rape is something any woman can honestly appreciate. And no, these things don’t excuse his character flaws and actions. But in the end, Rick doesn’t learn as much as Negan. His victory and subsequent torment of Negan simply teach him that his unilateral decision-making was right in the end. Yes, he sacrifices himself for the people he loves, and that is admirable, but Rick hasn’t changed that significantly since the beginning of the series. Negan, on the other hand, has had time for self-reflection and has come to realize his mistakes. He has already proven that he’s capable of redemption, and hopefully we’ll see some more from him before either his character arc or the television series is over.

No matter what, the moral of the story is that while both characters are flawed, you are allowed to like them, and no one is allowed to demand that you explain why or make a case for why a character is good enough to be liked. You do you, and they can do them, and no one has to get in anybody else’s way.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 6

AO3 link here

                                       ____________________________

"Jesus Christ, Drea."

It's not a cell, but the drab office means many of the same things. Steve stays in the doorway watching his daughter grin over at him.

"I thought I had finished with this stuff once Rosie was out of high school," he says, glancing around at the corkboard with its faded lists of policies and rules, a Peanuts comic strip tacked in the corner. "You’re a member of the bar, and you're almost thirty."

"Civil disobedience knows no age limits," Drea reminds him breezily. She stands and he can see in the light of the desk lamp that she is wearing black sweatpants and a plain, matching sweatshirt: burglar casual. (She’s certainly coordinated better than he has. He caught a glimpse in the window on the way in, and bedhead and yesterday’s gardening sweatshirt grabbed from the top of the laundry is not his best look.)

Steve glares at her. "I don't think this exactly counts as civil disobedience."

"Beg to differ, Steve-o." Tony sits up from where he's been dozing on the office couch at the back. "We were perfectly polite - dictionary definition of civil - and we were definitely being disobedient."

"Trust me," Steve says, turning his frown on his godson. "The officers have given me a description about exactly how disobedient you all were."

“Not sure how exact they could have been,” Tony says, trading an amused look with Drea. She was always his favorite babysitter. “Seeing as they don’t know everything.”

“Tony.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helping yourself here. You caused trouble on campus, got me up at four in the morning - don’t forget how lucky you are that the phone is on my side of the bed. Your dad’s going to laugh, but let me remind you that your mom never even got a chance to go to college. And Jarvis is turning a hundred and sixty; you’re going to give him a heart attack when he hears about this—”

"And we're definitely sorry for that, sir."

Steve was aware that he was here. The cops had told him, and he's heard enough about Tony's roommate since they arrived at MIT to know that Tony would never attempt a hack without convincing his new best friend to go along with it. But seeing Rhodey curled up against the far arm of Tony’s couch, sleepy-looking and a stranger and young, two whole legs and an ill-considered Air Force ROTC sweatshirt, is bizarre. Steve has known Tony from birth this time around, known him as an infant turned child and now precocious teenager for longer than he'd ever known him as an adult; seeing him is strange only in theory. But Rhodey...

Steve clears his throat. "Luckily for you, things are already closing down before summer term begins so the cops are willing to be lenient and not write up a report on this. Especially because Officer Calloway's daughter just finished class with Professor Carter, and will be getting a very nice recommendation." (Peggy's stint as a visiting lecturer at the Kennedy School last semester had gone well; they've decided to extend their stay in Cambridge through the fall. Which is apparently lucky, with this group menacing their way through Boston.)

"I can't believe you bribed them," Drea says, glee and admonition warring in her voice.

"I'm proud of you," Steve reminds her. "I want to give you every chance to succeed, even when you try to ruin it for yourself with this delayed adolescence bit. Next time maybe don’t take advice from literal adolescents."

Tony says in an injured tone, “Hey, I give great—”

Drea spins to kick him briefly, then brings herself around to face forward again. She stands, stretching, looking sweet and a little young. The chair swivels a bit in her wake. "Thank you, Daddy. And I'll thank Mom when we get home."

"You will," Steve agrees. "So you'll have a few hours to work on that."

"What do you mean?"

"I think some time in here will help develop some real contrition for your actions." Drea's mouth falls open. Tony turns on a glare of his own. "Although, James here seems to be contrite enough already, so I think he deserves to sleep in a bed." Steve opens the door wider and beckons Rhodey forward.

“He’s not wrong,” Rhodey reminds Tony as he weaves around the desk toward the doorway. “You’re the mastermind, remember? And masterminds do the time, not unwilling accomplices.”

“Unwitting,” Tony grumbles to himself, crossing his arms and looking betrayed.

Steve tells the remaining two, "The officers will let the two of you out at shift change tomorrow." He starts to leads Rhodey away.

"You're unbelievable, Dad!" Drea calls down the hall after them. "After all the things Uncle Bucky says you pulled. At least we didn't try to attack a police horse!"

"I tried to sock a cop on a horse," Steve calls back. "And there were extenuating circumstances. It's not nearly the same thing." 

                                        ____________________________

Drea arrives back home just after seven the next morning. Her parents are sitting in side by side wicker chairs on the porch of their rented house on Trowbridge Street, cups of coffee and sections of the newspaper in hand.

