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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #harringrove #it’s implied harringrove at least because Steve is the boyfriend in question #story by ej!#ej writer #this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go #it was also initially from a much larger story #I just decided this was the only part I like #if you take note of the date tho I think y’all can probably tell where I was going with this #just wanted to write Billy coming out to Max because we as a fandom kinda decided that she already knew bc of that one vague convo #but like that stuff is really hard to pick up on when you’re the clueless little sister #(trust me lol)#I think it’s more something like maybe she snitched on him for doing smthn neil knew was Bc he was gay but she didn’t #and she never put the pieces together until he told her #featuring (subtle) autistic Max bc when doesn’t my writing #and colorblind Billy if you squint with the nail polish

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solanj · 3 years

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Gatewatch&Co playing DnD

Jace

Jace is the forever DM. His plotlines are extremely well thought-trough and his puzzles are exquisite. Prefers detective-style stories and is great at setting up the intrigue. Players never can guess too early. He knows ALL the rules. Is prepping meticulously. He is that type of GM that will hand out actual letters or trinkets to players, if they happen to find them. Every NPC, every plotline, every bit of PC's backstories are accounted for and weaved into the planned narrative. (Of course it all always end up completely derailed) Actively uses illusions for both descriptions and combat and everyone just LOVES that. Still insists on having actual minis, though. After some persuasion from the party agreed to use telepathy to tell players the "only your character knows that" info, which drove his intrigue even further.

Chandra

Chandra usually plays a hotheaded sorcerer. Gender and age may vary, but the sorcerer always falls for whomever Nissa is playing at the moment. Is the most enthusiastic of the group and the #1 reason Jace's thought-through plots get derailed. Because she always invents something crazy and drags the rest into it and even she never knows what her character is going to do until she opens her mouth to declare it. Due to it has the most dead characters among the party - Jace isn't a harsh GM, but he never fudges his rolls. Chandra doesn't sweat it, though, she just brings a new sorcerer next session. She generally ensures a goofy, light-hearted atmosphere and doesn't like it when stories go too dark or dramatic. Never waits for others to make a plan before heading into combat. Has the quickest combat turns.

Nissa

Nissa only agreed to play because Chandra was SO enthusiastic about it that Nissa just hadn't the heart to say "no". She ended up loving it. Doesn't speak much at the table (and her characters are always the quite ones), but has the most carefully crafted backstories. Only uses third-person style, but never speaks out of character during the play time. Actually knows the rules very well and never blunders, but also never engages in rules arguments when they happen. Once all the revelations from her backstory come through her character ends up being everyone's favourite, remembered for a long time.

Gideon

Gideon only plays because he thinks that a common bonding activity such as this is great for the Gatewatch's dynamics. Is usually the one to bring in snacks and to help Jace tidy everything up after the session. Plays martial tanky protective characters, usually goes with the options that PHB recommends. Likes to strategize in-game. Isn't good at roleplaying but is trying his best and everyone appreciates it. Was actually sad when Liliana left the party since her character made it easier for him to engage in conversations and decision-making due to her teasing and provocative nature. (No one knows if that was intentional on her part)

Teferi

Teferi prefers GM'ing but doesn't have the time to prep and run the whole campaign. So he usually runs rather short adventures. He leans towards more humorous style and is a great improviser. Likes to give his players maximum freedom and allows them to goof around all they want, but still manages to make the plot work. His NPCs are usually witty, he does different (and often exagerrated) voices for each of them and players tend to engage into social side of the game a lot because the dialogue scenes with him are just so enjoyable. Loves to mess with the players. Adds red herrings, makes NPS pretend to believe the player's bluff only to reveal the truth at the best possible moment later, hands out tricky magical items (most players learned to NEVER draw cards from unchecked decks, but there is always Chandra...). He is placing the most bizarre and memorable mimics and hilarious traps. But does all that in good faith and with good humor, to make the players thrilled but not annoyed. And it works!

Kaya

Kaya plays exclusively rogues and she probably tried every build possible. Is the min-maxer of the party. Is known for completely decimating the encounters that Jace planned to be extra challenging. Was often splitting the party at first, but agreed not to after some persuasion. Doesn't roleplay much, though she enjoys spectating others do it and never tries to force them to the next scene. LOVES Jace's puzzles and usually finds an unorthodox but interesting and convincing way to solve them. (That's probably why Jace can't really be annoyed with her despite her minmaxing) Has the best luck for crits in combat, but the worst for disabling traps.

Vraska

Vraska rather often misses the sessions due to guild and/or pirate business, but she tries her hardest to have free spots on her schedule during game nights. Is probably the most dedicated member of the group. Grows very attached to her characters and once the campaign ends she never returns to the same archetype, so that the impression wouldn't dilute. And because of it she doesn't have a "type", though her characters are always brave and have troubled pasts. Is the one to commission the paintings of her characters (and sometimes the rest of the party too). Is also quite the shipper (no matter if the character in question is her own, party member or NPC), but keeps it to herself, only sharing with Jace sometimes. She tells Jace everything about her character in the beginning so that he can play it when Vraska has to miss a session.

Ral

Ral played every class in the game that he could more or less convincingly make into a charming bastard. Is prone to hogging the spotlight, but does roleplay so well and is so charming that others let it slide. Often insists on using some homebrewed rules (which he keeps reinventing right during the conversation), giving Jace a headache. Jace gave in once, but during the next several sessions he made sure to stage the situations so that every possible side effect of said homebrew came to bite Ral in the ass (yes, it's where most of his prep time went). Now they usually settle on just some minor changes for Ral's character. Is #2 reason for derailing Jace's plotlines. Unlike Chandra he does this absolutely intentionally, and Jace knows it, but sees as a challenge. His character is the one, to whom all the "curiosity" magic items go. You have no idea what a dedicated Izzet mage can do with a simple unmoving rod. Jace actually throws extra stuff his way just to see what crazy application Ral will come up with.

Liliana

Liliana played a couple sessions once. She made a point of derailing the plotline in a discreet way while staying strictly in-character. Also she made Jace fluster whenever he had to play through a conversation with her via NPC. Decided that it was fun but ultimately not worth it in the long run. (To Jace's relief) Since she never actually plays Jace can discuss with her his plans and plots and sometimes he asks for her input on the villains. Sometimes he even invites Liliana to act out a villain in the dialogue-heavy session and she is VERY convincing. Her villains are always the ones players love to hate. From time to time she GMs oneshots and prefers intrigue- and drama-heavy stories, often horror, that may or may not be inspired by her long and varied life experiences. She isn't a stranger to fudging the rolls or overriding the rules if she feels that the situation calls for it. Is very good at reading the table and the undisputed master of putting her players in heart-wrenching situations faced with tough decisions. They usually love it, but Chandra refuses to play with her anymore because "don't we have enough of that shit IRL?!" She sometimes contemplates running a full WoD campaign, but always decides against it in the end.

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Divide”

Hello, everyone, and welcome back! It feels good to be doing some normal RWBY-ing in this strange world of ours. First, some supplementary materials.

Number One: In response to any (valid) questions along the lines of, “Hey Clyde, it’s now been a full year since Volume 7 was airing and you still haven’t answered my ask about it. Or the ones about Volume 6… what’s up with that?” I’ve created what I hope is an informative video detailing the problem:

vimeo

(I assure you, the Earth, Wind & Fire was a happy accident during the screen recording.)

Needless to say, there’s a lot and I’ve known for some time now that I will LITERALLY never get through all my asks. Which doesn’t mean I don’t want you to send future thoughts in! Just know that as we head into Volume 8 territory I’ll most likely prioritize those, as well as any Volume 7 asks that aren’t woefully out of date. But I do want everyone to know that I read all the asks I receive, appreciate them immensely, and think too much about hypothetical answers, even if I don’t have time to actually write them out 💜

Number Two: There’s a bingo board this year!

Jury’s out on whether I’ll remember to update it, but at the very least this serves as a decent glimpse into my — and others’ — expectations going into this volume.

Number Three: I’ve collected a list of things I’ve heard about Volume 8 from what seem to be reputable sources. I did this because RT is developing a tendency to talk up certain points and then fail to deliver, either because something was taken out of a volume/moved to another, or because RT apparently has radically different ideas about what including something means. So this might be handy to keep on file and ask ourselves two months from now, “Did RT actually deliver on what they promised?”

Emphasis on Ruby’s leadership and how Summer’s death has impacted her

Insight into Ren and Nora’s flaws

May Merigold will supposedly have a larger part

More information about The Long Memory (Ozpin’s cane)

Theme of the volume is that you can respect someone but that doesn’t necessarily mean you agree with them

Very short timeline (supposedly just two days)

Yang in particular is very suspicious and distrustful

I was also going to include a list of all the threads that need to be continued/wrapped up, but honestly that would have taken too large a chunk off my life. Let’s just throw out the highlights:

Are we really going to have Qrow gunning for Ironwood?

Clover is dead regardless. Press ‘F’ to pay respects

Oscar bb you got shot please acknowledge this

Ozpin bb you got done dirty please acknowledge this

Penny is a Maiden now. I feel like the fandom has been sleeping on this (myself included)

Queer baiting, queer baiting… you’re on thin ice at this point, RWBY. Just skate on over to the queer snack bar before you fall straight into the lake.

Ren spill your deep dark secret already and it had better be something more than just ‘Oh no Nora might someday die :( ’

Salem is here so how the actual fuck is the cast surviving this?

Will Ironwood likewise survive his descent into antagonism? Yes or please yes no?

I think that’s all the biggies. I strive to keep lists like this in mind while analyzing, but honestly RWBY has a hundred moving parts that are abandoned or changed or simply retconned at the drop of a hat. So an attempt will be made.

Number Four (last one I promise!): Normal disclaimers and reminders for Recaps apply:

Please don’t fill up the already full inbox with flames. It’s still 2020. No one has time for that nonsense.

There will absolutely be typos and wonky parts because I try to get these out the same day an episode premieres. I have now been working on this for ten hours, nearly straight, and have no more energy for edits. Apologies in advance and RIP to my Saturdays.

I reserve the right to use stupid GIFs and memes at my discretion.

I strive to keep my focus on recapping/analyzing but salt tends to worm its way in… If you’re a die-hard RWBY fan with little patience for criticism, let alone (at times) snarky criticism, please proceed with caution.

No wait I lied, this is the last thing:

Okay, got that out of my system LET’S DO THIS!

We start not with the episode itself but rather Rooster Teeth’s (RT’s) strange non-promotion of it. If you follow my blog you may have caught the post where I pointed out that there was nothing on RT’s website to suggest that one of their most popular shows—if not the most popular show—was premiering today. Nothing on the main page. Nothing on the RWBY page either, not unless you count the Volume 8 poster background (easily mistaken for the Volume 7 poster) and the trailer buried all the way down past Episodes, past Merch, in the Bonus Features section along with videos like Live From Remnant and the volume intros. RT… the promotion of your feature show is not a bonus. This should be front and center! Honest to god, five minutes before the episode dropped I was checking the website for a Volume 8 section, a countdown, anything that would tell me the episode was imminent without relying on fans on tumblr to keep me in the loop. We got nada, zilch. I’m not sure whether that speaks more to RT’s iffy management of the series or simply the website’s horrible design—RIP losing RWBY on Youtube—but I was surprised when I saw the episode a few minutes after 11:00am. At that point I honestly expected to hear about a dely.

So that’s the mood I entered the premiere in, but truly? We start off strong. Things take a pretty severe nosedive later on, we’ll get to that, but I was impressed with our beginning and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that we start with our villains.

We open on a Cinderella character, Cinder, and thus I’m immediately pleased that we’re getting something about her backstory after all this time. Seven years! She appeared in episode one, folks! To say we’re overdue is an understatement. There isn’t a whole lot to go on, just a younger Cinder sadly scrubbing the floor, poised under a spotlight. What we learn, or potentially learn, is based far more in cultural knowledge than this scene. We know Cinderella’s story, which includes the abusive family, the longing for more, the eventual escape, and thus we’re able to read all of that in this image, despite the image itself not telling us any of this overtly. That means we could be wrong in our interpretation, but if we’re not it’s an easy shorthand in an already packed story.

What I’m really impressed with is the sound bridge between the scrubbing and her nails on the back of Neo’s chair. Fantastic way to confirm that this is Cinder as well as showcasing just how far she’s come. The sound of her labor has been replaced with the sound of her power and given that Cinder’s power is stolen, tied to a grimm arm, the property of a genocidal maniac… that’s messed up. It’s a Cinderella story gone wrong.

So yeah, Cinder tells Neo to head straight into the creepy, grimm infested blood cloud to see Salem and Neo is like, ‘Uh… no thank you?’ lol.

RT does a good job this episode with her expressions, ensuring we know exactly what she’s thinking despite an unwillingness/inability to speak.

Poor Neo might be in too deep, but I quite like the overall atmosphere of this opening. Say what we will about Salem’s awful characterization, at least she has style. This woman knows how to make an entrance and, piggybacking off of the Apathy, RT knows how to infuse horror elements into their fantasy. The red and purple coloring of the clouds, spiked whale teeth peeking through, bright orange in the background looking like explosions… that’s all 👌 Including the intro card.

The only thing I want to gripe about is this:

I’m sorry, why does the whale grimm have landing pads? Or something like it?? The whale otherwise works because it’s poised between the natural and the fantasy synthetic. It looks like a real grimm whale on the outside, but is sporting a throne room, a control panel, and other unnatural elements on the inside. It’s a visual indicator of Salem’s ability to control and change grimm. Now though, the additions are wrong, infringing on the line between organic and tech, the line between what helps the grimm individually (giving monkeys wings) and what just helps Salem. Every other aspect of the whale straddles that line wonderfully, adding to the creep factor, like a grimm version of the Uncanny Valley: it’s not quite a whale anymore… but landing pads? That looks ridiculous. Why does Salem even have that? How many ships are her people feasibly using? Why are there five?

Take it away, please.

Cinder waltzes in like this is a normal home visit, but Neo has an appropriate ‘What the actual fuck?’ face going on.

They approach Salem on her throne where Cinder immediately kneels, greeting her with, “My queen.” I mentioned during my trailer breakdown that I think Cinder is lying her ass off here, and I still think that based on a line we’ll get in a minute, but now at least we have a sense of how she can pull this off. A woman who started out as a (presumed) servant is going to know how to mimic subservience, even if her heart isn’t in it. Salem is very good at playing the girl who will still kneel and scrub the floor for you. She will scrub the floor, she’ll do everything you want, she’ll just be plotting her own rise to power while she does it.

There’s quite a bit of interesting cinematography in this episode, not all of it good, and I think one of the mistakes is here when we get a closeup on Salem’s mouth as she greets Cinder. A closeup like that should be reserved for more significant dialogue—“Rosebud”—and yet we get this shot again when Cinder tells Emerald to be quiet. It’s awkward and coupled with the numerous eye closeups we got in the trailer, I think RT is playing a little fast and loose with the camera. Each shot should add something to the scene, not distract from it. If you don’t have a reason for including a technique like that then leave it be.

Back to the actual dialogue though. We knew that Salem knew Cinder was alive and now it seems that she just expected her to come back? I’m slightly lost. It feels like we’re missing something here. Cinder goes off to secure the lamp, fails, nearly dies, wanders on her own for months, and then randomly shows back up on Salem’s whale doorstep, yet Salem isn’t angry at all? Did she have faith that Cinder would return when she has something to offer? Did she just not care about Cinder, considering her return an unnecessary but otherwise welcome surprise? That would make the least sense given that she holds the key to accessing Beacon’s relic… but that circles right back around to why Salem is seemingly indifferent to Cinder’s comings and goings. Surely she can’t actually believe that Cinder is loyal?

“So I trust you wouldn’t return to me empty handed,” she says. Yeah, trust means nothing in this show, Salem, didn’t you watch Volumes 6 and 7? Again, I simply don’t know. I suppose I’ll just chalk it up to confidence, that if Cinder did bail Salem knew she could track her down again. Deciphering her motivations and beliefs is a lost cause when the show continually gives us so little.

The important thing now is that Cinder does indeed have an offering and you can see that Salem is somewhat surprised at being handed the relic.

Cinder, of course, takes credit for the victory and we’re given another wonderful shot of Neo. ‘YOU took it?’

Oh, Neo. Best get out while you still can.

Tyrian appears having obviously made his way to Salem’s ship sometime between her arrival and now. The exchange is pretty standard for this group. He insults Cinder for failing and needing this victory to make amends, talks about how any win against Ironwood says more about his lack of intelligence than her skill, and Cinder… doesn’t have a whole lot of comebacks, actually. I’d say Tyrian won that verbal spar, enhanced by a better use of the camera when we get his tail looming menacingly towards Cinder and Neo.

He goes on to say that Watts was a “necessary sacrifice” so, uh… I’m just going to toss out the ask I answered yesterday. Based on our intro I’d say Watts is still significant to the volume—hacking Penny is my guess—but by the end? He could be in trouble.

(As a side note: I plan to analyze the intro next week. It’s just easier when it comes first.)

Tyrian also calls Neo “little one” which I just found absolutely hilarious. In an on brand creepy manner, that is. Not that Neo couldn’t kick his ass, but there’s something wonderfully chilling about having the serial killer use an endearment towards a potential victim, one that comments on her size while he’s looming.

In contrast, Cinder refers to Neo as a “valuable asset” and we get our third mood of the episode.