"I can't believe you left me there," Drea says as she stomps up the steps. "In a—In a CELL at the MIT police department!"

"It was an office," Steve points out, but his voice is overridden by Drea saying, "Campus police departments are fascist tools full of undertrained staff meant to minimize official reporting and protect a school's reputation, you know."

"Perhaps next time you won't be caught by one, then," Peggy says, trading in the world news for arts and leisure. "Or you can ingratiate yourself to them, work to change them from within rather than fighting against them in such a foolhardy manner."

"The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house, Mother," Drea says, swishing back her hair. She cut it recently into a bob, which she typically keeps sleekly controlled with hair products. Despite the dishevelment from a night spend plotting and then attempting to sleep in a desk chair, the length flatters her face - but it does means that flicking it around doesn’t quite have the effect she intends. She slams through the screen door anyway as she goes inside to change and acquire her own coffee. Steve snorts a laugh very softly into his mug, still practiced from not revealing that his children’s impertinence sometimes delighted him. Peggy raises a waspish eyebrow at him over her paper, too Sunday satisfied to fully glare.

“Well, she didn’t learn to quote Audre Lorde from me,” Steve points out.

“Don’t pretend to be unintelligent, Steven. It’s not at all becoming.” She raises the newspaper again and says from behind it, “And she certainly didn’t learn to get caught from me.” Steve coughs out something that a discerning ear can recognize as “Marseilles.” She kicks him reflexively. The newspaper barely rustles.

He returns to his article too, or seems to. After a minute, though, he says quietly, “It’s good to see her like this. Breaking rules. No boxes. For a while I thought she’d lost that.”

Peggy folds the paper thoughtfully and covers his hand with hers. “At least Tony’s shenanigans are good for something,” is all she says.

The morning is brightening and already warm. The library across the street is closed until the mid-afternoon on Sundays, but there are a few young voices coming from that direction anyway, probably preparing for some event or practice over at Rindge and Latin. Steve takes in the drifting smell of spring flowers on the air and thinks about here and now.

“Rhodey,” he says, nearly to himself. “I still can’t believe it.” They hadn’t talked much on the way out of the station. Steve hopes that he hadn’t seemed too strange.

Peggy understands quickly; if he didn’t know his wife as well as he does, he wouldn’t see the brief flicker as she registers the name, recalls all the information she has on him. “It was strange to see him?”

“It feels like five minutes ago that no one in the world but me knew that there ever would be someone called James Rhodes. Now he’s a college student.” Steve glances up. There’s a wasp’s nest just being built in the porch eaves; he’ll have to remember to spray later. “The future’s coming on fast,” he says, turning the words over in wonder.

“And we shall certainly be there to meet it,” Peggy tells him, and squeezes his hand. She smiles as she finishes the last of her coffee. “But I wouldn’t get so maudlin, my darling. There’s plenty of future left, and I think our children still have a few surprises for us.”

Previous chapters here

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 17 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

Len is hovering by the door again, wondering if he should go in or not.

On one hand: it's Mick.

This is all so characteristic of him, really. Just when Len is losing hope, just when the doctors are starting to give up, Mick decides it’s time to defy expectations yet again and struggle his way back to consciousness in dramatic fashion. And not the momentary, illusory consciousness that Len's become accustomed to, moments where Mick's eyes would flicker open and his mouth would move in empty, meaningless syllables.

Real consciousness.

Mick's back.

He's alive, he's - not intact, no, but he's been acing all of the doctors' cognitive tests and he remembers all the facts and dates and events that he should.

He's grumpy and irritable over the food quality and friendly with the nurses while being a jackass to the surgeons and all in all is just so very Mick Rory that it makes Len want to cry just from sheer relief and having missed him so damn much.

(He may or may not have taken a few hours in a convenient hospital storage closet to do just that, father-imposed inability to shed proper tears aside; the world will never know for sure.)

So obviously Len should go in and talk to him.

On the other hand...this is Mick.

The man Len betrayed for years, being a cop without ever telling him. The man who rescued Len anyway. The man who paid the price for it.

And oh, what a price - two-thirds of his body covered in burns, now twisted into scars despite the best efforts of the medical establishment. Serious deterioration and atrophy of his muscles from being in a coma. Bed sores, a swollen throat from routine intubation, scars on his lungs, urinary tract infections...

His strong body, which he was always so proud of, decaying away around him like a living corpse - and all Len's fault.

Len was always willing to accept that bargain: that he’d take Mick's anger or hatred, whatever, anything, anything at all, as long as Mick woke up as himself. But sitting there with an unconscious man and wishing for that to happen is pretty different from actually having to walk inside the hospital room and face the music.

And so he hovers, wondering, debating, searching for some sort of sign of what he should do -

"Snart. Stop skulking around out there and get in here."

Well. That's certainly clear enough.

Len creeps into the room.

Mick is -

Mick is beautifully, wonderfully alive, and honest to God, everything else is so much less important that Len can't remember why he was so reluctant to come in.

Of course, then he tries to open his mouth and say something, realizes he has no idea what to say because months of rehearsing apologies is apparently rendered totally useless after a month of total panicked despair followed by frenzied overwhelming delight and relief, and he abruptly remembers what was stopping him.