Who’s going to start a Neo reaction image collection?

It’s true enough on the surface—who wouldn’t want an ally who can turn into anyone else?—but we’re still bumping up against question of why Salem needs this. She’s immortal! She has an endless army! Magic! This scene works well with a villain who needs a skillset like Neo’s to succeed, but Salem doesn’t. RT is doing a great job writing a story thus far, just not the story we’ve previously been given. This isn’t the story they set up.

This will come back up when we reach the RWBYJNOR group. Just wait.

Before that though, the gang’s all here as Emerald, Mercury, and Hazel show up, all in new outfits.

I think I like everything except for the weird Xs on Emerald’s jacket—it’s way too distracting and frankly makes an otherwise good look ugly—and the fact that she’s showing her midriff in Atlas. Hazel doesn’t have any sleeves! Oh my god, why doesn’t anyone dress for the weather in this show?

Frankly, I found their reunion to be kind of lackluster. I mean, there was nothing wrong with it. Emerald does sound briefly excited, she does run, and it’s in character for Cinder to cut her off… it just didn’t resonate with me emotionally. I thought after two volumes of thinking she’s dead, then working through the knowledge that she’s alive, that I would feel Emerald’s shock and relief more, but I didn’t. And I’m not entirely sure why. I don’t want to level any accusations at the voice acting because frankly I know next to nothing about that skill (and from what I’ve seen it’s usually praised in the fandom), but I will say that throughout the premiere I was noticing it more than I ever have before. The lack of emotion here and some awkward deliveries later, like when Yang goes, “Ruby, there is no way Ironwood will cooperate with us” and I immediately thought, “Wow, that came out stilted.” These observations stick with me because, as said, voice acting usually isn’t on my radar. It’s not something I’ve studied or had practice analyzing. If you’d never told me that Ren or Qrow’s VA changed then after a year hiatus I literally wouldn’t notice… but there’s something about this episode that didn’t sit right. Anyone else get that sense, or was it just me?

Regardless, the arrival of our other three villains really doesn’t amount to much, though I’m happy for all the Emerald and Mercury fans who get to see them in new outfits. The focus is still on Cinder as she delivers a line indicative of her true motivations: “That power will be mine.” Yeah, she’s not loyal to Salem, she’s just power hungry. Of course, Salem immediately takes note of this and raises her hand, in another nice use of the foreground, reminding her that she hasn’t given that order.

Cinder is shocked, angry even, but quickly covers it up with her “Without you I am nothing” line. If I caught it right I think she also calls Salem “Ma’am”? Hilarious. Again, skilled at playing the servant.

Also, before I forget, it’s worth noting that almost everything from our trailer appeared in this episode. Yeah, there are a few details like Nora attacking some tech and the group on their bikes, but on the whole we’ve already seen the majority of our promo material and will likely get most of the rest next week. It makes me both interested and nervous for what another twelve episodes are going to hold.

Salem opens her whale, or opens a portal type view in it, something that gives us a long-distance look at Atlas. I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but it’s pretty so I’ll take it.

She also delivers the frankly badass line, “Just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn does not make you a player.”

She waves them all away with perfect ‘You mean nothing to me’ attitude and we sadly leave our villains.

Sad not because I don’t love my farm boy, but because things are about to get a whole lot messier.

Oscar has made his way to a camp of civilian survivors… all of whom are just hanging out in the supposedly deadly cold. Yeah, there’s a single fire, but at least four of them aren’t anywhere near it. Three of them also aren’t wearing gloves. What was that survival rate again?

A nice if gruff dude gives Oscar soup—water?—while showing off his… badger claws? I don’t know what kind of faunus he’s supposed to be, but he feels like the sort of two second, minor character who could easily become a meme lol.

Oscar thanks him (my polite son!) and hands the bowl back after a single sip. Which is impressive because I would have assumed the guy was giving me the whole bowl and just taken it. Hell, I’ve done that even when I didn’t assume it’s all for me. A Starbucks barista once approached me with a tray and a plate of samples, I knew I was supposed to take just one, yet for some reason my hand went to take the whole goddamn plate. He had to tell me off, then I was trying to explain that I didn’t actually want or think I should have eight shots of cappuccino all to myself, I don’t even like coffee, he clearly didn’t believe me… it was awkward. So good job, Oscar. You’re less awkward than me (though that’s not saying much).

Now a question, Oscar. Darling. Brilliant boy who has been through too much: why the fuck aren’t you talking to Ozpin? This will be A Thing later when he presents a lack of time to talk as justification for keeping more secrets (we’ll get to that too…) yet here is time! You’re just sitting there for who knows how long, with plenty of privacy to hide a supposedly one-sided conversation so the Mantle citizens don’t get weirded out or suspicious. Talk to Ozpin. Our headmaster gets two lines in this episode, utterly inconsequential lines like his airship scene, lines that feel like they exist to say, “See? He’s still included in the story!” even though he absolutely is not. Two volumes of mostly silence, a perfect setup to start the reconciliation process, but we’re going to put it off again?

Instead Ruby randomly and conveniently appears. I want to know how she found him. Oscar isn’t wearing a tracker. He clearly didn’t call them because he’s surprised when Ruby shows up. He fell alllllllll the way back down to Mantle and then wandered to a random part of the slums. You’re telling me they flew over the entire city—after beginning this search thinking he was in Atlas—and somehow managed to spot him from up in the air? C’mon. I would have rather had a beginning where Oscar makes his way back to the group himself, giving him and Ozpin time to hash things out.

“Need a lift?” Ruby says, eliminating that potential. Sigh.

Oscar immediately starts beating himself up when he gets onboard, saying that he “was stupid to think the General would listen.” Nah, you were stupid to buy into Ruby’s nonsensical confidence and for telling Ironwood he’s as bad as Salem. Sorry, Oscar, but everyone is written badly these days. I will, however, say that I am THRILLED at the group’s reaction to his return. Ruby says that she’s “just glad you’re alright.” Nora has a wonderfully tender moment where she hugs him gently rather than her usual glomp.

That? That added a year to my life. Everyone else seems relieved that he’s okay too, so kudos there. After four years of Oscar being an outsider in the group, this is one of the few moments that feel like he’s 100% accepted. Really glad to see it.

Now let’s see if it sticks after they learn Ozpin is back...

They fly to the Happy Huntresses’ base and I again feel like I’ve missed something crucial. When did they team up? I mean, RWBYJNOR was working directly under Ironwood up until the last hour and Robyn ran off to fight Tyrian/Clover in the last couple episodes. When did she have time to explain her (briefly) changed allegiance and why would the Happy Huntresses trust the group without that? Did Robyn share that Blake and Yang went behind Ironwood’s back for her? Do the Huntresses instinctively trust them because they’re now wanted by the military? How did they even run into each other?

Again, I think we would have been better served to have an episode before all this. Let Oscar make his way back and let the group struggle with the magnitude of their situation on the airship, before they find new allies. Transferring directly to, “They have help and a secret base and a plan in the works!” makes me feel like I missed the real premiere last week. You know, the one where Salem unexpectedly arrived and we left the group like this.

This is where we’ve ended up though. The group is cozy in this hideout, getting info from Joanna, and my only other thought is, “Why is she giving all this exposition?”

Shouldn’t it be May? I mean, we were told that she was going to play more of a role this volume, a promise that’s pretty important imo given her status as a (so far off screen) trans character, so why not put her in the role of mediator between the Happy Huntresses and RWBYJNR? Giving her that setup as a leader among her people as well as lots of lines would be meaningful. A trans character just existing and being a part of this fight! May could obviously still fill that role—I’m well aware that we’re only one episode in—but it just seems like a missed opportunity to me. Out of all the undeveloped Happy Huntresses, our premiere focuses on the one who has the least importance to the fandom.

As said, Joanna talks a fair bit but what it basically boils down to is trying to get everyone to the crater below Atlas. It’s apparently not safe, but it’s warm, which is what matters right now.

So… let me get this straight. You want to gather everyone into a not safe crater, by leading them through an army of grimm, so that they can wait there in case someone moves the Staff, thus dropping an entire city on top of their heads? That’s the plan? Which admittedly isn’t Joanna’s fault. This is another instance of RWBYJNOR having information that a leader does not and they should really consider speaking up about it. But of course they don’t.

Also, how long does everyone have in regards to the cold? Shouldn’t there be dead civilians by now? The time it would take to find the Happy Huntresses, team up with them, get settled in the base, and find Oscar says that things should be pretty grim right now (pardon the pun), yet every non-aura user in this city seems content to just hang out in the snow. Either the cold is deadly enough to justify moving everyone to the crater, or it’s mild enough to let everyone survive this long, not both.

After hugs are given everyone obviously wants to know what happened to Oscar. His response?

“It’s a… long story. I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.”

That’s a check for the bingo card! We’re halfway through the first episode and we’ve already got another secret. Yes, this is a secret. Oscar actively chooses not to tell anyone that Ozpin is back—something Ozpin himself comments on—and then skillfully draws attention away from himself with “I get the feeling there’s been a few of those tonight.” Indeed, all eyes go to Penny. Oscar’s plight is forgotten, which is what he wanted. His justification?

Ozpin: “You’re not going to tell them?”

Oscar: “You and I aren’t done talking yet.”

Along with this look.

Oscar no. There’s so much wrong with this I don’t even know where to begin. Let’s create a list.

As said, you had plenty of time to talk to Ozpin and chose not to. Miss me with this excuse.

You are now doing to your friends exactly what you and your friends did to Ironwood, which in turn is what Ozpin did to you! I can’t believe we’ve got Oscar critically side-eyeing him when they are still—still—repeating the behavior they drove Ozpin away for.

What is there to even talk about now? Oscar didn’t punch himself/Ozpin (lol) but he did steal Jinn’s name from Ozpin in the first place. You got what you wanted, drove him away, and have been lying and keeping secrets ever since. The only thing they should be talking about involves apologizing. Any further criticism—which is what Oscar’s expression and curt reply suggests—is beyond hypocritical.

Seriously, what needs to be discussed? There’s no reason not to tell the group unless Oscar wants to talk about whether they should tell them. There’s no good ending here...

Don’t you think it would be nice to know that Ozpin is back and you’ve got super magic powers while making plans to save the entire world?

This is all especially stupid given Oscar’s “Salem wants to divide us” reminder to Ruby in a moment. Oscar, you are doing the most to divide the group right now. By not forgiving Ozpin. By refusing to work with him. By keeping him secret from everyone else.

This is bad, friends, I worry for what the rest of the volume will bring…

The story is done with Ozpin for now so I guess I will be too. The group continues filling Oscar in and we get some shots of the base, including a rather prominent poster of what I assume are two Happy Huntresses. Did they die in battle perhaps?

It’s a little strange.

Oscar: “Where’s Qrow?”

Me: “Likely still making bad decisions.”

No one knows so they just drop it. Which I kind of get, only so much you can do to find him if he’s not out on the streets like Oscar, but it still reads as kind of iffy that two nieces look down at the ground for a hot second and then move on with their plans, content to leave Qrow to whatever fate befell him. In a minute we’ll see Yang firmly take Ren’s side regarding helping the people they can in Mantle, which frankly comes out of nowhere for her. I think an easy motivation would have been Qrow. Ruby wants to save the world, Yang wants to find and save their uncle, and that just happens to align with Ren’s desire to save the civilians who need immediate grimm and cold help. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there’s finally some division between the sisters, I just wish it hadn’t come about so abruptly. Ren had setup for standing up to Ruby. Yang did not.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Joanna lists the grimm horde and no heat as the major threats to everyone. The group agrees.

Me: What about Salem?

Joanna says that this is all doubly dangerous because there’s “no more military protection.”

Me: Oh, so now you want the military?

This is all so disjointed. Even more-so when Joanna mentions that Ironwood has stopped all evacuations to Atlas, likely due to the “hard light shields” that are the only thing standing between Salem and the city. Thing is, the show never makes this connection, I just did it myself based on this scene and the one that comes later. The show presents Joanna’s line as a pure condemnation. Ironwood won’t let more evacuees in because… he’s just evil, I guess. Yet there is a justification here, namely that continuing the evacuations even while he’s stuck without Penny leaves him wide open to a Salem attack, the death of everyone currently safe, but that argument is never presented to the viewer. I don’t need people to agree with Ironwood’s perspective, I just wish that perspective was offered as an option. The show is very good about acting like RWBYJNOR’s opinion is the only justified opinion, or simply the only opinion at all.

After everything is laid out Weiss goes, “We’re never going to sleep again, I just know it.”

I could make a crack about the lack of continuity and how the group should be collapsing right now… but that was a funny line. It can stay.

What is far more of a problem is the fact that no one is talking about Salem. Okay, that’s a lie. They do talk about her, but in a roundabout way like her presence isn’t impacting every decision they make. That’s the real issue. They’re acting as if Salem isn’t here right now, like she’s off far away, maybe approaching slowly, and they’re arguing over how best to prep the world for her eventual attack. There’s no emotion here—let alone action—to reflect that the series’ Big Bad has arrived and is poised to murder them all. Literally what is this? Ruby is yelling about warning the world and, ignoring the continued question of why that’s a good thing when the world can do nothing to stop Salem and knowledge of her continually drives people to horrible acts, she has yet to acknowledge that… she’s the world? Ruby is the world in this conflict. She, Mantle, and Atlas. Salem is here for you all. Right now. You are, this instant, in the situation you want to warn others about, so why don’t you try to do something about it? Or at least acknowledge it. Ruby wants to warn the neighborhood about a potential fire while her house is actively ablaze, and the fire could have totally killed her by now but decided not to for… reasons.

“Ruby’s right,” Nora says. They have to tell the world so “they can prepare.” How? How are they supposed to prepare for this? The story cannot continue ignoring Salem’s immortality.

“Ruby’s right,” is all Blake says and I’m starting to thinks that’s why her character exists now, to agree with Ruby. It’s great that she’s getting a little distance from Yang, but man.

As Ruby asks whether Pietro can get Amity up and running despite it not being finished (called it) we start an incredibly odd sequence of flashforwards to their individual missions. I’ve seen a lot of praise for this already and though I agree that, in theory, it’s a good way to save time, I found the actual execution to be jarring. Upon thinking back through our timeline, it became clear they were flashforwards, but while watching I thought they might be flashbacks (especially since that’s more common).

Some of the shots, like Nora’s, just look awkward when you’ve got the exact expression and pose transplanted from one scene to another, like she’s a cardboard cutout behind a green screen. To say nothing of how the flashforwards ruin any suspense (I use that word loosely) in the conversation itself. If the question is, “Will they decide to go to the military compound?” then that question is answered when we see Ruby scoping out the compound, not when the group actually decides on the course of action.

It just made an already muddled scene worse for me, so I hope this trend doesn’t continue.

And of course, Amity can be used despite all the info last volume claiming that it wasn’t finished. Pietro suddenly acts like it is finished and the only thing standing in their way is Ironwood providing access. If that were the case, he would have used Amity weeks or days ago like he wanted to! When was it finished? Not after Watts commented on how incomplete it was. When did they get back the resources they needed from Robyn? It’s as ridiculous and retcon-y as I thought it would be.

Yang points out that Ironwood will never listen to them and Ruby counters that “he doesn’t have to.” They’ll just take the access from him. Because why wouldn’t they in a series where they’ve already stolen two airships? Stealing from the super evil military that Joanna wishes were helping them right now is just the group’s go-to plan nowadays.

Pietro isn’t sold on this plan though. He lists at least three obstacles they’d need to get through “and then… oh boy, I might need to think about this some more.” “And just to clarify,” Oscar says, “This is the easy option?” Um...no it’s not? We also know there’s an access point in Ironwood’s office so… why not go there instead? They really think the Academy is less guarded than the military base? There’s a potential justification here along the lines of, “After Neo and Cinder broke into his office Ironwood will have the place on high alert,” but unless I missed it the group doesn’t assume anything like that. They just listen to Pietro point out all the ways they can’t get into the military base and jump straight to that being the best option. It feels like a transparent way to create conflict for the group. We’ll just have them taking the most dangerous route despite an easy route being offered alongside it. Why bother mentioning his office at all? Just have the access in the military base. Boom, done.

It’s that conflict and the fact that Ruby tends to hear “You can’t” and digs in her heels. You can’t go to Atlas. I’ll just steal a ship then. You can’t defeat Salem. Watch me. You can’t break into this base. Guess what I’m doing! She’s dangerous in her fairy tale, meta-driven insistence that everything will turn out her way because she wants it to.

Speaking of, we finally—FINALLY—get someone challenging Ruby. Sort of. Not actually but it’s the closest we’ve ever gotten:

Yang: “Ruby, when we came here we said we’d follow your lead… but things haven’t exactly worked out.”

Now, there are two things to take away from this moment. The first is how utterly shocked Ruby and the others are. I mean, take a look at these expressions.

Ruby straight up can’t believe what she’s hearing. Weiss put her hand to her mouth like this is the most dramatic thing to ever happen to her. Oscar looks down in a ‘Yeah, I agree but please don’t look at me and make me admit that’ way. And Nora looks indifferent in the screenshot but animated she goes sort of stern, likely pissed that Yang would dare say that given her own agreement with Ruby. This not only reiterates that Yang’s challenge came out of nowhere—seriously, how did we move from following Ruby no matter what to this? Last volume she asked a single question along the lines of, ‘You sure?’ and when Ruby said ‘Yes’ Yang was entirely on board—but also demonstrates that no one has EVER said no to her before. Ruby is amazed that someone would challenge her. The act of challenging Ruby is, in and of itself, shocking. This group has gotten so used to following Ruby blindly that the teensiest little pushback is greeted with this.