What does he even say? How does he even start?

"Where are you showering?" Mick asks.

...on Len's list of ways this conversation could go, that wasn't really one of them.

"Showering?" Len asks incredulously.

"Showering," Mick confirms. "You like to shower in the mornings, it’s morning now, and your very friendly piece of skirt tells me you haven't left the hospital in days. So you gotta be showering somewhere here."

"There's a shower in the nurse's wing," Len says blankly. "Why - wait, what piece of skirt? Do you mean Danvers?"

"Yeah, her," Mick says. "Skirt. She was wearing one – red skirt, with mesh leggings underneath, and also a cute but very concealing sweater with the puppy holding the ice cream cone. She says you know the one...?"

Len is, in fact, familiar with that outfit; it's Danvers' go-to security blanket outfit, the one she wears when she's stressing over something. Usually over Len being dumb, if he's being honest.

Hmm. He really has been living at the hospital the past few days, hasn't he?

"Yeah," Len says. "Definitely Danvers. When'd you see her, anyway?"

His accent slips deeper whenever he's around Mick, he notices; a little less nasal overall, but affecting more words, adding more shortenings and dropping more words. A silent sign of how instinctively comfortable he is in Mick's presence, no matter how stressed he is.

"You were apparently unconscious in a chair in the hallway at the time," Mick says with shrug he aborts with a wince halfway through. "She wanted to introduce herself, set me up with a new phone and group-chat and some shit like that, have me sign some papers -"

"Papers?" Len asks sharply. He'll - deal with Mick actually having a chance to read Danvers' long-threatened group-chat logs later. As far later as possible. "What papers?"

"Apparently I've been suing the police department for being dickheads while I've been out cold and now that I'm awake she needs me to agree to keep it going," Mick says.

Len barely manages to keep from laughing. Of course Danvers would remember that lawsuit Len had some lawyer file in a fit of agonized grief right after it all happened, even though Len himself has long forgotten all about it. How had he ever managed without a personal assistant before now?

"Didn't really ask much past that," Mick continues. "You know I never miss a chance to stick it to the pigs."

Len flinches.

Right.

Trust Mick to bring up the elephant in the room right away.

Mick hates cops.

Len’s been one for years.

Mick just looks at Len steadily. "You never told me," he says quietly. "Why?"

"It wasn't true when we first met in juvie," Len says miserably, hovering by the familiar chair next to Mick's bed but not actually sitting down. "And when we hooked back up later on, started working together on jobs just once in a while, I was brand new and just absolute shit at it, paranoid as fuck. Barely even spoke to the one or two guys that did know, my handlers with the CCPD and the Feds; didn't feel safe enough. And by the time I pulled my head outta my ass, it'd been years and we were partners and I knew you hated pigs and I didn't want you to hate me and -"

Mick starts laughing.

Not in a scornful or miserable way, the way Len might have feared it would be, but actual real deep laughter of the sort he hasn't heard from Mick in far, far too long.

"What?" Len asks, suspicious. "What'd I say?"

"I thought it was 'cause you didn't trust me," Mick chokes out between belly laughs that are probably hurting him. "I shoulda known it was because you're just an idiot. Same as always."

"Hey!" Len protests automatically.

Not that he takes any offense - he knows Mick calls him an idiot because that's how Mick demonstrates affection, with friendly insults and ribbing and casual death threats.

But he's not an idiot!

At the very least he doesn't think he's done anything that qualifies him to be called an idiot at this exact moment, anyway.

"Fine, then," Mick says, getting better control over himself - probably better for his health and well-being - though he still has a giant shit-eating grin on his face. "Not an idiot. A goober that can't do social situations for shit, that better?"

"Not really."

"S'true though."

"It ain't! I can do social shit! I do social shit just fine!"

"Even when you're not conning someone?"

"Even when I'm not conning someone!"

After all, Len assures himself, Barry totally continued to want to date him even after he'd stopped trying to con him...

Maybe that's not the best example.

"Uh-huh," Mick says, looking amused. There are little wrinkles of laughter by his eyes; Len hadn't noticed those, before. Amazing what months of memorizing a person's slack unconscious face will reveal. "Lemme guess. That'd be this Barry Allen guy Danvers' chats keep mentioning."

"...you've read them."

That emotion he's feeling right now - is it horror, extra horror, or extreme horror?

Mix of all of the above, clearly.

"Oh yeah. I've definitely read them," Mick says gleefully. "But I wanna hear about it from you directly."

"Mick."

"Don't you 'Mick' me. I've got no other entertainment right now, and you know I like romance shit."

"You like pulp sci-fi and ninja romance stuff, not just romance," Len objects. "This story..."

He trails off, considering for a moment.

"Well, it ain't got ninjas," he finally says. "As far as I know, anyway, though there was a weird mention once or twice of something fucked up happening Starling, I dunno. And it might've been a bit romantic, but right now it's mostly just tragic."

"Tell me about it anyway."

"Tell you about what?" Len complains, finally taking a seat next to Mick on his bed. There's a chair, too, but chairs are for losers who don't get to sit on comfy beds with their best friends who, amazingly, appear to be forgiving them for - well, everything. How Mick can do that sort of thing, Len has no idea. "There's nothing to it. I got bored in between investigating the million and one corrupt assholes in the CCPD and find out this one guy who's been acting suspicious apparently disappeared for nine months, supposedly in a coma, but then reappeared with no damage and these amazing abs -"

"No kidding, I've seen the pics."

"Goddamnit, I’m gonna gut Danvers; those are technically evidence and she shouldn't be sharing them. Anyway, turns out he ain't corrupt, he's just a fucking superhero. Who'd have thought, you know?"

"Not really anyone's first guess," Mick agrees.

"And first I think he's okay, you know," Len continues. He's ranting. He's aware that he's ranting. He can't seem to stop himself from ranting. "Because he's kind and friendly and optimistic and he's got this stupid smile that lights up the room, but I'm thinking no way anyone's this perfect, he's gotta be up to something, but I get this idea in my head that it must be that he's investigating the superhero - this is all happening before I figure out he is the superhero, that is - so I start dating him anyway -"

"Dates go well?"

"Amazingly. He legitimately thinks my puns are funny."

"Clearly a match made in some level of punster hell," Mick says.

"Shut up, puns are funny."

"Lowest form of wit."

"Lowest circle of hell's supposed to be cold, so I guess it fits," Len says, rolling his eyes. "Did I tell you yet that he thought for a while that I was a supervillain named Captain Cold? That's my new nickname at the precinct."

"No, but that's hilarious. You always did like your cold puns. Actually, you probably didn't know it, but people – criminals, that is – sometimes called you Ice-heart Snart."

"That's...awful. I'm glad I didn't know about that."

"No kidding. Captain Cold's much better. So he thought all of that about you and dated you anyway?"

"No, he didn't realize I was the Internal Affairs guy at first; I didn't tell him ‘cause I was investigating him. Anyway - wait, where was I?"

"Amazing dates," Mick prompts.

"Well, they were," Len says. "Absolutely amazing. Best I've ever had - just talking and laughing and just being happy hanging out and all that stuff that comes right out of that romance stuff you're always on about - and then, of course, just as I start thinking that I finally got lucky, it all blows up in my face. Turns out he's just as bad as I thought when I first started looking into him, and I should be happy to be proven right except for some reason I'm not, and now I can't stop thinking about how awfully he's gonna do in prison when he finally gets sent there like he deserves. I feel like shit about it and I don't know why -"

"Of course you don't," Mick says, sounding amused. "You wouldn't."

Len eyes him suspiciously. "You say that like you do know."

No way. Mick's been in a freaking coma; how could he have figured out what the hell's going on with Len's emotional state before Len did?

"Lenny," Mick says, sounding just a bit patronizing. "I might be a blockhead, but I've been interpreting your emotions for you since juvie. 'course I know."

"You're not a blockhead," Len protests automatically, always on guard against anyone - even Mick - putting down Mick's intelligence. He hates it when people do that; Mick's one of the smartest guys he knows, even if he doesn't talk all that pretty. "You just don't got as much education as some, s'all."

Though Mick's got a point about Len's emotions.

Not that Len's going to ask him to explain.

It doesn't matter, after all, what's done is done. Who cares how he feels about it?

Who cares about understanding why Len feels like he got a shiv to the gut every time he even thinks about Barry - about Allen, damnit - and a feeling like he swallowed crushed glass but also a weird kind of happiness left over from when every thought of Barry brought him joy?

Who cares -

Len. Len cares. Len cares a lot.

"Okay, I'll bite," he says, giving in. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"You're in love with him," Mick says. "Obviously."

...what?

No.

Impossible.

In love? Len doesn't do love.

Len's never done love, or at least not love like that - love for Lisa, love for Mick, yes, but not the stupid sort of Valentine's Day love, the type you read about in novels that you don't admit to reading, the type that makes the world turn around you and leaves you breathless and chokes in your throat, ripping your heart out of your chest because it belongs to someone else who doesn't care as much as you care, and leaves you with an awful gaping hole in your belly whenever you think about the fact they're going to go away for good somewhere where you won't see that optimistic smile or hear that laugh or -

Shit.

Shit.

"...I really am an idiot that can't do social situations for shit," Len says aloud, realizing.

"You really are," Mick says, but he sounds fond. "Don't worry; I came to terms with that years ago."

"But I can't be in love with him," Len says, trying so desperately to shove that knowledge back under the river of denial where it came from that he doesn't even make a de-Nile pun like he usually does. "I can't! He - he's - he's done unforgivable things – kidnapping, imprisonment, solitary – literal war crimes – and he should've known better, he's corrupt -"

"Sounds to me like he made some mistakes -"

"Mistakes?!" Len yowls.

Mick holds up a hand. "Okay, fine, yeah, some of those mistakes are crimes, some might even be war crimes, but seriously, Snart, if you stopped liking someone just because they committed a couple of horrific crimes, you and me, we wouldn't be friends."

"It's not the same thing!" Len protests.

"I'm an arsonist, Lenny; I literally murder people sometimes."