Because it is teensy. This is the second takeaway: Yang barely challenges her and that challenge leads nowhere. She doesn’t accuse Ruby of anything, she doesn’t question her continued authority, she just broadly implies that things could be better. We followed you, now things are bad, take from that what you will. It’s incredibly mild as far as criticism goes, making the shock all the more, well, shocking, but it also amounts to—wait for it—nothing! Because Yang didn’t truly challenge Ruby’s leadership. She’s still in charge, she’s still calling the shots, and they’re still listening to her. We might have gotten some change if this division had been allowed to play out, but instead Jaune comes in with a, “Let’s go for both!” solution. It let’s both groups get what they want which, in turn, releases them from the need to grapple with whether they’ll listen to Ruby when she’s advocating for something they don’t agree with. We have now lost the chance to see whether, when push comes to shove, Ren and Yang will cave to Ruby’s will or stick by their own beliefs.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s more conflict than we’ve gotten in years, but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly compelling conflict. It’s good by RWBY’s standards, which doesn’t necessarily make it good. The actual issues at hand—Ruby’s dangerous arrogance, the group’s loyalty, her choices up until now—are just swept under the rug. For all the visuals we get insisting that there’s this great divide in the group… there’s really not. Not in any way that matters.

Also, Ruby is an idiot. Okay, that was mean, but she really is in this scene. She’s actually not an idiot overall because she was written as wonderfully intelligent in the early volumes, but now? Lately? She makes me want to bang my head against a wall.

“But that’s how Salem got this far,” she cries. “By dividing us!”

Ruby… oh my god, Ruby. No one should have to explain to you that dividing people means turning them against each other, not literally dividing your team to complete separate tasks. This girl honestly thought that because there was this teensy disagreement and that half the team would complete Plan A while she and the other half completed Plan B, both of which notably work towards the goal of, “Protect people from Salem,” that this was somehow what Salem wanted. That is was dangerous. Honestly, it’s a scary look at her view of leadership too: If everyone doesn’t 100% agree with me and do what I say, that’s an objectively bad thing that the grimm queen wants, right? Does Ruby think that unification means following a single person (her) without question or variation? That would explain a lot...

The fact that Oscar needs to explain the difference to her is not good. It really doesn’t say great things about this version of Ruby. Though he was comparing Ironwood to Salem last volume, so really they should all be wearing dunce hats.

Penny offers to take the relic directly to Salem in exchange for her leaving the kingdom alone. I honestly didn’t expect that. If anyone took that risk I would have put my money on Ozpin (but of course, during all this talk of the women he knows best, he’s kept quiet). Oscar is again the voice of wisdom, pointing out that they have no reassurance that Salem will keep her word. At least Penny is thinking about Salem as a threat though, so kudos for that. When this plan is shot down she volunteers to get Ruby past the military security instead and, uh, she’s a little intense about it.

I’m not entirely sure what is going on with Penny. She disagreed with Winter but then seemed to come around to her point of view, enough to help anyway. They had another (stupid) disagreement about the value of individual lives, so that helps to explain why she’s teaming up with RWBYJNOR (if you ignore that Ironwood is also trying to save individual lives...). Did watching Fria die shake her up? Is it being the Winter Maiden that’s not sitting right? Does Penny have lingering feelings about the framing that haven’t shown up until now? Her status as a ‘real girl’? We’ve got a lot of reasons that could definitely explain this sudden need to fight, but we’re not told which—if any of these—is the driving force.

We’re then given a lot of little details. Someone points out that if Salem gets the staff and “create[s] anything else” then Atlas will fall (so yeah, let’s move the people underneath it). We still don’t know what exactly the Staff does because “creation” is kind of broad and “powering a city to float” doesn’t seem to sit within that category at all. Pietro gives Yang the keys to his lab so they can get the bikes. We see the group dividing in the flashforwards, something I do like, especially since the show has gone out of its way to break up most of the usual duos. Nora in particular is pissed at Ren for his choice.

“Oh, I’m saving Mantle because I actually believe we can do this.”

#yikes. Well, I did say I wanted a conflict other than ‘Oh no, one of us might die’ and it looks like I got it. But Nora, the only reason you can do this is because the plot is in your corner: none of you are collapsing from two major fights, you didn’t lose your aura so the cold isn’t a danger, the military is barely a threat all of a sudden, Salem is helpfully hanging out in her whale instead of killing you, and the story decided that Amity can function so long as you all are the ones who get to use it. That’s why you can do this. Ren, who follows in-world logic and doesn’t want to risk a whole kingdom’s worth of lives on a pipe dream, thinks differently, oddly enough.

As they leave though Penny gets a call from Ironwood. I know precisely what the fandom is going to say here: “This evil man is just trying to use Penny to open the vault!” Of course he is. He needs it open to save everyone he can, Penny included. Plus the concept of “using” her is a double-edged sword. What do we think the group is doing right now? Using her to get past the security. Penny’s power is a tool any way you slice it. Granted, Penny volunteers to help the group, but notably here Ruby speaks for her. Penny seems torn and Ruby takes the scroll away with, “She’s not going anywhere until you change your mind about Mantle.”

Sorry, Ruby, but coming from you that sounds less like a reassurance for Penny and more like just an order for Ironwood. Remember Harriet? We’ll stop attacking you provided you do what we want. Ruby has yet to learn about compromises, let alone acknowledge that she might be wrong. How about you let Penny decide where she goes, especially since by all logic she should have a lot of loyalty to Ironwood. She knew him before she ever met you. She’s worked with him since she was rebuild post-Volume 3. Despite what Penny has said, if the story would just let her think about his actions for a hot second—making her the protector of Mantle, sticking up for her after the framing, sending her to the party, teaming her up with Ruby, etc.—she might realize that the ‘He doesn’t want me to have friends’ and ‘He just treats me like a tool’ assumptions are just that, unfounded assumptions. But no, Ruby speaks for them both because Ironwood is evil now.

“If she makes it through our defenses,” Ironwood says, “everything that follows will be on your hands.”

That’s true! Kind of like how it’s own Qrow’s hands that Clover died. When you insist on making a bad situation worse you hold responsibility when the shit hits the fan. You know though that Salem won’t get through their defenses now, somehow, so that there’s no chance RWBYJNOR will be blamed for it. Or, by that point Ironwood will be so crazed that anything coming out of his mouth is dismissed, no matter how accurate it might be.

We then transfer to the Ace Ops who are, despite what the fandom theorized for many months, clearly upset about Clover. Also pissed. Which they have every right to be. Their friend and leader was killed. Imagine for a moment that Ruby had been murdered by Tyrian with an allies’ help. Exactly what do you think the group would do? Swallow it quietly and get over it? Ha.

I’ve already seen some speculation that Clover survived due to details like showing us the bandage and his room being listed as for a “Patient,” but he looks pretty dead to me.

He got gutted through the chest and left out in the snow for who knows how long. We saw him slip away. Qrow screamed over his dead body. He’s not breathing now. If RWBY suddenly claims he survived this, I’m calling BS.

Most of the other visuals we get here were already dropped in the trailer. Winter is pretty injured from her encounter with Cinder, likely permanently based on her new outfit. Ironwood had to replace his arm—and I am calling BS on that “Losing his arm is reflective of him losing his humanity” commentary from RT. Please go read up on a couple decades worth of ableism in media and then get back to me.

We get Ironwood’s line about the light shields and, notably, a whole lot of empathy. Regardless of what he might want Penny for, he still called her with compassion. He’s watching the Ace Ops mourn their friend. He’s talking about protecting his kingdom. The first thing he says to Winter is, “Thank you, Winter. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Ironwood has a heart! It’s always on display, which makes this scene utterly ridiculous.

I literally don’t know how to respond to this. The gunshot made me jump, both because it’s a gunshot and because, again, what the fuck? I know I said that next volume RT might just have Ironwood descend into full villainy, shooting whoever he pleases now that he’s shot Oscar, but I didn’t actually expect them to do it. Because he never should have shot Oscar in the first place! I wanted the story to let Oscar grapple with it a bit and then quietly backtrack, acknowledging it as the mistake it was. The concept that Ironwood, empathetic Ironwood, rational Ironwood, always thinks before he acts Ironwood, let’s kids yell at him Ironwood, tried to team up with Robyn Ironwood, did everything Ruby wanted Ironwood, won’t kill Watts after he destroyed his arm Ironwood would shoot this guy just to shut him up is absurd. It was absurd then, it’s absurd now.

That being said, there’s a possibility he didn’t actually shoot the council member, but rather just (“just”) gave a warning shot down the hallway. I say this because the reactions to this are pretty tame. Everyone looks startled, yeah, but after the initial shot there’s nothing that I would expect if there was now a guy bleeding out on the floor. The council woman doesn’t scream. Winter doesn’t seem overly shocked. No one is running to try and help him. Basically, if Ironwood had just killed a political figure in front of six witnesses, entirely unprovoked, I would expect a bit more of a reaction than this. This feels far more like a, “Damn he’s not joking around, letting off warning shots to get people to leave him alone” not “WOW, our general just killed someone in cold blood!”

What I really hate though—beyond just assassinating his character—is how many fans think my friends and I are delusional for calling it character assassination at all. I hopped onto the RWBY tag for five minutes this morning and was bombarded with posts about how Ironwood needs to be murdered horrifically, anyone who likes him is sick, the Ironwood stans are as bad as Adam stans, you’re an idiot if you want him redeemed… because apparently the concept of a story writing a character badly doesn’t compute. I’m not here to argue that Ironwood didn’t do these awful things (regardless of whether he actually killed the guy or not). I’m not here to argue that they’re not awful. I’m just here to say that we never should have gotten these scenes in the first place, or if we were going to get them, we deserved an actual descent into murder at the drop of a hat territory. I’ve already explained extensively on this blog how early Ironwood was not accurate foreshadowing for this, and Volume 7 certainly wasn’t setup, but it looks like the majority of fans aren’t interested in examining whether any of this adds up. Which makes my job, as someone trying to examine this series somewhat objectively—in as much as that’s possible for any single viewer—as well as simply enjoy it as a show, really hard. It’s bad enough when a story keeps taking the characters you love and villainizing them, and doing that badly, but then when you turn to the community and see them rallying around the idea that you’re awful for being dissatisfied—you’re the bootlicker, you’re the blind stan, you can’t see what’s ‘really’ going on here… that sucks. For those of you happy and satisfied with Ironwood’s arc, that’s great! I’ve also seen a lot of posts hyping up the complexity of his character now. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what we’ve been given and I’d never want to imply that just because it’s not what I wanted it’s somehow wrong. I’m honestly thrilled that after a year of worry so many people have adored our premiere, including this scene. I just wish that I could say RWBY had given me something I didn’t want in a persuasive manner and that the fandom as a whole was a bit more welcoming of differing criticisms.

Not that I didn’t already know the RWBY fandom had its flaws, but still lol.

That’s basically it for our premiere. Nice note to end on, huh? Our final scene is of Salem using the lamp to set her bloodhound grimm on the city. Why doesn’t she just go herself? What was she planning to do here in Atlas in the first place, considering that getting the relic was a surprise? Who knows. Little about this holds together. But we do end with another awesome shot, so small favors.

It’s always strange concluding a recap, but even more-so when it’s a premiere, during a historical moment in the U.S., amidst all the nonsense that is 2020. So for now I’ll just conclude with three quick things:

The updated bingo board will be listed at the end of each recap, provided I don’t forget about it lol. Today I’m checking off tone (not nearly enough freaking out about Salem), the team keeping secrets (Oscar), and major plot point dropped (Amity is suddenly finished). I could also probably check off the cold not killing civilians and getting Amity up and running, but we’ll see if any changes with those.

I’m including my Ko-Fi link at the end of recaps now. Not with any expectations. Not with anything resembling pressure. I thought long and hard over whether to include it at all—let alone mention it here—because I love doing these and never want anyone to feel like it comes with strings attached. But life is a little harder and weirder than it was last year, so I figure it can’t hurt. Feel free to pass on by and I won’t be bringing it up past this note.

Far more importantly: thank you for reading! :D

(Bonus 4. Editing this was an absolute nightmare — damn you, tumblr! — so I apologize if anything is super wonky when I finally post.)

See you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps

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jjkpls · 4 years

Text

crayons ‘net’ (finale) (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

Time heals every wound.

Even the deepest, bloodiest ones, alike the ones inflicted to the ego.

It felt like you wouldn’t ever get over how embarrassed you'd felt but you did, to a certain degree, get over it. The fact that Mr Kim didn’t appear before you for a few weeks helped a little, and the one that Jimmy was doing great -way better than you had expected, somehow, after overcoming the very first difficult step, he’s been able to improve profusely, consistently- helped immensely.

You felt like you've done your part regarding him and his overall situation at home. You helped as you could, you pushed the buttons just waiting to be pushed, needing that little extra help, and on his own, progressively, Jimmy’s found himself influenced by his environment and naturally, has been learning to adapt to it.

You shouldn’t interfere anymore is what you keep telling yourself. But for the past week and a half, after the class has been long dismissed, you've been seeing his little backpack, with the two bear ears decorating the top, skimming through the hallway as Jimmy's little legs shuffle to keep up with Adrianne‘s energetic walk. If you don’t see them, you hear them, or more accurately you hear her, talking to him, or mostly to herself, out loud as she furnishes the quietness of the corridors after all the children have left.

The curiosity is eating you alive. You resist for as long as you can until you break, grabbing your mug in one hand and your dustbin in the other, not sure which one is a better excuse to be bursting in her way, and you catch them exiting one of the adjacent classrooms. Adrianne seems shocked, startles, and you mimic her as well as you can, feigning a coincidence.

“What are you doing with this? You know I was going to take care of it.”

“Oh, you know...” And you see that she doesn’t know but you don’t either and you have no idea what to add. Therefore simply you drop the subject altogether and start with what you're interested in. “Jimmy, why are you still here?” You ask kindly, tending a finger forward to swipe back one of his lock falling on his face. He doesn’t flinch nor winces at the gesture. You internally smile. Only half committed to answering, he looks back at you simply shrugging, pouty mouth twisting a bit.

“His daddy is always late. I think they don’t have a nanny anymore.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Hm. So little Jimmy keeps me company while I clean the rooms. I have to do the rooms, even if it can't be too fun for a little boy. Is it fun, Jimmy?”

And Jimmy nods, quite eagerly even though he can’t possibly be sincere. Especially given the fact that if Adrienne is a lovely respectable woman that you appreciate dearly, you can’t deny that her boisterous voice with her tendency to go on and on no matter the lack of encouragement from the other end, can’t be too pleasing, especially after a full day of working the brain. You're guilty of sometimes closing your door when you stay late in your class to quiet down her ranting to herself as she goes from room to room to tidy up.

“Do you want to leave him with me? It’d be more convenient for you.” You're not exactly sure what motivates you as you suggest it. You can tell, from the line her eyebrows are drawing, that even if she won’t express it in front of him, having to watch over him and take him along on her route is not the most practical, definitely must make her waste time and efficiency. Still, you're not even sure why you propose to relieve her.

You just like the kid, you suppose.

You ask yourself the question, actively, as Jimmy and you silently stroll back to your classroom. It’s only when you take a seat, him at his desk and you at yours, that you see the pile of today's writing exercises the kids submitted to you that an idea occurs.

You're not sure of the ways your brain works. It seems to be working backwards recently.

You decide you could teach him. Jimmy, if he’s not lost behind his other classmates, is still lacking a bit. Having started life in a whole different culture, being suddenly thrown in this new one, having to learn a new language on top of another drastically different one, while being lost in a sea of other children, the same age as him, but somehow way ahead of him, all of this is, you suspect, one of the main reasons why he doesn’t like to participate. His father had a point on that. And you want to give him the tools, the confidence to simply try.

But it’s not like you can work over basis the other children mastered subconsciously, effortlessly, already long ago the few years of their lives.

Here comes an opportunity though. Late afternoon classes, while waiting for his dad, assuming his schedule will keep allowing you the time.

“Thanks a lot. I’m sorry again, I’ve had a little issue with the lady who took care of him and-“

“It’s fine. Don’t apologise. Have a nice evening. I see you tomorrow Jimmy?”

You're all smiles and soft words but you don’t give Mr Kim much attention. Not meeting his eyes, facing towards Jimmy instead of him. You're not being petty. It’s simply the warmth who started spreading along your neck and cheeks as soon as you heard the opening of the main hall door from the distance, highly uncomfortable and impossible to ignore. You thought you were over it but clearly, you were wrong. Not seeing him directly for those few weeks of resting was entirely misleading.

He is now standing in front of you and you have this awful feeling again, the one that’s making you feel like you regret every single life choice ever made by your own stupid self, any swipe of a butterfly’s wings that led to this moment.

You're effective though. Not wasting any spare moment, as gently as possible, yet firmly, you intimate their way out.

This is how it goes.

Somehow he allows it to happen. From his stalling around, the way his lips open slightly full of intention but nothing ever coming out, he means to say something. He feels the awkwardness, the tension. He perhaps wishes to diffuse it but as polite and agreeable as you naturally show yourself to be, you're able to show yourself cold and distant.