"Usually as an unintended side effect," Len says dismissively. Intent matters, when it comes to criminal stuff; most of the time Mick could be blamed for nothing worse than negligent manslaughter and that's only technically murder. Len checked. "He's corrupt, Mick. He put himself out as being a hero, as someone doing the right thing, as someone upholding the law, and all the while he's doing stuff like that in the shadows...I can't be in love with someone like that, Mick. I can't. Look what corruption did to you! Look what it did to me and Lisa, when it was my dad! Look what -"

Mick catches Len's hands, which Len has been waving angrily in the air.

"Don't move like that!" Len exclaims, losing his prior train of thought immediately. "Your muscles aren't used to sudden movement; you'll hurt yourself!"

"It hurt," Mick says. "It was still worth it. Boss, you're spiraling."

"I'm - what?"

"Spiraling. My shrink told me about it; you get stuck in a mental rut and you can't get out of it, so you just go in circles, on and on, torturing yourself with all your bad thoughts. In this case, it's me." Mick squeezes Len's hands. "You've been torturing yourself with what happened to me. Except instead of thinking about it and dealing with it and getting over it, you've poured everything you feel into your war on corruption, focused so much on it that you're seeing unforgivable corruption and betrayal every way you look. But you don't gotta keep doing that. I'm here. I'm okay. I'm alive."

Len stares at Mick.

His hands, still enclosed in Mick's, start shaking. His shoulders, too, and he can't seem to make them stop.

"You're alive," Len croaks, suddenly finding it hard to talk. He’d known Mick was alive and mostly well for a while now, couple of days, but it suddenly feels like he’s learning it all over again. "You're alive. You're alive and you're talking and you're you and - fuck, Mick, I nearly lost you."

"I know."

"I can't do this shit without you," Len says, desperate now. "Any of it. Life, the universe, everything; it doesn't matter. I need you by my side, Mick. I need my partner - I need my best friend. It all turns to ash without you."

"I'm here," Mick says, strong and solid and dependable as ever. "You've got me."

"I don't -" Deserve you, Len is about to say, only he chokes on it; he never knew he felt that way. "I lied to you. For years. By omission, by commission...I put my job above our partnership. I shouldn't have. I really shouldn't have. You're more important - you're the most important. I ain't never gonna put anything above you ever again. Not work, not romance, not anything nor anyone. Not anything. I'm so goddamn sorry, Mick. Not just for what I did to you, for what happened, but for the lying. For all of it."

"You're an idiot," Mick says, and he squeezes Len's hands again. "Total idiot. Boss, it's fine. Really. I get it. I get why you made that choice - especially now that I know it was all about your issues, not about me and what you thought of me. Even before that, though, I got it. I knew you were a pig and I came to get you anyway, remember? Through gunfire and furious Families, and that's saying something."

Len nods mutely.

"I did it because we're partners," Mick tells him. "And we're always gonna be partners. Always gonna be friends, even if you do something dumb like lie to me or fall in love with a target of your investigation before you finish investigating him -"

"Hey," Len protests, but weakly. Mick has a point. A very good point.

"No matter what, it doesn't matter," Mick concludes. "You and me against the world, remember? That ain't changed."

Len nods, and turns his hands to squeeze Mick's hands back.

"Now for the love of fuck can we please stop talking about feelings?" Mick asks, almost begging. "You really don't pay me enough to be your shrink. You couldn't. You could offer me all of Fort Knox and I wouldn't be your shrink."

Len snorts, maybe a little wetly but not from tears because he doesn't do tears, and pulls back his hands. "Yeah, sure, we can stop. I think I hit my yearly quota of feelings there."

"No kidding," Mick says fervently. "You hit yours, and mine, and then mine again a few time. I'll let you off the hook this one time, just 'cause I know you've been saving it up the whole time I was out, but still, for someone who likes to say he don't got a heart, you sure got a hell of a lot to say. Oh, and don't think I didn't notice you slipping that 'ash' pun in there."

"Ash is the right word!" Len protests. "Just because it's fire-related don't mean it's always a pun!"

"With you, it's always a pun," Mick says firmly.

Len laughs. If it's a little more hysterical and sounds a bit more like sobs than it normally does, they'll both be more than willing to overlook that.

As they like to remind each other, they don’t have hearts – or at least they know to keep them well hidden.

(God, Mick is Len's best friend - how did he last so long without him? No wonder everything's been screwing up left and right while he's gone.)

"Hey, wait a minute," Mick says thoughtfully, "while we're talking about this shit, before we shove it all down the memory hole, tell me - how come you never had to turn me in? I did plenty of crimes while we were running as thieves."

"Were running?" Len echoes, alarmed, and he looks down at Mick's legs to see if something's happened to them in the last few minutes. The doctors told him Mick would get his mobility back, or at least most of it, and his legs aren't as affected as his back and shoulders. There should be no impact on his ability to run, or at least to walk quickly. Or does Mick know something he doesn't...?

"Yeah, I hear through the grapevine that you got yourself a new job," Mick says dryly. "Not much thieving to be done there. Plus I figure it might be time to retire from the whole thief thing myself, too, all things considered."

"Ah. Right. I forgot."

Metaphorically running, right, that's an option.

"Don't go forgetting you quitting crime, boss; it's a kinda big deal. You really got a business card like Skirt says?"