You've given up on this anyway.

You don't know what this is, precisely. And you do not care to figure it out. You know it's not something reasonable, something you want to spend time thinking about. It's something that won't lead you anywhere, it's something that had never started yet made you do dumb craps and feel awful. So, screw this.

Carefully, meticulously, you apply the same routine to every single day. Mr Kim's schedule does happen to allow those extra courses. For a while, it's simply how it goes.

Until embarrassment -this bitchy disease- seems to grow on his side. You're not sure where it comes from, maybe he misinterprets your attitude, take it too personally. In any case, he grows weary of the time and energy he seems to believe he's making you waste on them.

He starts arriving, forehead soaked from how hard he runs to get to the school not too late. Sometimes he manages to be right on time and Jimmy doesn't even get to come back to you, escorted by Adrienne, for a quick reading of a short story or a low, very discreet recitation of a short poetry you've learned together before. In those cases, you're annoyed, and so is Jimmy -you can tell, from the puff of his cheeks and even sometimes, from the way he refuses to raise his eyes from whatever you're working on, purposefully ignoring the loudness of his dad appearing before you two, not ready as he is to go home yet.

Therefore, naturally, you have to talk to him.

It's not a pleasant thought. You're not enthused at the idea, you don't even know what to tell him incisively but you know, you have to talk to him.

It's all ridiculous. Jimmy has made progress even you didn't imagine possible. He's almost good to go and expend his freedom born from a tiny, shy but very much existing newfound confidence. But you like your late afternoon classes. And you know he does too. Also, he doesn't have much interaction with anyone besides his father. From what the later told you, even talking with his cousins is a challenge he struggles to submit himself to.

And there's his mom, gone, never to come back. Your heart aches each time you think about it. It's not your place, you have to remind yourself constantly. Yet, you can't help it. Because somehow maybe it is. You're not sure what that place is but maybe there's one for you. One that is a strange, coincidental, sort of fated little space for you to fill, for a little while, that will mark him enough to help him through this awful test Life had for him and possibly, even, later on in life.

Life is strange. It's filled with curious encounters with strangers that leave a trace within you, that you'll carry forever. They can hurt and engrave a nasty scar that'll affect you forever or the opposite, they can help heal, help bloom hope, inspire friendship and love and benevolence.

Somehow, even throughout your constant reminding yourself that you should not get too involved, you should not care so much as to let it affect your everyday life and state of mind and emotions, you've done exactly that. You don't exactly regret it.

It's a thing, so stupid and useless, that makes it feel like you regret it.

Because now, you have to talk to his dad and explain to him, fully, with sentences and blanks for him to answer and probably looks to spare his way for polite measures, what you've been doing and how it's more than fine that he's late after the classes end because it allows you time to spend together and work on a lot of different essential things.

"You had something to say to me?"

God. You don't want to talk to him.

You've been dreading this moment so hard for the past week that your steeping anxiety turned into deep aggravation and you can't stand looking at him. Just seeing him makes you angry.

"Mr Kim, I've told you multiple times before not to worry when you're late." He frowns a little, looking back at your severe gaze, confused. He nods slowly, not saying anything, and you assume it's because he isn't really in capacity of speaking right now. Not when his breath is so ragged and his brain probably dizzy from the race he submitted himself to from his office. "Yet you keep running in my class every day, all dishevelled and- and all-"

"But. But I shouldn't bother you-"

"Mr Kim. You are bothering me by not listening. What I've tried to tell you is that Jimmy and I can take advantage of your schedule.” Deep breathing in and out to calm down and slow the high ladder your voice naturally wants to climb, and you start again, only slightly less on edge. “If you're late, we can work on things we can't do during the day with his classmates. Haven't you noticed his improvements?"

"I- I did but-"

"But what?" You're plain rude. Arms crossed tight on your chest, eyebrows low above your eyes, sighing and almost tapping your foot on the floor. You look like a cartoonish version of an angry teacher. In other words, you look ridiculous. It's not justified whatsoever. Or more like, the reasons you're so mad are ridiculous and absolutely not related to his being thoughtful of the time he might be stealing from you by letting you, sort of, babysit his kid after your official work hours. You'll be embarrassed by it later.

He's cartoonish too. With his helpless "but-" and sheepish looks. Until he's not anymore. He has the shadow of a grin creeping on one corner of his lips.

"Feels like you're scolding me, Miss ___." He bites back a smile. His forehead has softened out, his gaze gentler and calmer, he doesn't seem to take personally your attack. Which he should but whatever. It's even more annoying because smiles look really nice on him and it's hard to stay as mad as you'd been when the dimples coupled with them are hinting their way on his honey cheeks.

"Precisely. I wouldn't have to if you'd just do what I'm asking of you." He beams blatantly now, having decided that somehow you're not mad anymore. As you said, staying angry when the softest looking dimples you've ever seen on anyone dig their way in his cheeks is an impossible task. And Your frown progressively turns into a barely upset pout.

A ridiculous, childish pout of a stupid child who's upset about being teased and flustered.

"You really like your students that much?" He asks, tone sweeter, not in a rush to obtain an answer. You're thankful for it because you wouldn't know how to express how you feel.

You do like your students “that much”. You like people. You want the best for them and you know how those couple of first years living in the world, experiencing it and its beings populating it are determining. You're not too crazy about all of them because some, unfortunately, have already been rubbed with distasteful attitudes by distasteful parents. But for the most part, you do love them a whole lot.

Also, you really like Jimmy Kim, for some reasons. He just directly affects your heartstrings and you simply can not help it. If you just wish the best for anyone, and especially for your students, for Jimmy, you wish even more. You wish only happy days and wonderful experiences and people. Maybe it's the sadness you read for months since you first met him in your class, reinforced by the newly glint of joy and excitement you've been catching recently.

It's all very abstract and confusing and hardly decipherable. So much so that simply trying to figure out your emotions, to convey them into an answer for him, you feel yourself getting emotional. You think he even notices. Therefore, simply, you settle for not much,

"Jimmy is a really sweet kid."

"I'm grateful for you noticing it." Mr Kim starts before taking a deep breath. "I just feel like you're too nice to us. I don't know if- I mean, maybe that's what you do for every family and if it's the case, it's- it's wonderful, very kind of you. But- I mean, don't you, I don't know, you must have your life to get back to. After work, even if I like my job, all I want is leave and you know, get back to my life."

"My job is my life, Mr Kim. I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to."

"It can't be all of it. You- you must- I don't know, want to go home to your boyfriend and go out with your friends and unwind and do fun things and I'm just trapping you here to care for-" You're ticking at that. Bold of him to assume that you have a boyfriend. Fortunately for you, you've learned from your mistakes and you know better, this time, than to correct him. You're not falling into that trap again.

"Mr Kim-"

"Namjoon." You raise an eyebrow, searching your brain for an explanation you missed. "My name. Sorry. You keep calling me Mr Kim and it feels weird."

"I-" It takes you a second to compose yourself. The firepit of rage has a little blaze threatening to bring the whole back to life and consume your whole gut. "Listen. You expressed your concerns. I listened to them. From that, I said that not only did I not mind, I wanted to take this opportunity. So now, the reasonable thing to do is to simply accept what I said. I'm not deceiving you but even if I were, it's my problem, you don't have to worry anymore, do you understand?" How can someone so concerned about making you waste your time can also waste it so expertly and your energy and sanity along with it? He, Namjoon, just stares for a second. His eyes then fall upon his son, a couple of meters away. You're both standing in the hallway while the boy sits patiently at his table, in the back, far enough for him not to hear a simple conversation but given your tendency to heat up for no proper reasons, you're worried he catches bits of the friction. He seems pretty engrossed in the book he's looking at though.

You observe his dad, watching over him, frowning. "Except if you have a problem with me." As on a reflex, his head spins around for his wide eyes to face you. "You do, don't you? You have a problem with me and that's why you're being so difficult!" He gasps, looking awfully offended but you can't even trust it. It'd make way more sense. It's all making sense. "Well, fine, but just say it then, instead of-"

"I don't have a problem with you!"

"Yes, you do. It's obvious. I don't even know how I haven't noticed before..."

"I don't have a problem with you, Miss ___!" Jimmy has definitely noticed now. He's watching you from his seat, four rows away. Curiously, he doesn't seem too fazed. He seems intrigued by the noise but not that concerned. "You're doing so much for us and I feel burdened because I want to give back to you but there's no way- I don't- nothing seems appropriate and I don't know what to do."

"You don't owe me anything, Mr Kim."

"I want to. Can't you be reasonable and accept that?" On his side, the fury has diminished, only a fading shadow remains, colouring his words into something more animated than his usual way of talking. "I really like you, I don't have a problem with you. I'm so thankful for you just entering our lives, sincerely. I'm sorry if I gave a wrong impression." Here comes the awkward tingle that has no right to be appearing. You have to chastise yourself, to rationalize, loud and clear to your delusional all-over-the-place heart, that his thoughts got lost and distorted by translation. He can't mean what he said no matter how much, apparently, your heart would like it.

"Well, ok, then." It's lame. Not very eloquent, pretty self-reflecting. But this man is a rollercoaster. It's hard to adapt and honestly, it's a miracle he hasn't thrown you out of the circuit. You don't know how to react. How to come back down from your suspicious accusations, from your childish outburst, from your giddy excitement at the words he didn't really mean the way you heard them.

That will do anyway. Deciding that most of your issue has been settled and that probably, by continuing this conversation, you're taking the risk to lose it again and possibly traumatized innocent Jimmy this time, you conclude, on a common agreement, the impromptu meeting. Mr Kim goes to help Jimmy pack up his stuff and slip his vest on.

They express goodbye to you, Jimmy waving quickly a hand half-hidden by his sleeve, Mr Kim nodding his head, lips tight as if not meaning to take the risk of saying something wrong.

"Have a nice weekend. See you on Monday, Jimmy."

Then Mr Kim stops in his track, his son bumping into his leg and almost falling to the ground if it were not for the strong grip keeping him upward by the hand. They were just about to reach the entry doors, a few steps away only from them. Mr Kim crouches to his son's height, says something to him, one of his hand cupping the side of his face, fingers brushing his cheek before he stands up, trotting quickly to you, still standing in the doorway of your classroom.

"Miss ___." He's slightly out of breath, weirdly enough for a man who keeps in shape, at least, with the daily runs he makes from his work to his son's school.

"Do you like running that much?" He smiles a bright, wide grin that makes your heart skips a bit.

"I don't actually." He stops and throws a look over his shoulder, towards his son. "There's something I meant to ask but as I said, I feel it might be too inappropriate."

"Ask away."

"If it is, please just say so and ignore me and let's just pretend I've never said anything, ok?"

"Fine. Ask your scandalous question." He looks boyish for a second. Swallowing hard, Adam's apple bobbing obnoxiously along his throat, glancing one more time to Jimmy before he finally gets to it.

"Would you allow me to treat you to a restaurant some time?" You can't deny it, the flutter from earlier is back, stronger than ever. You're so enchanted, feeling tickly all over, like a fucking fifteen-year-old being asked on a date for the first time. It's absurd. Because you're not even sure that's what he means, again. This time, even if you're frustrated and flustered and you want to get mad at him for putting you through this, you can't because the unfamous butterflies are too excited, celebrating the sudden blooming of a garden full of flowers in the pit of your stomach.

"Like a... 'thanks for being the best teacher for my kid' type of diner?"

"Maybe." He has a pout on his mouth his teeth bite on. His eyes are smiling at the corner, but they hold a sheepish hesitation. You don't know if you can trust your perception. He does look like you imagine yourself to look like right now. You wonder if he feels the same way too. Or if, once again, you're imagining a lot of things that are not there.

"Ok. With great pleasure."

You're a coward. You know that. But it's ok, you decide. Because if it turns out to be a date, surely you'll figure it out, won't you?

There's a little stalling moment. A short instant where eyes discuss silently. They're better at speaking then your mouths are. Not arguing, meeting somewhere they understand each other and you have an evident sense of comfort there you're scared to lean in, but that screams at you that there's something very soft and gentle and deeper than simple politeness floating around. He nods, smiling to you or to himself, until he waves you goodbye, quite alike Jimmy did earlier and then he's trotting again, this time back to his son.

It feels like you're walking on some sort of stilts, jumpy, giddy, too excited to just saunter back in your classroom. On your table there's a drawing you've never seen before, sitting next to the neat pile of your documents. It's an adorable, colourful illustration of a girl. With the blue hair and the purple eyes, you hesitate for a second, but after further observation -the similar dress and hairstyle help- you conclude it's a portrait of you. A lovely portrait of you Jimmy has made, while his father and you discussed, that he left on your desk for you to find.

A/N: what an abrupt ending lmao; sorry i couldn’t figure something better out. I really hope you liked it, thank you SO MUCH for reading :) kisses & hugz

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #thekimlinenet #bts fluff #bts angst #bts drabble #bts scenario #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon drabble #namjoon scenario #my writing

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inscribed-in-asteroids · 4 years

Text

AN: Here’s chapter two!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features original characters

Pairing: Entrapdak, features other canon couples (and some fanon)

Rating: M

Read on AO3. It’s always posted there first.

Evaluation

“You want us to help you… find your dad’s… home planet?” Hydrangea questions.

“Not necessarily that,” Odessa replies. “I’ve been mulling over this the last couple of years. Wandering through space, it’s apparent that my father’s species has predominantly settled into Etherian life. But when I ask my father where we are from, he has no answer.”

“Not in the withholding information way,” Tristan clarifies.

“Exactly. In the sense he has no answer to give. Period. I’ve discussed it with my mother, and she believes it could be an exciting chance to find out where he’s from!” Odessa claps her hands together. “We know about the biology, physiology, mental health, behavior of one person. My father has been studied thoroughly for years, but his makeup can only tell us so much.”

They nod in understanding. It does make sense. He has been genetically manufactured over and over, thousands of versions of him co-existing among species that still have yet to see anything like him before. Hordak has lived among Etherians, has explored world upon world, but they know he is an anomaly. They all do.

Odessa looks down at her hands, an anomaly herself. Her parents have always been supportive of her intellectual pursuits, and this could very well be one of the greatest. She has filled a medical textbook composed of both Entrapta’s research, Hordak’s explanations, and her own observations, theories and notes about how his species operates. But what good is it if it simply applies to a single individual; that’s not applicable to how science or medical practice works.

Hydrangea pours them tea. She knows how determined Odessa can be once she sets her mind to something. There’s no stopping her once her brain gains traction on an idea. Tristan’s set face comprehends this as well.

Tristan speaks first, “When would you like us to begin?”

Odessa smirks, “Soon as you’re done with your drink.”

“Hm, of course you’d say that.”

“Damn right,” Odessa answers.

Hydrangea places her hands on her hips, “Alright, Des. We’ll get going soon as we’re done!”

“Or you could chug your chamomile in one go.”

“No.”

Dryl is etched further into rocky cliffs, its labyrinth excavated deep inside the mountain. Its residents welcome their princess, happy to see her return. Entrapta’s kingdom had been left to its own devices for years, even prior to Entrapta’s departure; yet they view Odessa as the rightful heir, and treat her as such. She supposes it's something to be grateful for, as it does leave them with a place to rest and organize without much interference.

Though she could do without the large paintings of herself lining the walls.

“I never get over how cute you were as a baby,” Hydrangea says, giggling. “Look how chubby you were!”

“You were so adorable,” Tristan gushes. “So innocent.”

“The sweetest little baby,” she continues. “I still want to pinch your itty bitty face!”

“Shut up,” Odessa pouts, blushing. Curse these portraits… and curse their laughter...

“Odessa! Hello, hello!”

Relieved, she turns, smiling at the friendly face, “Hi, Uncle Wrong-Man.”

Crushing her to his chest, he presses their cheeks together, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen my most favorite niece in the world!”

“You’re going to make all the other nieces jealous,” she says. Then smiles, “But it’s true.”

“I can’t help it, you were the first niece I had!”

Back on her feet, Odessa glances at the vicinity. Normally, there’s more of her uncles wandering through the halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re working outside or in the kitchens. We heard you were back and we felt a welcoming party would be fun!”

“You don’t have to throw one every time we come back.”

His eyes turn watery, a sad, morose frown on his features, “Oh… I see… You don’t… like my parties anymore…”

“No, no, that’s not it!” Odessa says, trying to cheer him back up. “I just meant you don’t need to go through all the trouble each visit.”

He looks up at her, ears drooping lower, “Do you like them?”

“Yes, Uncle Wrong-Man, I love your parties,” she insists. “You’re the best at it!”

In seconds, his bubbly personality returns, “Excellent! I look forward to giving you another party suited to your tastes!”

Tristan leans toward Odessa, hand held up to his mouth, “Wow, for a minute I thought I heard violins.”

“He has that dramatic flair to him,” she agrees.

“How have your parents been? I haven’t seen them yet!” W.H. asks.

“Mom and Dad are fine,” Odessa tells him, following him through the halls. The maze has been modified to be easier to map out. The first time she had come here, they had gotten lost since Entrapta couldn’t quite recall where all the secret entrances were. Odessa took it upon herself to make her own layout, and added to it whenever a change had been made. “They went to Beast Island to see how it is there.”

His ears fall for a moment, “Aw, I hope they’ll visit soon!”

“I’m sure they will,” she assures him. “They had some business to conduct over there.”