"Yeah, it's awful," Len says. "Stamped, embossed proof that I'm legit now."

"Embossed," Mick marvels. "Now I know I gotta retire, if you've shifted over to doing the hunting."

"I'm Internal Affairs, actually," Len says. "I only hunt corrupt cops, district attorneys, and other government employees, not criminals."

"Really? Huh. Shoulda known you'd find a loophole – crime-fighting without actual crime-fighting."

"What can I say? I'm very good at what I do," Len sniffs, smiling when Mick laughs - finally getting the double meaning that's always been there. "And, uh, about your crimes -"

"Yeah?"

"So, I might've registered you as a CI couple of years ago," Len confesses, deciding that exactly how many years constituted a couple was an open question up for debate. Couple could totally mean a decade plus. "Proper legal confidential informant for both the CCPD and the Feds. Then after a few years of that, I got you swapped over to being classified as full undercover -"

"Wait," Mick says, alarmed. "You telling me the reason all of my prison sentences were so short was 'cause the judges all thought I was a pig?!"

"You didn't care about the reason back then!"

"I'm a pig?!"

"No, you never went to police academy, you ain't a pig," Len says, rolling his eyes. "I told 'em you were working for me as a non-officer agent, and it ain't like they really care about a few arsons when they've got the whole set of Families to take down. You're a snitch at best."

Mick considers this.

"I'm okay with being a rat," he finally decides. "I like rats. They're cute. Remember Axl?"

Len does remember Mick's pet rat Axl. Mick doted on him, and even Len got pretty fond. They ended up having to find him a new owner - a woman with a gigantic rat cage that took up half the living room, which both she and Mick agreed was the right balance of pet-to-owner space (Len thought they were both nuts) - and he lived to a ripe old age with god-knows-how-many descendants.

"But seriously," Mick continues, "they actually all bought that? Didn't they ever ask you why I was willing to do all that work without being paid?"

"Well. Actually..."

"Boss. Boss, no. I know that tone of voice. You telling me I got paid? Is there some savings account somewhere with my name forged on it that you conveniently never told me about?"

"Maybe."

Mick rolls his eyes, grinning; he knows that's as good as a yes. "Anything else you'd like to tell me while we're at it?"

Len considers this. "...did Danvers' group-chat mention my cold gun?" he finally asks, reaching down and patting the piece in question. He'd been carrying it with him in case Barry tried to come confront him or something, though luckily Barry hasn't.

Barry wouldn't. He knows that, now that he's thinking a bit more calmly. Not at a hospital, certainly, but not ever. He wouldn't force his presence on Len like that, thinking he was unwanted.

"At length, yeah," Mick says dryly. "Your new baby."

"Well," Len says, ignoring that. So what if his gun is the best, sweetest girl he's ever seen, once you exclude Lisa from the calculations? "What Danvers doesn't know is that it came as part of a set - one cold gun, one heat gun."

"Heat gun? Like a flamethrower?"

"Better - it manipulates the intensity of infrared waves. You can light anything on fire."

"Boss," Mick says. "I've already forgiven you for the whole pig thing. You don't need to heap on the presents."

"You saying you don't want it?"

"You bet your ass I want it!" Mick exclaims, laughing. "Man, I'm gonna need to thank this Allen guy when I meet him; you never used to give out such good gifts."

Len flinches. Just a little, but Mick notices, of course.

"Boss?"

"You won't, uh, you won't exactly be meeting him," Len says. "Anytime...ever."

"Why not?"

"Because after I found out about the secret prison thing, I had his foster dad arrested for corruption, got warrants to search the homes of his two best friends, and got Barry suspended from his job without pay pending investigation. So I don't think he's really in the mood to talk to me."

"...shit, boss," Mick says after a long few minutes. "You sure love to put the 'over' in 'over-reaction', don't you?"

"They committed crimes," Len says defensively. "Very bad crimes. And they should've known better!"

"Boss! Ain't you the one always telling me about how intent matters? Ain't they being manipulated by some mastermind creep asshole who's good enough to be playing the Families? Even criminal courts don't consider stuff done under duress and deception to be as bad!"

Len winces. That's...not actually wrong. Sure, they committed some fairly horrific crimes and they totally should've known better, but there were some extenuating circumstances he probably ought've thought a bit more about. Any man who could play not just one but multiple Families clearly had an edge when it came to mind games - and don't think Len hasn't noticed the way Barry'd described the toxic atmosphere and emotional jibes and the almost parental relationship the guy set up in his office, which is the sort of environment that can convince even otherwise intelligent people to do seriously shady things.

It's not an excuse, not at all. But it is something of an explanation. Probably not enough to knock down the charge from primary to accessory, but a judge could definitely look at that and find lots there to help mitigate -

"Boss..."

"I know, I know! You don't understand, I was just really angry -"

"Boss!" someone that is definitely not Mick exclaims, bursting through the door. "We've found something!"

Len is off the bed, one crutch in the air wielded as a club, before they even finish the sentence, and then he realizes it's just Detective Thawne and Iris.

"Oh, it's you," he says blankly. "How'd you even know to find me here?"