“In the meantime, what brings you to Dryl?”

“I wanted to talk to you and some of the others regarding your past,” she explains.

W.H. enters the closest kitchen, walking toward the oven. Tucking on mitts, a perplexed expression crosses his features, “Our past? My dearest niece… have you been afflicted by amnesia?”

“No, my memories serve me right,” Odessa says, patient. “I am asking for information regarding where we had come from, as a whole species. What world we originated from, what our culture was like. I had spoken with father about the matter, but he said he didn’t know due to being younger than the rest of you.”

W.H. crosses over to the countertop, removing the cookies onto a cooling rack. He is silent for a few moments, and it is clear he is choosing his words carefully, trying to understand what she’s asking. He turns, a serious mien about him, unusual on his face. “I… I’m not sure, either.”

Odessa walks over to him, “Is it because you were separated from the hivemind?”

“I don’t believe so,” he replies. Folding his arms over his chest, the fact they’re all one person reveals itself in his posture and tone. “We had been created to serve Horde Prime. Nothing more or less. And I do think that I myself had been cloned after your father. He had been Horde Prime’s general as well, and if he didn’t know, one of our elder brothers might have the knowledge you seek.”

Odessa glances at Hydrangea and Tristan, then back to her uncle. “Do you know who would?”

W.H. ponders for a minute. “Hm, no one here, I am certain. The residents of Dryl are like myself—of the younger group, since we have more people skills to associate with the Etherians.”

Hydrangea says, “I always wondered how that worked. Where you were designated and why.”

W.H. nods, “Oh, yes, we put thought into what our new purposes would be. After I helped my brother and sister with Beast Island, I came here to demonstrate how to function with Etherians!”

Tristan walks over to the counter, “Where do you recommend we go, then? Also, can I have one?”

W.H. beams, nodding enthusiastically, “Please do! I am going to make much more. But in regards to your first question, I would suggest visiting family in Mystacore or Beast Island.”

Odessa takes a cookie off the rack as well, munching. Mystacore is closer, so it would be prudent to try there before traveling to Beast Island. There are portals stationed throughout Etheria, but it’ll be worth stopping by Mystacore. She hasn’t seen anyone there at all yet. Although, it’s not as if there are many who live in the clouds, visiting her family there is always exciting.

“Thank you, Uncle Wrong-Man,” Odessa says, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll head there now!”

“Take some food with you to go,” he insists. In a flash, he’s bagging the cookies into a cellophane sack, tying it with a pink ribbon that shapes into a butterfly. “Healthy meals are important, but so are treats! Otherwise, you get moody.”

Hydrangea and Tristan are handed their own bags, much to their surprised delight. Before Odessa can accompany them out the door, W.H. stops her, giving her another, “Would you mind taking this with you for your cousin?”

Odessa smiles, “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Hordak and his brothers were categorized not by their clothes, or hair dye choices, but by their eyes. Odessa and her mother had noted the various shades of eye color, their teeth matching them the most; however, inside of their mouths, it adjusts to mimic the change as well, affecting the tongue and beneath it, gums, hard and soft palates, uvula, even extending down to the oropharynx. All her uncles are in good health, and with none of them dead, she can only assume that the change continues down the esophagus. She got it in writing several years ago that, should any be willing to be dissected for scientific purposes, she has a few choices for her study.

Their eye colors are fascinating: while they all reflect light to glow, which is meant to intimidate opponents, she has observed the change serves as behavioral distinction. The lighter the color, the more mellow and passive the personality; the darker or more intense, the more independent and aggressive. A chameleon-like feature, reflecting mood. And, in turn, signifying mental and physical health, as peppier individuals tend to be less plagued by feelings of inadequacy, anger, and low self-esteem. W.H. had his eye color eventually become the joyful chartreuse yellow she’s known since birth, and her father’s returned to their fiery red sometime after the war. This is the one true variation that doesn’t need attire or fanciful hair styles and dyes to show that no matter how alike they are by DNA, they are their own separate people.

So when she teleports to Mystacore, and she finds dark blue eyes staring at her from above, she remembers, quite immediately, that sometimes, darker eye colors don’t indicate low self-esteem but rather, an egregious amount of confidence.

Her uncle jumps down from his perch, landing daintily on his feet. He narrows his eyes, leering, “Odessa… it has been ages since you’ve arrived on Mystacore.”

“Hi, Talon,” Odessa says.

He looks at her friends, “You two are faring well, I hope.”

Hydrangea smiles, “Yes, thank you for asking!”

Tristan nods, “You look good, too, Talon.”

“Indeed,” Talon answers. “It would be a shame if I lost my abilities.”

With that, he throws knives out from his sleeve. Tristan dodges the attack by barreling to the side, somersaulting along the ground. Hydrangea calls up plants from underground, knives embedding into the sides. Odessa leaps into the air, reaching behind her to draw out a handheld bar. With a click, it extends to a staff, and another morphs it quickly into a pilum.

Reeling back her arm, she launches it with full ferocity at Talon. He avoids it, jumping to the left and pulling out more knives, but he aims them at Tristan, who runs toward the nearest fountain to pull water out from its containment. Tristan moves his arms upward, pushing out enough water to create a vertical depth, the knives slowing down as they pierce its surface and float inside.

Odessa tugs her spear out from the dirt, cornering her uncle at the right. Hydrangea pulls plants forward, fingers splayed in the air. From her fingertips, electricity strings across her exoskeleton. Tristan rushes to their side, water sloshing around them, encasing Talon in its center, creating a barrier.

Talon sneers, then bursts out laughing. His stance loosens, standing upright, “Your senses haven’t weakened. Good. I’d be vexed if you squandered my generosity to teach you combat.”

Odessa smirks, minimizing her staff and settling it behind her back, “We wouldn’t do that.”

Hydrangea grins, “Tristan and I do practice on our own.”

Tristan shifts the water back toward its source, then rubs the back of his neck, “Which is great, since there was no holding back from that attack.”

“Enemies don’t show mercy,” Talon says. Adjusting his collar, he nods his head, “But tell me, what brings my niece and her companions to Mystacore?”

Odessa speaks, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Me?” he replies, curious.

“Yes. It’s about your origins. Uncle Wrong-Man said it might be beneficial to come to Mystacore and question my relatives here.”

Talon raises a brow. He looks up at his home, then addresses the trio, “Are you intending to stay for longer than an hour?”

“Most likely.”

“I will invite you to my home, then. Come. Dinner will be prepared soon, and we may discuss the topic during.”

Accepting this, they head in the direction of his home. An impressive, ornate building that’s three stories high; they tread up wide steps, where one can overlook the weigela bushes lined around the vicinity’s front entrance, a fountain spouting water in the garden’s center, surrounded by lilacs and roses. Cool air wafts over their bodies, welcome from the heat outside. Odessa remarks that the decor has only slightly changed, the furniture taking on silver, blue, and white qualities, polished until they gleam.

Going to the stairs, Talon nods at them, “Make yourselves at home. As usual, do not break anything. I will see you at dinner promptly.”

Once he’s gone, Hydrangea chuckles, “He’s still intense.”

“He’s gonna kill us one day,” Tristan sighs.

Odessa pats his shoulder, “Only if we let him.”

He lips thin out, “Not reassuring, Des.”

Climbing the steps, they decide to wait until they are called, and opt to entertain themselves by bothering someone else.

Magic radiates within the room, energy felt even behind the door. Odessa carefully pushes it open, seeing a slim figure move around. Putting a finger to her lips, she leads her friends into her cousin’s quarters. His face is stern, staring at the spell hovering over the ground at shoulder height.

Hydrangea sits quietly on a cushion on the floor, and Tristan does the same. Odessa leans against the wall, and they all watch. Eon is her cousin, and their similarities begin and end with their fathers having chosen Etherian women as their partners. He differs from her, and any other potential cousin, by having the capability to do magic. Real, Etherian magic.

Eon takes measured breathing, focusing on the spell. It elongates toward the ceiling and floor, then narrows to a thin line. Reaching for it, he plucks it with his forefinger. It snaps, and a discordant sound follows, uncomfortable and shrill. Hydrangea and Tristan cover their ears, as Odessa winces.

Eon looks at them, brow raised. He grins, “Did you all enjoy the show?”

“We did, until that,” Hydrangea complains, glaring at him. She frowns, lightly slapping her ears, “Aw no, there’s some ringing!”

“It’ll pass in a few moments,” Eon explains. “Besides, you three coming into my room unannounced and unwelcome deserves a bit of retribution.”

“By popping our eardrums?” Tristan asks, deadpan.

“Exactly,” Eon says, one hand on his hip. He turns to Odessa, and smiles. “You’re here sooner than expected.”

“I believe we arrived on time,” she answers, grinning back. She hasn’t seen him for a while, but he has gotten taller since then. He takes after their species' propensity for large heights, but she knows he’s grown a few inches and might continue to grow for the next couple of years as well.

Eon begins putting away his spellbook and notes, arranging them neatly, “What are the three of you doing here? With you on Etheria, you normally visit me later on your returns.”

“I came to ask your father some questions, but then he invited us to dinner.”

“He can be standoffish, but oddly enough, never when it comes to hosting meals.”

Hydrangea sits up, “We got into a sparring session with him right away too.”

Eon joins them on the floor, one knee bent to prop up an arm, “I had mine early this morning. You know him, he’s never done with training.”

Crossing outstretched legs, Tristan reclines against the wall, “Your parents don’t let up, huh?”

“No, but I head to my place at Bright Moon later in the month. I check in biweekly to continue my sparring and magic training, then head back and repeat.”

“That’s a lot of back and forth,” Hydrangea adds, holding a pillow to her chest.

Shrugging, Eon says, “I don’t mind. Keeps me busy.”

Odessa chuckles lightly, taking a seat beside Tristan, “For being super busy, Uncle Wrong-Man said to give you this.” Pulling out the bag, she tosses it to him.

Eon catches it deftly, a quiet ‘yes’ of triumph leaving his lips. His diet is strict when he’s with his parents, for optimal nutrition and betterment. But he has a sweet tooth that rivals Odessa and Entrapta, thus any opportunity to consume sugar is taken. Using a levitation spell, he has it placed atop his desk, and an invisibility spell follows after, keeping it from view.

“Won’t your parents find it? It’s not like you can’t smell cookies,” Odessa states.

“I’ll say it was one of you.”

Hydrangea laughs, “I don’t think they’ll be entirely fooled by that.”

“If not, that’s fine by me too,” Eon says. “I let them think they’re savvier than myself.”

Tristan smirks, “How often has that worked?”

“More than for you,” Eon says, smirking back.

Odessa and Hydrangea whoop at Tristan, who laughs in good humor.

Stretching his arms up and to the side, Eon turns to his cousin, “How did the last journey go?”

“It went as planned. We went to Pilan, and my parents found what they needed for research.”

“And you two?” he asks, addressing the others.

Hydrangea lays on her stomach, drawing circles on the pillow, “Hm… my moms have started taking me to council meetings, which is interesting. We had a gathering with some of the leaders in Plumeria that are helping to manage its growing space. And New Chelicerata has been thriving for years now, since we removed all the machinery in the Fright Zone and expanded it into the Flower Field.”

“Not all the toxins have been removed, I’m assuming.”

“Some of the groundwater had been too polluted, and it leaked into larger bodies of water, but, as a whole, we started seeing real progress six years ago.”

“I’ve been helping the residents there by removing water too far gone,” Tristan adds. “We’ve been separating them into larger containers as instructed, and we’re hoping that newer technology from Entrapta and Hordak will yield positive results in another decade or so.”

“Even if it’s slow, progression is always good.”

Odessa glances to her left, letting her mind drift. Time doesn’t pass by the same when traveling through space. She watches her mother age, while her father stays the same, and that’s the extent of how often she pays attention to the changes happening around her. It’s not from ignorance, but from not giving too much thought to it, even with the years she has spent returning to Etheria to evaluate and aid her people here.

Settling against Tristan, Odessa yawns. He keeps his body still as she falls asleep, finding their chatter relaxing. Dinner will arrive sooner if she’s napping. Even closing her eyes is enough for her body to rest, breathing quietly as she listens to them discuss any topic they happen upon.

Her friends are interrupted mid-conversation, a knock at the door grabbing their attention. Odessa opens an eye. The housekeeper bows her head, addressing Eon, “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room. Please, follow me.”

Odessa knows her uncle, Talon, is a force to be reckoned with in combat, but her aunt, Nyxia, is a woman with severe features and a severer personality. If there was ever given a choice between fighting him or her, they may have to weigh their options a little more carefully.

She is seated next to Eon, with Hydrangea and Tristan placed across from them. Odessa leans toward her cousin, “Did Nyxia poison the food this time?”

Eon shakes his head, “Maybe Tristan’s.”

Tristan bawks, “Hey!”

Waving his hand, Eon smiles, “I’m teasing. It’s more than likely Hydrangea.”

“What?!” she demands, worried.

“You two are making this easy,” Eon grins, shaking his head. “Really, after all this time, you continue to doubt my parents’ hospitality.”

“I haven’t seen your mom in a while, okay? I wouldn’t know if I offended her last time,” Hydrangea breathes out, leaning back in her chair.

Ear twitching, Odessa catches the sound of footfalls, her aunt coming into view from the corridor, chin-length, violet hair framing lithe, dark features, gown flowing behind her. Definitely not a person to be out of line around.

But that only applies to non-relatives.

Nyxia smiles warmly at her niece, “Odessa! My charming girl, how have you been?”

“Wonderful, Aunt Nyxia, thank you,” Odessa replies, nodding her head in respect.

“Excellent. I heard all of you did well in your impromptu session with my husband earlier,” she says, making her way to the other end of the table. Standing beside her chair, she looks at her son’s other friends, “Talon remarked that you’ve improved considerably.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hydrangea and Tristan reply at once.

Talon comes from the opposite corridor, walking toward Nyxia. Pulling out the chair for her and sliding it beneath, he moves to the other end and takes his place at the head. The staff bring out their meal: roasted pheasants and potatoes, slathered in its drippings, with baked seasoned vegetables on the side. Wine is served to all of them, as Nyxia and Talon are lax in this department of child-rearing, though the option to have different beverages is always available. Odessa requests her usual fizzy drink, as Hydrangea asks for lemon water. Tristan and Eon have no qualms with the choice displayed in front of them.

“Smells delicious, Miss Nyxia,” Hydrangea compliments.

“Thank you, my dear,” she answers, laying a cloth on her lap. “When I heard you three were in Mystacore, I chose to make this instead.”

Odessa and Eon twiddle each other’s fingers under the table, a silent ‘fuck yeah’ to the change in menu. Nyxia is a phenomenal chef, but she abhors cooking. The usual staff do lovely work, except they are meant to keep things simple, clean, and balanced. Nyxia, despite agreeing with her husband on meal preparation, manages to create rich, satisfying food each time. Normally, when Odessa and her family are visiting.

Relishing this opportunity, Eon cuts into his pheasant, stabbing a portion of potato with it, melting on his tongue. Trying not to pretend-weep. Or actually weep.

“What was your question, Odessa?” Talon asks, swirling the wine in its glass. “It’s not like you to come without your parents.”

Dabbing her mouth, Odessa looks at him, “I wanted to ask you questions about your time serving as a soldier for Prime.”

He doesn’t break the smooth motion of his wrist, not minding that part of his life, “Yes?”

“I was told that older clones might have information regarding our origins. A life before Prime sought out to conquer the universe. My father and W.H. are too young to remember, or were never privy to it. You’re one of the eldest, so I figured to come here before heading to Beast Island.”

Talon sets down his glass, lifting his fork and knife. He takes a bite of his food, chewing quietly. Swallowing, he says, “I will be blunt: it is not possible to know such a thing. Our purpose, our life, was to do Prime’s bidding.”

“There isn’t anything you can think of?”

Talon mulls the question, glancing up at his wife, then back to the plate. He narrows his eyes, and they flicker to an even darker shade of blue for a fraction of a moment. He gives a minute shake of his head, imperceptible to all but his wife.

Odessa waits for him to speak, slipping out her recorder with a strand of hair.

“I… cannot remember a time before Horde Prime. There was only war. Ravaged lands, and screaming,” he leans forward. He meets his niece’s gaze, “You might have to go to Beast Island for your answers, though I do not trust they will know more. Many of us have been alive for decades, but not millennia.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Tristan wonders. “The hivemind was the source of connection. Did you lose memories once it left?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be that way,” Talon answers, sipping his drink. “It’s more… you have recollections, starting from the present. And it continues backwards until it stops. A wall in your head, which is the moment of when we, for lack of a better word, are ‘born.’ From what I’ve gathered, raising Eon, and observing all of you growing up, an infant that develops naturally can have memories that are faint—both in sensation and imagery, and the mind’s eye develops scenarios of what could’ve happened. Piecing puzzles in your memory banks. Attempting to make sense of your childhood and surroundings, and it even causes you to feel certain emotions into adulthood on a subconscious level. For us, and my brothers, there is no guesswork. There is the instant of emerging from the vitrine, and from there it goes on. Our memories are crystal clear, and gaps do not occur. If we feel emotion, it’s from direct experiences, not preconceived ideas of maybe how we experienced living. The hivemind being removed made us how we are now, but its absence didn’t seem to affect anything else.”

“Fascinating,” Odessa says, forgetting her meal. “So, you remember everything?”