"Uh," Thawne says, eying the raised crutch warily. "Ms. Danvers told us. Pretty reluctantly. You - wanna put that crutch down? You're looking a bit unsteady."

Len rolls his eyes and does, sitting back down.

"Does that work?" Iris asks. "As an improvised weapon, I mean?"

"Better than you'd think," Len says dryly.

"How come he's still got crutches, anyway?" Mick asks from his bed. "Ain't it been months since he got fucked up?"

"Apparently he keeps tearing his injuries back open," Iris says.

"Damnit, boss..."

"That's not the reason," Len says, even though he kind of does do that more than he should. "It's because the second gunshot nicked my spine and it takes lots longer to heal from that."

"And you keep tearing your injuries back open," Iris says wisely.

"...and that," Len concedes grumpily.

"I'm Iris," she adds, waving at Mick. "Iris West. This is my fiancé, Eddie Thawne. We're helping Captain Snart here investigate the disappearances -"

"Heard of you," Mick says, waving in the general direction of his phone. "Skirt – uh, Danvers – she’s got a group-chat with running commentary up -"

"I want in," Iris says at once. “That sounds amazing.”

"- but you said West, right? Didn't the boss here just..? Why you still working with him after that?"

"Because my dad deserves to get into trouble over this shit," Iris says, an angry glint in her eyes. "Between the lying and the deception and the blatant aiding and abetting of human trafficking, I'm starting to wonder if I ever really knew him at all -"

"Hold up," Len says. "Fiancé? That's new. Congrats, both of you."

That works splendidly to derail Iris, who spends the next few moments showing them both her ring while Thawne blushes and smiles and is entirely unable to look away from Iris, stars in his eyes the whole time.

"Nice," Len says. "Tasteful - pretty, but with some class."

"I'd definitely steal it," Mick agrees.

"Definitely," Len agrees. “I could fence that in minutes.”

"You're both very sweet," Iris says. "And if it ever goes missing, I'll be sure to check with you two first. Anyway, not the point! We came here to tell you that we've figured it out!"

"The Families' 'big day'?" Len asks, immediately interested. "Or Wells' connection to it?"

"Both, actually," Thawne says, brightening. "It's complicated and - well, a little frightening, but we think we have an idea of where the rabbit hole leads, at least, although I wouldn't go as far as Iris and say we actually figured it out."

"We got a good start," Iris says, with dignity. "That's further than most people've gotten."

"And you managed to do it without being 'disappeared', well done you," Len drawls.

"He means that as a compliment," Mick remarks.

"Yes, we gathered," Iris says, grinning at him. "Listen to the tone, not the words, right?"

"Sometimes the tone'll mislead you, but yeah, generally. I usually use body posture - the more lounging, the better his mood."

Len pointedly straightens back up, causing Iris to snigger, Thawne to smile, and Mick to chuckle.

"What's this about Families, though?" Mick asks. "Thought Snart was focused on corrupt cops and government people now."

"I'm sure I can find a police corruption hook somewhere," Len says airily. "You know what they say, you can take the boy out of org crime work..."

"Not a real saying, Snart," Mick says, long-suffering. "Never was."

"Actually, you might have more of a hook than we originally thought," Thawne says. "You see, the Families -"

"Plural?"

"That's right, Mr. Rory -"

"Mick."

"Mick," Iris says with relish. She's going to use this to try to get permission to call Len by his name, he just knows she is. Pity she's doomed to disappointment. "Yes, Families, plural; we've confirmed that all the Families in Central have agreed to work together on this."

"All of 'em? Shit."

"Agreed," Len says.

"Shoulda stayed in the coma..."

"Don't say shit like that or I'll smack you with a crutch," Len tells him, then transfers his attention back to the other two. "So what is it? What's the big day? And, perhaps equally important, when?"

"We can answer your last question best," Thawne says. "We're still not sure exactly what the Families are planning - we know it involves a lot of movement, a lot of manpower, though probably a lot of that is just security - but we've identified what the major Central-wide event they're going to use to conceal their mobilization."

"You're not going to like it," Iris interjects.

"I never liked any part of this," Len points out. "Hit me."

"The Families' big day goes down on Election Day," Thawne says.

"...Election Day," Len says. "Election Day. Election Day?!"

He's pretty sure he's not adequately conveying the sheer horror he's feeling right now.

Election Day.

Not the one held in November, which is all well and good, but the important one for Central City purposes: the primary election that happens each year in May.

The day where the real candidate selection takes place.

Only one of the wildest days of the entire Central City social calendar.

Most of the country has faded into widespread apathy, not bothering with votes that they feel rarely matter, and all the more so when it's "only" a primary – but not Central City.

Oh, no, not Central City, with its still-functioning political machine with its armies of thugs available to help 'encourage' voting. Central City's government might be rife with corruption, yes, and one-party control is practically a given, but at some point some genius decided to deal with the fact that there are competing sources of corruption by allowing a total free-for-all when it came to who got the nod for what position.

Corporate candidates battle it out with nationalists and progressives and reformers and who-the-hell-knows-what-else. In Central, even the communists abandon their flag in favor of competing in the bloodbath of Election Day, knowing that the political machine would force the city - and with it, the state - to fall into line come the federal election day, a far less important date.