“Yes. It would seem my brothers and I recall memories at greater capacities than most.”

“Would you say you have photographic memory?” Hydrangea asks, leaning forward.

“Our superior intellect allows us to retain knowledge quicker, and we remember things for longer, but a true photographic memory isn’t an aspect we have considered.”

Nyxia cuts into her pheasant, “It’s not unlikely. Your brothers and you have shown an uncanny ability to remember things more greatly than Etherians. It might be prudent to research it further, wouldn’t you say?”

Nodding in agreement, Odessa would not rule it out. She’ll discuss it with her mother for an unbiased opinion later.

Dinner finishes with chiffon cake and fruit, leaving guests and hosts satisfied. Talon and Nyxia wave at the door, as Eon walks them to the portal.

“It was good to see you all,” Hydrangea says, turning to Eon. She clasps his hands, “You should visit more!”

Eon blushes slightly, still not used to open demeanors, “I’ll try to make an effort.”

Tristan pats his shoulder, “You have to get out more. Between you and Odessa, I don’t know who’s more of the hermit.”

“It’s definitely me,” Eon replies. “Odessa’s too needy.”

Punching him in the arm, Odessa gives a side-hug right after. She and her friends step onto the portal, “I’ll drop by again soon! And visit my parents sometime, dumbass.”

He flips her off, smirking.

Hopping through the portal, they arrive in Plumeria, where she bids goodbye to her friends. Then, she heads to Beast Island.

“Odessa! My little cupcake, how was your trip to Mystacore?” Entrapta asks. Imp, crawling around on the walls, chirps his greetings with Emily beeping at her return.

“It was very interesting,” Odessa says, pulling out her recorder. “Would you like to listen with me?”

“You bet!” Entrapta shouts, sidling over to sit on her hair. Odessa takes a proffered seat before playing back the conversation at dinner. She listens with rapt attention, the two of them quiet. Afterward, Entrapta grins, “That was fascinating! I had noticed that your relatives tend to be more affluent with recollection than most, but this requires more study.”

“Do you think there is a possibility that they have photographic memory?”

“We won’t know unless we test the hypothesis,” Entrapta turns to her daughter, grinning wide. “You know what that means!”

Odessa grins wide too, saying it with her.

“Time to experiment!”

Odessa and Entrapta had to decide what and how to measure. The test is simple on paper, but part of the reason memory tests can be difficult is due to fallibility of nature. Recalling a memory does not equate accuracy. They also had to take into account that Etherian children were more susceptible to false memories, which could affect them as adults, hence, why Talon said that there’s no guesswork for his brothers and himself. And when it came to the ethics, Entrapta reminded Odessa that it’s part of experimentation, much to the latter’s chagrin. Odessa would’ve followed, regardless, but she’s more determined to see things through without obstacles.

A lack of true full-blooded children for Hordak’s species, and Eon and Odessa were not little anymore, that wasn’t necessary to entertain. However, Odessa and Entrapta believed it would be prudent to test the memory of Eon and any other hybrid cousins simultaneously to the Etherian and Horde groups, sans Odessa.

After deliberating, they chose to experiment by gathering Etherians between the ages of 15-50, to cover the age bases of both Etherian teens and adults, hybrid offspring, and Horde descendants. After age 14, correct absolute judgments and relative judgments have better succession rates and are not as affected by false positives. With this in mind, Odessa sends out a mass message asking if anyone would like to be part of a study.

She receives her answers quickly from her uncles, who would be more than delighted to aid her in any quest. She splits them into four groups, Group A, B, C and D. To accommodate for the choice in subjects, they will be separated into three sections, Etherians being the first, hybrids the second, and her uncles will be the third subsect. Over the course of the week, she receives the rest of her subjects at Beast Island.

Tristan and Hydrangea are the first to arrive, looking forward to spending time with her and her family in the meantime. Hydrangea gives Emily and Imp hugs and kisses, cooing over them incessantly. Imp clings to Hydrangea’s neck, completely at ease.

Tristan pats Emily’s surface, smiling at her beeps, “It’s good to see you too.”

She beeps even louder and harder, spinning around in place.

Entrapta grins, “Aw, you made her day!”

“No one else is my favorite robot, are they, Ems?” Tristan asks. She spins again, and the whirring becomes softer, almost shy.

Odessa nudges his ribs, “Great, my sister has a crush on you.”

Tristan rolls his eyes, smiling.

Odessa peers at his face, “Hey, you shaved!”

“Yeah, you were right. It was horrible,” Tristan remarks.

“You look better this way,” Odessa affirms, pinching his cheek, and he lightly whacks her fingers away.

Scorpia comes a moment later, and immediately bolts over to them all. Once the hugs are done, Scorpia and Entrapta discuss things on their own. Entrapta settles into the crook of Hordak’s arm, resting easily over her shoulders. Scorpia gushes over how cute they are. Hordak humphs in disdain, despite the blush on his cheeks.

Another five minutes pass and the portal hums. Catra, Adora, and two of their children come through.

Odessa sighs. Not looking forward to having some of them here. But she smiles, walking to Adora, “Hi! Thanks for coming.”

Adora smiles, giving Odessa a warm hug. She pulls back, holding her at arm’s length, “It’s no problem. We’re glad to help! You’ve gotten taller.”

“You’ve definitely sprouted more than we thought. I remember when you were knee-high,” Catra says. “You were the worst ankle-biter in Etheria.”

Odessa teases, “Still am.”

Laughing, Catra pats her back, walking hand in hand with Adora to their friends.

Her smile falters after that, though she manages to keep it in place. If Catra and Adora weren’t there, she wouldn’t hide her contempt or indifference.

They have four children in total. Quadruplets in fact. All a year younger than her at 15. Two of them, Clawdeen and Marlena, tend to spend their time in Bright Moon, and she has no opinion of them other than they’re not her sort of people. Well, that’s not true. They’re surprisingly elitist and refuse to associate with anyone they find unworthy of their time. They mind their business enough, however, so Odessa doesn’t pay them attention.

Barely coming to five feet tall, Molly is one of the children here today, a skittish, timid thing; the runt of her litter. She inherited Catra’s heterochromia, one eye blue, the other green, and that’s the one interesting thing about her. She stands, unsure, by the portal. Her appearance here is odd, since she tends to be alone. Odessa doesn’t hate her, or even dislike her, but the girl’s meekness doesn’t make her striking enough to have an opinion on either.

Adam, their one son, is another story. His eyes are bright blue, and slightly jarring in the feline face. The opposite of Molly, he is loud, prone to temper tantrums, and his temerity leaves much to be desired. She prefers the company of confident, open people, but he’s, without a doubt, the most obnoxious fucker she’s ever had the misfortune of knowing.

His eyes, the only one to resemble Adora’s, land on hers, and he leaps over, grinning. Placing an arm on her shoulder, leaning, he says, “Yooooo, what’s up, girl?”

Odessa turns to him, narrowing her eyes, “Please don’t take my smile for welcome, you complete ass.”

“Ooh, baby, you need to chill,” Adam says, poking her nose.

“Try that one more time and I’ll bite it off.”

He winks, “That a promise, thottie from space?”

Odessa smiles wider, eyes flashing, “It’s a threat, you parasitic fool.”

Sensing her growing irritation, her friends bound over. Hydrangea waves at Adam, “Hey! We haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been?”

Adam turns to her, “Hey, Dragon Fruit! You know how I be—taking care of all this,” Adam gestures to his thin body, puffing out his chest. “What you been up to lately? Those flower braids are doing everything for your look.”

Hydrangea urges him to walk far, far, far, far away from Odessa’s area.

Rubbing her temples, Odessa takes a breath.

Tristan rubs her back, “Remember, Des: think of the experiment.”

Odessa nods at him. Science. Her one true refuge. “I know. It’s a little… irritating that he’s here. But I’m sure that empty-headed dolt will yield some results for me.”

Tristan smiles at her, ensuring she doesn’t lose her cool. Once he’s sure she won’t murder, he looks at Molly, “Hi! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Molly brushes hair away, looking briefly at the ground before addressing him. “Yeah… Um, my moms thought it would be cool to take one or two of us. To help Odessa out.”

Odessa shakes her head, “So glad about that.”

“Um… I’m sorry about Adam...” Molly starts.

“It’s fine,” Odessa replies, focusing back on her clipboard, walking away.

Sighing, Molly bites her lower lip, feeling uneasy.

Noticing that, Tristan smiles at Molly, “Come on. We can wait over here.”

“Sorry you’re stuck with me,” she mumbles.

“I’m not stuck with you,” Tristan answers. He leads her to an unoccupied stone ledge, the occasional pooka darting across it. “Though, I didn’t think this was your sort of thing.”

“It isn’t. I don’t really want to be here,” Molly answers, pulling her legs to her chest.

“It might be fun, right?” Tristan asks.

Shrugging, Molly places her chin onto her hands.

They both watch the portal light up, a plethora of clones marching through. It has to pause for a brief moment, then it continues to spew individuals out of it. Tristan glances down at Molly, knowing there’s no point in attempting to converse. The silence doesn’t bother him, and she seems to take more comfort out of not having to make dreadful small talk. He hates it too, so this works.

Eon and his parents eventually pass through. Waving at him, Tristan reclines in his seat, “You and your folks actually came. I didn’t think any of you left the house.”

Standing with his arms behind his back, at ease, Eon smirks, “You’re all lucky we don’t come out more often.”

Tristan sticks his tongue out at him. He gestures to his left, “You remember Molly?”

Eon looks down at her, “Yes, we have met before. Nice to see you again.”

Molly flushes, turning away, “Nice to see you too…”

He glances at Tristan, who gives a one-shoulder shrug.

She keeps quiet, looking at the people around her. Hordak and his brothers all stand out as one unit, and other cousins similar to Eon slowly arrive. Not as large in number, with more variation than Hordak’s species but less than natives. She watches Etherians coming forth as well, and doesn’t wave or acknowledge them. Hoping to blend with the background, she scoots further away, sinking behind Tristan.

Tristan notes her discomfort and doesn’t move.

Eon, however, waves at some relatives, who rush over to greet him.

Molly frowns, accepting her fate. She takes to watching Eon speak with his family, his tall, sleek body impressive even among those similar to him in build. His hair, cropped shorter at the sides, falls in front of his forehead, a darker hue than his cousin Odessa. His eyes are a lovely shade, bordering on magenta with a stronger red tint, the sclera an equally pretty color, lighter than his irises. His usual confident smirk remains on his face throughout, bright, sharp teeth against the usual backdrop of pale face with the sides of his cheekbones and neck becoming a shock of dark blue or purple. It seems to be a common male trait, since Odessa’s face is white all around, but she isn’t sure. She doesn’t see the other cousins close enough to tell.

She spies Odessa wandering with her device, either barking orders or quietly checking off things. Long, lilac hair floats behind her when not in use, her frame just as slim and tight as the others, and inheriting a tall height seems to be the norm for them. Despite her gorgeous features, Molly finds it interesting, also intimidating, how much redder Odessa’s eyes and sclera are compared to Eon’s.

Hydrangea is speaking with Odessa now, platinum blonde hair brushing against her body, falling in the softest of waves to the small of her back. Her lithe frame befits the gentler, kinder nature she has, which isn’t surprising considering who her parents are. But there’s that powerful change in limb, her arms spiking at the shoulder in dark red, the skin of her arms mottled with it, until it reaches her elbows, where it spikes again, hardens, forming another patch of chitinous skin that reaches her fingertips, claws neatly filed down. And then there’s the tail, shorter, but as potent as Scorpia’s. Deadly and graceful.

She looks up at Tristan, beautiful, brown eyes staring off to the distance. Long lashes frame them, delicate yet full. His hands rest lightly over his knees, fingernails painted black. Hair reaching the end of his neck, lightly touching muscular shoulders, it enriches brown skin with its color, more than a mere dark purple. It’s the color of wine in the dark, of a gorgeous night as the last remnants of light dash away. The blue of his clothes highlight everything further, lavish gold trim clashing against the bright colors, revealing every taut muscle without meaning to, and she traces the curve of his spine with her eyes.

She feels a gaze on her, and finds her brother staring at her from a distance. Molly, snapping from her reverie, darts her sight to the ground. Unaware of Tristan looking in her direction.

Once enough participants have arrived, Odessa claps her hands, “Alright, people! Listen up: I have divided you all into the following groups. Step up this way, where I will assign you all with a place to go to.”

Adam bounds up out of nowhere, whispering, “Can whatever group I’m in be called Team Sexy?”

Odessa ignores him, “Let’s begin, shall we?”

HYDRANGEA

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

“Alright,” Odessa says. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures. You will have seven seconds to absorb all the details for them, and afterward, I will ask you one simple question about what you can remember.”

“You got it!” Hydrangea sits in her chair, comfortable. “Sounds easy enough.”

Odessa smiles, “Here’s your first one.”

She holds up a simple image of table mats atop a wooden surface, decorated with plates of breakfast foods, drinks, and fresh fruits.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yep!”

“What fruits topped the waffles?”

“Oh, um… berries and apples?”

Writing it down, Odessa proceeds with the next image.

TRISTAN

Age: 17

Species: Etherian

“Hello!” Entrapta says, bringing him in. “I’m going to show you 10 pictures for less than 10 seconds each, and you’ll let me know what you remember.”

“Sure thing,” Tristan replies, sitting upright.

She pulls out an image of miscellaneous items and personal effects on a desk, three photographs in the middle, a drawing in one of the corners, a grey notebook, and a folder with intricate patterns.

“Okay, ready for the question?”

“Yes.”

“Were there tickets on the table?”

Tristan mulls his answers for a moment, “No.”

MOLLY

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Odessa approaches the girl, relieved that she doesn’t have to deal with the handful that was her brother. She looks at Molly, “I’m going to hold up 10 pictures for you, and you will have seven seconds to absorb the image. Afterward, I will ask you questions.”

“Alright,” Molly nods, nails clicking against each other.

The image is of a mountain peak, glinting from the light; the moon shines above it, and a trip of hoofed animals moving along its surface.

“What was the total number of baby goats in the image?”

Molly thinks over the total, and says, “Five.”

ADAM

Age: 15

Species: Etherian

Entrapta comes into the room, “Hello! I’m going to be showing you some pictures—”

Adam interrupts her, “Is this going to take long?”

“Nope! It takes less than five minutes for this segment to be complet—”

“Do we get paid to do this?”

“...No.”

Scratching his nose, Adam leans back in his chair, “Got it, got it. Lay it on me, girl!”

Entrapta smiles, “Great! So, I have 10 pictures and I will show them to you for about seven seconds. I will ask you questions after each one about what you saw.”

“Question real quick: is this one of those tests that explain anything about your psychosis?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it gonna tell me anything, like, am I gonna learn about who is the most likely to be a murderer or nymphomaniac?”

Raising a brow at him, Entrapta says, “I can’t divulge too much about the study to participants. But this is not that kind of test.”

“Aw… okay,” Adam shifts back further in his seat, lifting the front legs from the ground. “Well, that’s less fun.”

Entrapta proceeds to bring out a picture: a series of potted plants are lined on shelves, different heights and colors smashed closely together in the frame, their pots not resembling the others save for a few.

“What was the centre motif for the pots?”

Adam scratches his chin, “Frog, I think.”

EON

Age: 18

Species: Etherian and ?

Odessa approaches her cousin, sitting relaxed in the seat. She had gone through the first ten pictures with him already. She glances at him, “Are you ready to continue with the process?”

“Whatever this study is, I’m assuming that you need me to come back again for another trial run.”

“Yes, you will be returning a few times after today to aid in the study, as per your agreement on the written form.”

“Of course.”

“You went through the first half, and you’re going to begin the second half now. This is slightly different,” Odessa explains. Instead of photographs, she holds up a pad, similar in size and weight to her telecommunicator. “I am going to hold up one image: a grid of white and black squares. Then, I will show you a second image, of the same number of squares on the grid; however, you will choose the one square you believe was white in both image one and image two. Image three will have the grids with numbers in the squares instead for you to pick. The amount of time will be the same, seven seconds. There are four levels of difficulty, and you will proceed until we reach the last level.”

Nodding, Eon watches her lift the screen to his eyes. A grid of white and black appears, and he keeps in mind which are white only. The second image appears. Then the third. He makes his decision. He will not know if he is right, as the data is processed within for the researchers alone.

Odessa keeps her face neutral the entire time, intrigued at what this part of the test will yield from everyone else.

TALON

Age: approx. 90 (total) | approx. 52 (mental) | approx. 52 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta smiles, “We do appreciate you helping with the test.”

“It is no trouble,” Talon states. “You and my niece are a select few that do not leave me…”

“Irritated?”

“We’ll use that word.”

Entrapta approaches her brother-in-law, setting herself down on swathes of hair, “Are you ready for the second half of the test?”

“Yes. By all means, little sister, proceed.”

“Excellent! I’m going to show you a grid with black and white squares. Another image will appear after on the device. The number of squares will not change, however, you have to decide what is the one square that remained white. You will pick that in the third image, where the squares will all be numbered.”

“Understood. You may show me the first image.”

W.H.

Age: approx. 40 (total) | approx. 23 (mental) | approx. 27 (physiological)

Species: ?

“This must be exciting for you, isn’t it?” W.H. asks. “You haven’t done a study like this in a while.”

Readying the pad, she nods, “It has been a few years since I’ve conducted anything in this manner.”

“I still remember when you were little, and you insisted on having your first experiment be a methane explosion. You were so cute!”

Odessa smiles, “Speaking of memory, we’re going to begin the second half of the test. You will have the same amount of time to memorize the image on screen. Another will follow right after, and your task is to choose which square on the grid remained white. The image will be your selection on a numbered grid.”

“Sounds fun!”

Holding it up for him, Odessa watches his eyes stay in place, focused. A flicker to indicate change on the screen, then another before he makes his decision.

HORDAK

Age: approx. 56 (total) | approx. 57 (mental) | approx. 35 (physiological)

Species: ?

Entrapta can’t help but smile at him, “Thanks for helping, Lab Partner!”

Hordak smiles back, rising from the chair, “Of course. The experiment seems to be going well.”

“It’s been so fascinating!” Entrapta lifts herself up in the air, at his height. “Everyone has been super helpful, even when they’re rambling about their own assumptions!”

“Who was rambling?”

“One of Catra’s kids—the boy. He was very interesting when he talked, but I had to stay focused! We’re collecting so much data… Odessa is going to be ecstatic!”

Happy to see her in good spirits, Hordak leans forward, kissing her cheek, “When you’re done, I will be waiting for you in our room.”

Entrapta waggles her eyebrows at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Ooh! Is this about that new maneuver you wanted to show me?”

“We’ll see if your memory serves you just as well tonight,” Hordak smirks.

Squealing, Entrapta kicks her legs behind her, pecking his mouth with her own. “Can’t wait!”

The results, overall, took two months to compile through the data machine and to check back in with the participants. None of the groups had different numbers, pictures, objects, or words. Odessa and Entrapta tested everyone on their eidetic and photographic memory ability. Group A had no distractions, Group B had Etherians with distractions only, Group C was where her cousins had the disturbances, and Group D it was her uncles with diversions.

When it came to eidetic memory, the numbers didn’t vary too much. But the photographic memory yielded noteworthy results. Each group was brought back a month after being tested to see if they could recall things better. A few Etherians showed some promising ability for it, but overall it wasn’t strong. Her cousins showed stronger signs for photographic memory, Eon being one of the best candidates.

But her uncles were nearly at a 97% rate of accuracy. Talon and W.H. showed an adeptness for remembering things weeks later. Hordak was somewhere in the middle. She wonders why.

“Mom,” she says, holding the charts in her hair. “I know that photographic memory is rare, but these numbers are unreal.”

“I know! The majority of your relatives have a knack for it! That’s so fascinating.”

“I have a theory that it might be due to the hivemind, and perhaps the military training they underwent. It would make sense why they have such capability, even two decades later,” Odessa says. She pulls another chart toward them, tapping her forefinger in quick successions behind it. “It may or may not be that, since we’re not certain of Dad’s origins, but it would explain aspects of it.”

Entrapta’s hair moves her behind her daughter, peering over her shoulder, “It may. I saw that Wrong Hordak was remarkable with photographic memory, and Talon as well.”

“I believe it’s possible that it might be due to neither having depressive episodes. It may have been a group study, but I saw that clones similar to Dad in terms of mental health had a tendency toward memory loss or confusion. It’s not as often or strong as Etherians, or a couple of my cousins, but it’s there. Brains are brains after all.”

“It is exceptional to write this in our records. I wish we had more examples to go by,” Entrapta says. She smiles, “I think it says quite a lot when you compare it to Etherians and your cousins, though.”

“I do find this riveting. Even if it’s Dad cloned thousands of times, there’s something in their brains, their minds, that can provide clues to them as a whole. It’d be prudent to conduct more research, but I’d like to begin as soon as possible, and I can add notes as I go along.”

Entrapta pats her daughter’s head, “And now that you have this information, what do you intend to do with it?”

Odessa looks up at her mother, then back at the data. “I’m going to have Tris and Gea come with me on a little field trip.”

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #entrapdak fankid #odessa #shera #spop

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oumiyuki · 4 years

Note

Kotori ends up gaining weight after being taken on far too many dinner dates with Honoka, and feeling super ashamed of herself, she tries and hide from Honoka for a bit while exercising in private. But when Honoka gets too lonely after a while, she asks Kotori about it, and tells her that she loves her no matter what!

KOTORI'S SECRETIVE DIET PLANS

Summary: Happy dating life means big smiles and laughs and lots of dates…and sometimes also gaining a little weight from all those dates. Kotori doesn’t like the number on the weighing machine or the excess squishiness on her belly. So she executes Kotori’s Secretive Diet Plans!

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Words: 1.9k

Read me at fanfiction.net or AO3 too~

Author Notes

I LOVE KOTOHONO!!!!

*O* aahh, sometimes we just gotta shout out that love! Hehe~

I hope you like it, you who gave the prompt! ^w^

May you enjoy! XD

"Uu..." Kotori worries at her bottom lip. Her golden eyes shimmering with sadness at the numbers displayed on the weighing scale.

A deeper frown as she places a hand on her belly to squeeze it.

"Honoka-chan...I think I'm gaining too much weight from all our dates..." The ash-brunette mumbles to herself since her Honoka was back in the gingerhead's own house, sure to be carefree and carelessly munching more snacks.

Kotori stares herself down in the mirror - worry morphing to determination as she slaps her cheeks twice. "I'm going to execute a secret plan to get back in shape so I can go on more dates with Honoka-chan!!"

The fluffy costume designer raises her balled fist to show her passion before she goes to her desk to pen down the schedule and diet plans.

Once done, she decides to add one more line on the top, with an asterisk and boxed up with cute orange ink, "[*A secret from Honoka-chan!]"

~~~

Week 1 Day 1

"Ko~to~ri~chan!!" The bubbly gingerhead hops by Kotori's table, smiles wide and absolutely endearing to the ash-brunette keeping away her study instruments.

"Yes, Honoka-chan?"

"Let's go on a date!" Honoka announces and Kotori's heart flutters.

"Ah, that..." Kotori was always quick to say yes to her girlfriend. But this time, she remembers that their dates tend to bring them to cafes, restaurants, picnics and snack shops and bakeries..!!

"Kotori-chan? Your hand froze." Honoka tilts her head to the side quizzically.

"Um! Honoka-chan...I just remembered I got something on so I can't go on a date with you today..." Kotori smiles sheepishly as she glanced at the clock; she should be carrying out her exercise regimen.

"Oh..." Honoka couldn't hide the disappointment as her smile fell from her face. It didn't take more than ten seconds for her to grin again though. "We can at least go home together?"

Kotori returns the smile and a nod. "Yes."

~~~

Week 1 Day 3

“Kotori-chan~” Honoka swings both Kotori and her hands up and down, spirits jolly and mind hopeful.

“Yes~?” Kotori responds with equal glee.

“Want to take a detour today? There’s this store-”

“Ah! I’m sorry, Honoka-chan…I promised my mum that I’ll help in the house…And I don’t want to get back late so…” Kotori wished she didn’t have to cut the gingerhead off. The sad puppy eyes Honoka gave her made her heart ache.

But this is all so she can keep up the diet plan! No additional calories just yet.

Honoka nods with a solemn smile. “Alright…I’ll try to ask you out another time then!”

Honoka pumps their joined hands up with determination and laughs. Kotori couldn’t help but join in before she was walked home.

~~~

Week 2 Day 2

“Aaahh!! I can’t take it anymore!!” Honoka whines and pouts at the mirror…and to her reflection as she was getting ready for school. “Kotori-chan…Why are you constantly too busy to go on dates with me!”

The gingerhead shakes her head, her hair fluttering about before it rests on her shoulders again and she adjusts her school ribbon.

“Did I do something wrong..?” Honoka hums thoughtfully before her lightbulb moment occurs – she’s going to sneakily follow Kotori to find out what her girlfriend has been up to!

After school rolls by and Honoka approaches her girlfriend’s table with what she thinks is a not-obviously-up-to-something-smile. “Kotori-chan~”

The ash-brunette smiles right back, always happy to see Honoka. “Yes?”

“Are you…free for a date or…shall we be on our usual?” Honoka straightens her back and positions her arm in a ninety degree angle meant for her partner to link arms with. “Knight Honoka escorting you home!”

Kotori giggles into her hand and slips her hand into Honoka’s waiting arms as she stands. “Mmm…~ Escort me home, dear Knight Honoka-chan.”

Honoka nods excitedly but as they were leaving the classroom – it hit her.

!! AAah!!! I should be following Kotori-chan not bringing her home!!

Kotori thankfully was looking straight ahead so she does not witness Honoka’s expressions changing all over the place.

Ah, but…if she immediately said escort her home, means Kotori-chan is just busy with household chores..?

Honoka tilts her head up in thought.

Even though she just did a big cleaning yesterday?

Honoka closes her eyes for deeper thoughts as they rounded the bend and exited school grounds. Thinking long enough with the help of fresh air and still blue skies, Honoka decides.

Alright! I’ll hang around on the outside and pop by inside after to surprise Kotori-chan!!

The ash-brunette’s soft giggles bring Honoka back down to Earth. “Kotori-chan..?”

Kotori smiles right at her girlfriend. “It’s nothing~ Just your lost in thoughts look is so charming too~”

Honoka’s cheeks flush. “Ah…T-thank you…” Sudden compliments from Kotori and that smile just gets the gingerhead’s heart to beat erratically and blushes to form.

Kotori was all smiles all the way home.

Honoka is easily distracted.

“Aww, kitty~ cute kitty~” Honoka coos as she played with a neighbourhood cat not noticing how much time has passed after she brought Kotori home.

The cat meows happily from the friendly ginger’s pats and messing around with them. However, as how cats are, they sing their own tune and decided to let out a single meow like, “I’m done playing.” And walked off.

“Aww~ No more playing?” Honoka waves goodbye.

Surprisingly, the white-and-black cat turned to give one more meow before it jumped onto the wall and disappeared on the other side.

“Nya~” Honoka mimics and stands up to stretch. “Mm… Now what was I going to do- AH. Kotori-chan!”

The ditzy leader of Muse finally remembers her agenda but it was already so late. Right on cue, her phone rang and she panicky says she’s on the way home for dinner.

Ahhh, guess I should do a better job at following Kotori-chan tomorrow!!

~~~

Week 2 Day 3

Honoka sleeps in. Snuggled under her blankets until Yukiho’s voice boomed loud and clear, her little sister’s head poked into her room. “Onee-chan, you’re gonna be late for school!”

“Uwaaa!!” Honoka wakes with a start and clumsily falls out of bed, kicks off the blankets still hugging her legs and hurried to get ready. “Thanks, Yukihoooo!!”

The younger redhead shakes her head with a smile. “When Kotori-san doesn’t wake you, this is what happens.”

Honoka got to school alright and she went through the school day as per normal, smiling when the end of school arrives.

I’ll pretend to be the busy one today!

“Honoka-chan.” Kotori approaches first with a sheepish smile. “I have somewhere else to be, so you don’t have to escort me home today…”

“Ah! That isn’t a problem. I’ve…got something on too!” Honoka averts her gaze with a chuckle and scratched the back of head.

“That’s good.” Kotori was relieved to hear that Honoka had plans else she’d feel bad for leaving Honoka alone again. “See you tomorrow, Honoka-chan.”