Election Day.

And the Families are moving.

Not a good combination.

Especially since –

“Election Day is tomorrow!” he exclaims.

"Yeah," Iris says grimly. "Not good at all. Like Eddie says, we haven't figured out exactly what they're up to, but if it's on Election Day, dollars to donuts is that it involves the election itself."

"And with the Commissioner hoping to run for mayor while the mayor runs for governor, getting anyone's attention to doing anything to stop them will be a trick and a half," Len says, equally grim. "What'd you find out about Wells?"

"We think he's being used as a liaison between the Families and more legitimate entities," Thawne says. "Although why -"

He cuts off in the middle of his sentence.

Quite reasonably, in Len's view, given that they are no longer alone in the room.

The Man in Yellow is here.

The name Barry gave him is apt, Len thinks; far more than the Reverse Flash. Beyond the monstrous speed, there's nothing of Barry here at all, not even a reflection.

Standing in the middle of the room with his entire body vibrating at a consistent blur that Barry hasn't mastered, utterly human but for his demonically bright red eyes, the Man in Yellow smiles.

"Don't let me interrupt you, gentlemen," he says, his voice as blurred as his face. He's being obnoxiously courteous, in a sort of arrogant narcissist way that suggests he's entertaining himself in the moments before he plans to kill them all. "You were saying -"

"And lady," Len interrupts, rising to his feet.

"...what?"

"Gentlemen, and lady," Len says. "I believe Iris identifies as a lady."

"I do," Iris says, looking somewhat perturbed by Len's sudden interest in grammar. "‘Gentlemen and lady’ is in fact correct."

The Man in Yellow - Wells himself, or someone in his employ - blinks those shining red eyes, clearly taken aback.

Len assumes he had some sort of introductory speech planned out. Too bad for him that Len isn’t the type to willingly subject himself to evil monologues.

"Would you like to move on to the part where you threaten to kill us all?" Len inquires. "Or do you generally just go straight to the actual murder?"

The Man in Yellow laughs, the sound ringing through the room. "I usually like to make a point of it," he says, raising a vibrating hand. It's moving as fast as a sawblade - if he touches any of them with that, they're done for. "But I think you're right that I should just move on to the main event -"

Len shoots him with the cold gun he'd wrestled into position while the Man in Yellow was distracted by Len’s grammatical non-sequitur.

The Man in Yellow screams.

"Iris, Thawne, run!" Len shouts, keeping the cold blast aimed dead center at the Man in Yellow's face and torso. He'd theorized, based on what happened when it hit Barry, that a hit straight to the head would be disabling to a speedster as long as the beam was maintained; with such key areas targeted, the speedster's body would prioritize healing the damage over anything else, robbing them of the presence of mind they would need to either run away or attack.

"Come with us!" Iris shouts back.

Len centers his legs, which have started shaking, and exhales through his nose. He needs both hands to aim the gun properly - two hands, which leaves none for his crutches; that's why he's been using the braces whenever he's gone out as Captain Cold. Still, all that PT is finally coming in handy: even without crutches, he can stand.

But not for long.

The second he falls back to sit on the bed, his hands will slip, and the beam will drift off target - only by a little, only for a second, but that's all the Man in Yellow will need to escape.

If he tries to leave, he might be able to keep the beam on him until he reaches the door -

But there's one person in the room who can't leave.

"I ain't leaving Mick," he shouts back. "Get out of here! Find a place to hide!"

Even at superspeed, hiding would force the Man in Yellow to look for them - they certainly can't hope to outrun him.

"You get out too!" Mick snaps even as Iris nods jerkily and hurries out, urged on by Thawne. "Boss -"

"I ain't picking something over you again and that's final!"

"Damnit, Len -"

Len's legs give out.

The Man in Yellow darts out of the beam, snarling in rage, his face - and it does look like Wells under what little is left of that mask, or the pictures Len's seen of him - still covered in ice and burned by swiftly healing frostbite.

And then there's a swift wind.

Len closes his eyes, expecting to die so quickly that he doesn't have time to question it - or perhaps to be taken to be tortured, if that's more Wells' speed -

Heh, speed.

Wait a second.

He hasn't been moved - his side would've been protesting if he had - and he's not dead, because he feels moderately sure he wouldn't be around to continue sniggering at puns if he was.

He opens his eyes.

The room is empty.

Wells is gone -

- but so is Mick.

"Mick!" Len cries out, even though he knows it's futile. The Man in Yellow has him.

Wells has his Mick.

"Snart!" Iris cries out, bursting into the room. There are tears of terror and rage streaming down her cheeks. "Snart - he took Eddie! I saw him - the red lightning! He took Eddie!"

"He took Mick, too," Len says, barely able to process it. He just got Mick back - he just fucking got Mick back after nearly losing him to people who hurt Mick because of Len, and here it is, happening all over again.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Families if it wasn't for Len, and what he did and who he was.

Mick wouldn't have been a target to the Man in Yellow, if it wasn't for Len's investigation.

Mick -

Mick, who is still bedridden, who is still hospital-bound, who will die if he didn't have the treatment he needed -

Mick is gone.