“See you~” Honoka waves Kotori goodbye before following her.

~~~

“Eh?” Honoka blinks twice as she looked around and up the long flight of stairs.

Kanda Shrine?

Honoka walks along the wall and hides as she watched Kotori appear in gym clothes and begun stretching.

Kotori-chan…is this extra training? You could’ve called me along…

Honoka pouts as she continued observing the ash-brunette finish up her stretches and begun runs up and down the long stairway of Kanda Shrine. Honoka wasn’t counting but she’s quite sure an hour has passed before Kotori finishes up.

She’s working so hard…and here I am-

Honoka stops when she hears her girlfriend’s voice.

“Haa…Somehow it doesn’t seem like it’s working out yet…” Kotori touched her tummy as she mumbled softly to herself.

Honoka could hear because she was channelling all of her focus to listen.

What’s not working out..? The workout-

Honoka gets cut off another time when she hears her girlfriend speak once more.

“It’s just the beginning. Kotori, no giving up! This is so we can go on more dates with Honoka-chan!” The fluffy costume designer kept her pumped fist and went to pick up her bag.

For more dates with me…

Before Honoka could try to comprehend Kotori’s intentions of all the running and avoiding hanging out with her, the gingerhead hurried to follow Kotori again.

Now standing before Kotori’s house, Honoka got a feeling she should confront Kotori today.

It’s now or never!

The Leader of Muse nods to herself and opened the doors with the spare keys Kotori gave her, saying she feels safe knowing Honoka can come find her anytime she likes.

“…One! …Two! …Three!”

Honoka could hear Kotori’s voice and she peeked into the ash-brunette’s room to find Kotori doing push-ups. And after a good twenty, the ash-brunette started other reps. Honoka’s jaw fell agape.

Is Kotori-chan trying to muscle build!?

The gingerhead wondered how to react to a muscular Kotori instead of her sweet, gentle looking one. Honoka shook her head and the image off.

R-Regardless…Kotori-chan should know I’ll support her decision.

Honoka doesn’t think twice and opens Kotori’s door just as the girl was taking a drink of her sports drink, seeing Honoka, she chokes on the liquid.

“Ahh, Kotori-chan!!” Honoka panics and rushes over to pat Kotori’s back. “Are you okay..? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hawawa, what do I do? What do I do?

Kotori shakes her head. “It’s okay…Honoka-chan. Why are you here though?”

Honoka looks into Kotori’s soft golden eyes, missing those long gazes. “Why I’m… OH!! Kotori-chan!! Please stop avoiding me!! I’ll die if I don’t get to spend more time with you, Kotori-chaaan!!”

I don’t want to only get to see you home. I need to get to spend hours on end with you!!

Kotori was surprised by the sudden outburst and cute, teary puppy dog eyes from her dear Honoka. Kotori smiles patiently. “Honoka-chan…”

Ah, and-

“You’ve got my full support to becoming buff and muscular!” Honoka takes her girlfriend’s hands into her own to squeeze. Her determined and supportive look on her face.

“B-Buff? Muscular..?” Kotori tilted her head to the side confused.

Honoka pursed her lips. “Isn’t that why you’re secretly training?”

“Ah, no! That’s not…” Kotori lowers her gaze to stare at the yoga mat. “It’s because…I gained weight from all the dates we’ve been on… And…”

Honoka gives Kotori’s hand another squeeze of encouragement.

“And I don’t want to be too dat that you won’t like-”

Honoka gently lets go and puts her hands on Kotori’s shoulder, her expression serious. “I’ll love you even if you’re fat. I know you’ll do the same for me…”

Honoka smiles softly, earnest ocean-blue eyes searches her favourite golden eyes for that assured gleam.

“Honoka-chan…”

“Plus, I still rather you’d tell me.” Honoka puts on an indignant pout. “I’ll do my best to help! Our dates don’t always have to be food and snuggles!” The gingerhead’s expression switches to a big dorky smile, shoulders relaxed.

It was infectious. Kotori smiled her sweet and gentle smile, the tense in her shoulders lost too. “Honoka-chan…~ (heart)”

Kotori wraps her arms around Honoka’s waist and Honoka does the same, leaning over, their foreheads touching. “I love you, Kotori-chan.”

“I love you too, Honoka-chan… (heart)”

They stayed close in each other’s arms for a long time, glad to be in each other’s warm love until Kotori decides they can indulge a little on dinner before they switch up from a solo diet plan to a Girlfriends Diet Plan.

Author Notes

HonoKotoooooooo~~ *O*

I’m remembering more and more just how much I love this two lovebirds. TwT Not to say I forgot but I certainly was feeling worried about being unable to write! Be it due to some sort of magical force or because of the lack of time @v@

A-Anyways!! I hope y’all enjoyed this~ :D

Leave me a comment if you like!! :D That would help me BIG time~ hehe~

And catch you next chappie of Honoka and Kotori’s laifu (life)~ ^w^

#honokoto #kotohono #fanfiction #kousaka honoka #minami kotori #love live #otp things #otp #love live!#love live! school idol festival #prompts #honoka kousaka #kotori minami #fanfic #writing #romance #fluff #cute #supportive girlfriend!!

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creacherkeeper · 5 years

Note

your writing is amazing! if you're still doing prompts: #40 "i wasn't lying when i said i loved you" for the GO fluff/angst prompts

Aziraphaledidn’t mean to eavesdrop. He was quite against eavesdropping, in a broad moralsense. But he was against a lot of things in a broad moral sense that heindulged in on the regular. Eavesdropping wasn’t one of those things—mostlybecause he didn’t tend to be very interested in the day to day chatter of thehumans, and rather liked tuning them out to dive into a good book. It justhappened to be something he found himself doing at the current moment, muchlike one finds themselves humming a tune or daydreaming. Well, maybe not quiteso innocent. Not that daydreaming was always innocent.

He stilledin the doorway, something fond filling him at the sounds of the voicesfiltering in from the other room. His hands gripped the tray of drinks. It hadtaken him longer than anticipated to retrieve them, but he was tired and couldn’tjustify the miracle. He’d made a cocoa for himself, a chamomile tea forAnathema, and a lemonade for Crowley. He didn’t know how Crowley could drink lemonadeso late at night. He was probably going to miracle some bourbon into it,Aziraphale thought. Bourbon was, according to Crowley, the one thing Americanshad gotten right.

“I just don’tknow if it’s worth it,” Anathema wassaying. It was clear from her voice how much she’d cried in the last few hours,and how she wasn’t done yet. “I helped save the entire world. Why is this so hard?”

“I thinkmost humans would agree saving the world is much easier than dating,” Crowleyresponded.

“It’sstupid. It’s just so stupid. It- I—”A frustrated growl left her throat. There was a beat of silence, and then ameek voice. “I really liked her.”

“Yeah,”Crowley said, sympathetic.

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Worth it?”

A deepinhale, the exhale loud and slow. “Dating? Probably not, no.”

A noise,like she was going to respond.

“But—” Crowleycut her off. “Love? The real thing, not … not Hallmark, you know, but … Whenyou really love someone?” The couch let out a creak. “Yeah, I think so. Yeah,it has to be, or what’s the point?”

Anathema sniffled.“Yeah.” For a moment, silence. Aziraphale’s grip on the tray only tightened. “Ijust … How can you be sure? I don’t- I don’t mean to call you out specificallyor anything, I’m just- You know- Heartbroken breakdown mode. It does things toyou.”

“No, it’sfair. It’s fair.” Crowley’s S’slingered in the air. Aziraphale could hear the tension in those S’s. “I just- I mean … You can’t livefor 6,000 years and not learn a thing or two.”

Anathema hummed.“That’s kind of- I mean, it’s a cop out, whatever, but—”

Crowley letout a frustrated growl. “I- Okay. Are you going to make me say it?”

Aziraphaleleaned closer to the doorway as the silence stretched. He imagined there wassome sort of exchange in their expressions, but he couldn’t be sure.

“I just … seethe way you two look at each other,” Anathema said. She sniffled, and the couchcreaked again. “Dance around each other. Act like you’re the only two people inthe world.”

Aziraphale’scheeks flushed. He should probably stop listening, he thought.

He didn’t.

“We don’t,”Crowley said, entirely unconvincing.

Anathemasnorted. “It’s not a bad thing. Well, I mean … it can be frustrating to watch,but … It’s also sort of the only reason I haven’t completely given up yet, youknow?”

“Glad to bean inspiration,” Crowley griped.

There wasanother long stretch of nothing, just the soft sounds of moving fabric, somesilent exchange.

“If you sayanything, I’ll drop you right through the floor,” Crowley eventually relented.

“There’s nobasement.”

“That’s notwhere I meant.”

Anathemamade some strange noise. It took Aziraphale a moment to realize it was supposedto mimic a zipper. To be truthful, it was getting harder to focus on theconversation, and impossible to focus on anything else. His heart was thudding.He was aware of that distantly. His ears were burning. He could barely feelthem. He’d been alive for 6,000 years, but he didn’t think anything had everbeen more important to him than hearing Crowley’s next words.

A sigh. “There’ssome people—and you’ll meet them from time to time, and you’ll think it happensway more often than it does in truth—that, when you’re around them for longenough—and sometimes the ‘long enough’ is years, or months, and sometimes it’sa day—that when you know them, when you’re around them, when you really seethem … There’s this quality, you’ll know it, that—” A beat. “Some people arehard not to fall in love with.”

There was amoment where he was sure Anathema was processing that, because he himself wasstill processing, was pulling apart the string of words like putty andthinking, surely, he didn’t mean …?

“Yeah,”Anathema said after a moment. “Yeah.”

Before heknew it, Aziraphale was outside, out in the backyard, taking in deep gulps ofthe perfectly seasoned air. It was Fall, and the air was chilly, and it stunghis lungs a bit each time he breathed in. His heart was racing, and so was hismind. It kept starting and restarting, circling like a drain around, Surely, he didn’t …? Surely, he didn’t.

The drinks,gone mostly a neutral temperature by now, were abandoned on the faded brick ofthe patio. He sat down heavy on the garden swing, looking up at the darkened sky. Faraway, the starts glittered and shone, and Aziraphale had never felt more seenor more terrified.

Love. That’swhat they’d been talking about, they’d been talking about love. And then theyhad talked about Aziraphale, and Aziraphale and Crowley, and somehow his braincouldn’t draw the line between point A and point B. It felt like point A wasright there, right in front of him, and point B was 6,000 years away. He couldstart drawing the line, but he couldn’t see where it led.

He didn’tknow how long he sat out there, thumbs twiddling, shoes scuffing on the brickas his feet swung. His gaze flitted from the stars to Anathema’s little flowergarden, idly tracing its way around the yard, down the lane, not really seeinganything, not really focusing. He got so tired of thinking that he quite forgotto do it altogether. Shock, the humans might call it. He was in shock.

“Angel?”Crowley called, and it broke him out of his reverie so hard he got a littlebreathless. The swing creaked as he jolted. Crowley peeked his head out as the door opened. “Oh, there you are. Whathappened to getting drinks?”

“I- ah—” Hiseyes darted away. “I heard a noise. Outside. Came to investigate and gotdistracted. It’s such a lovely night.”

Crowleyhummed, turning his face toward the sky.

“How’sAnathema?”

“Finallyfell asleep, poor thing.” Crowley stepped fully outside, one hand coming up torub at his back. “Carried her up to bed. Heavier than she looks; I’m not 1,000anymore.”

Aziraphalelet out a laugh, though it was breathless and pitiful.

“Are youready to go, angel? Or did you want to sit out here and stand guard all night?”

“Never wasone for that,” Aziraphale said. “No, let’s head home- er- You can drop me offat the bookshop, I mean.”

Crowleynodded and inclined his head towards the front of the house. It was a testamentto his tiredness that Crowley didn’t say anything as they cut through the yard,gathered themselves in the Bentley, and started to drive. The radio stayed off.Aziraphale was glad for it, in part, and also dismayed. He wasn’t one for themusic, whatever the Bentley decided it would play that day, but it at leastwould have given a cover for his silence, for his intentional and measuredbreaths, for the way his hands shook.

“Crowley,”he started, and he hated already that he had opened his mouth to begin with. “Itwas very sweet, what you said to her.”

“Hm?”

“When Iwent out for drinks, I mean.”

Crowley’sgrip on the steering wheel tightened. He’d always been pale, but Aziraphalecould see the bones of his knuckles press white against his skin. He shouldstop now, stop while there was still some ambiguity to what he’d meant. Saveboth of them the embarrassment. Yes, he would stop now, then.

“Aboutthere being people you can’t help falling in love with,” he continued. Hismouth clamped shut. Betrayal. Complete and utter self-betrayal.

Crowleydidn’t respond, but he could hear his swallow.

“I just- Itwas very sweet, is all I mean. I think she needed to hear it.”

The enginerevved as the car began to pick up speed.

“And it’s …well, it’s alright, is what I’m trying to say, if that’s why you said it. Really,it’s fine. I shouldn’t have been listening in the first place, I do apologizefor that. But I’m just- Well, I won’t be offended if you wanted to take itback. Not to Anathema—to me, I mean. I know it wasn’t meant for me. She reallyhas been struggling lately, she has, the poor girl, and sometimes you saythings as a kindness that you don’t really mean and—”

“I meantit,” Crowley cut him off.

Aziraphale’steeth snapped together.

“Oh,” hesaid.

There was amoment of silence, not one of exchanged glances or of comfortable shuffling,but tense. They didn’t look at each other, just stared ahead at the road.

“I didn’tmean for—” Crowley stopped. His hand rose only to slap at the steering wheel. “Shit.”

Aziraphale’sears were burning hot. “I’m sorry—”

“No, I just—”

“I shouldn’thave brought it up—”

“No, it’s—”

“I shouldhave kept my mouth shut—”

“It’s just anticlimactic,is all.”

Aziraphalestopped. His hands ached from how hard he’d been clenching them.

“It’s just …”Crowley waved his hand, lip curling. “Six-thousand years. I thought there’d be-Oh, I don’t know. Fireworks, maybe. A hot air balloon. No, maybe not a balloon.Would be stupid, with the wings and all. I don’t know. Champagne, at least.”

Aziraphalestared hard down at his hands, twisted together in his lap. He took an even,measured breath. “I got you a lemonade,” he said, and immediately hated thatthat’s what had come out of his mouth. “Didn’t make it to you, I’m afraid.”

“Well,”Crowley said. He let the word hang between them. “Hound’s out of the bag.”

“I think it’ssupposed to be ‘cat’.”

Crowleyspared him a glance.

“’Cat’s outof the bag’.”

“Oh.” Hishead tilted, considering. “No. Not scary enough.”

Aziraphalelet his thumbs rub together. “I’m sorry you find this scary,” he said.

“’S bloody terrifying,” Crowley murmured, voice low. “It always is, I think. But, Imean- 6,000 years.”

Aziraphalenodded, taking in a deep breath. They weren’t looking at each other, still. “Ido- um—” He cleared his throat. “I do too, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Love you,that is.”

He wasn’tsure if the car would accelerate, if Crowley would try to outpace the feelings trappedinside it, but it didn’t. The Bentley sailed smoothly, and the radio stayedsilent.

“And, Imean, not in the—” he continued. “Not in the, you know, sacred, angelic way. Ilove you in the way I love all things, yes, but it’s also … Well, I think youput it nicely, actually, when you were talking to Anathema. That some peoplejust have a certain quality, and you fall in love. That’s what I mean, that I’ve-Well, somewhere along the way, it seems, I couldn’t help but go head overheels.”

Crowley swallowed. His body was still taught, but loosening. “What do we- uh-do with that?”

Aziraphalepushed out a little sigh, one of consideration. He took a moment to think aboutit. “I think,” he said, “that, for now, for right now … We slow down a bit, sowe can roll down the windows. It’s such a lovely night, after all.”

Sureenough, the Bentley slowed. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was Crowley obligingor the Bentley itself.

He reachedover to crank down his window, Crowley doing the same. The crisp night airfilled the car, and Aziraphale got an unobstructed view of the glittering nightsky.

“And then,I think,” Aziraphale continued, “that you ought to hold my hand.”

Crowleyreleased a breath, quick and through his nose, and Aziraphale thought it mightbe a laugh. He examined the outline of Crowley’s face as his hand extendedbetween them.

Crowleydidn’t move at first. But, from what Aziraphale could see in the dim lightaround them, it looked like he was fighting off a smile.

“S’ppose itwouldn’t be the worst thing,” Crowley mumbled, and reached out.

Their handslinked. Aziraphale’s was warm and Crowley’s cool, and their fingers fittogether, one and one, two and two, just so. Aziraphale pulled their conjoinedhands closer to him, to rest on his leg, a little possessive.

“Anythingelse?” Just a hint of teasing.

“I havesome champagne at the shop.”

“Do you?”Crowley asked.

“No.”Aziraphale’s lips pulled up. “But it’ll be there by the time we get back.”

“Yeah.”Crowley didn’t look at him, but he was smiling, too. Trying to fight it,obviously, but smiling. “Yeah, I suppose I have time for that.”

“If nothingelse, we have time,” Aziraphale said.

And abovethem, the star’s light giggled, because they’d been watching it all, right fromthe beginning, and they knew. They’d seen the first night in Eden and theywould see, tonight, through the windows of the bookshop, a toast.

To all that time, they’d hear. To us.

#thank you <3 i really enjoyed writing this one #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anathema device #Anonymous

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sorrelstream · 4 years

Text

entering “proper grammar” mode because I’m writing this on a google docs first and I don’t want to deal with all those ugly squiggles ahdfsdfds…

But!! Here’s the fully answered Ailuornymy question list, as requested by anon :D! More below the cut!

Favourite canon warrior name?

Hmm… let’s see… Honestly? Probably Silverstream! I don’t think we get many -stream suffixes anymore and there’s something soooo pretty about her name and the way it flows !!

Least favourite canon warrior name?

Snowbush. There’s something so clunky about the way this dude’s name reads in my head and I don’t know why!!! Also Harrybrook >:(

Warrior you’d most like to rename?

Harrybrook. I just!! It doesn’t sound nice at all please give him a better name :( Best name-change name? One-eye! I’m not sure if she asked for her name change or not, but I’ll admit “One-eye” is a pretty baller sounding name and I love that. Also Deadfoot has a cool name too (though I wish he had asked for that name change rather than saddled with it :/)!

Favourite canon character overall?

Mousewhisker and Hazeltail! They’re two unimportant side characters that don’t really do anything ever but man do I love them with my whole heart <3!

Least favourite canon character overall?

Thistleclaw and Crowfeather. I’ve talked about why I don’t like either of them a lot before so to keep it short they both make me incredibly uncomfortable nor do I enjoy reading about them at all.

Favourite Warriors book?

The Darkest Hour! It was my first Warriors book that I read from the main series (Sasha's manga was the first Warriors book in general and how I got into Warriors), and MAN does it still stick with me! So many scenes from that book are just iconic.

Least favourite Warriors book?

Anything from Dawn Of The Clans honestly :'). I tried so many times to get into reading that arc and I never could get into it -- it just bored me any time I tried. Same for AVoS, eh.

Favourite canon scene or dialogue of all time?

Such a random scene but there’s a scene I think about all the time from Power Of Three where Lionpaw has a nightmare about Hollypaw, and she just playfully (? ominously?) says “I’m going to get you” while hidden in the shadows before turning into a fox and attacking him. I think about it SO much…...

Favourite canon leader of all time?

Crookedstar, followed closely by Tallstar! I love them….

Character you think deserved better?

SO, SO MANY. IT’S UNREAL. Hollyleaf didn’t deserve to get killed off the VERY NEXT BOOK after she came back to ThunderClan, Snowkit didn’t deserve to get killed off just to push Speckletail into the nursery, Nightcloud didn’t deserve… literally anything she got both in canon and how the authors and fandom demonized her, Honeyfern…. Silverstream… the list goes on really :’/

Character you’d like to see “morally” flipped (made “bad” or made “good”)?

Leopardstar, kinda?? But not like. Morally flipped? I guess? I just mean I wish they had gone more into her redemption arc and why she allied herself with Tigerstar besides just “oh she was in love with him”. So it’s not that I wish she was morally flipped, but I wish they went more into her morality because she’s soo vague as it is (and, frankly, maybe I’m biased because I like her but I would’ve loved to see her overcome her initial prejudice or perhaps work for forgiveness for her Clan - perhaps her alliance with Tigerstar was out of worry for the entirety of her Clan since she saw him as the strongest cat and not just… because she “loved” him). Same for Breezepelt, honestly! They kept dancing between “he’s a troubled son of a negligent/abusive father” and “he’s evil :)” and personally? As a child of a negligent father who also abandoned me, it would’ve been way more … I’m not sure WHAT the word I’m looking for is but I think Breezepelt’s story would’ve been better if they focused on making him a troubled teen of a negligent, bad father and actually embraced Crowfeather being an antagonist in PO3 instead of not wanting to make him look bad. It’s just weird the erins flip flop between “this character is evil” and “this character is ok” so much it’s FRUSTRATING :/

Favourite AU (alternate universe) concept?

Answered here!

Warrior code rule you think is best?

Always help a kitten in need, no matter their heritage! I know that’s not the exact wording but anyways. Perhaps I’m biased because I, in general, don’t like reading about child death (I know it happens and I can handle it in some plots but sometimes it’s just so excessive), but in general I think it’s one of the best and genuinely helpful code laws, especially because kittens always deserve a chance at life. I think the second best rule would be the one that states a warrior does not need to kill to win a battle, because I think that adds a lot more depth (potentially) to how warriors value the lives of others and creates a bigger scene? scandal? when someone is killed in battle versus dying of wounds later on. It also, again, keeps the youngsters like apprentices safe!

Warrior code rule you think shouldn’t exist/should be changed?

If you know me, you won’t be surprised because it’s the same answer as always: the leader’s word is law. I’ve spoken a lot about that code before and even have a comic about its flaws, so I won’t go into it too much here, but I just think it’s a recipe for disaster.

Describe your ideal vision of Starclan/clan afterlife.

Hmmm let’s see… my ideal vision of StarClan/clan afterlife would be a little bit like what it’s like in canon at the moment but with a few twists. I think the borders would dissolve in StarClan so there’d be less in-fighting (though I imagine, after growing up your whole life hating your neighbors, a lot of cats have a hard time getting used to the no-boundary life-style of StarClan, and a lot of young/new spirits tend to stick within their own Clan cliques before venturing out and meeting former members of other Clans. Older spirits would be the ones most used to interacting with former members of other Clans). I think there’d be sections that mimic the corporeal Clan’s territories in theme, but with different landmarks and such so that new spirits have a new world to explore. I’d also take away the fading aspect because I don’t really think that’s… fair? I guess? It’s weird to me but I’d prefer not to go into it. I’d also make it so that there’s no great wisdom to these cats - or, at least, the wiser StarClan spirits are the ones that have been around for as long as anyone can remember. They wouldn’t be able to interfere with the living as much in canon and can only really visit medicine cats, or possibly leaders, in dreams; anyone else has to go to the sacred area to commune with the dead. Not sure what else though! This is just kind of a general idea.

Traditional or non-traditional naming. Thoughts?

I think both have their merits! While I prefer traditional naming systems because I enjoy seeing the way people develop suffix meanings and assign well-known meanings to them (and even connotations!), plus it helps me personally assign even the smallest trait to a side character so they feel just a little more real, I see why people would enjoy non-traditional naming systems as it does give more breathing room for individual name creation. Also, I’m not gonna lie, there’s some gorgeous lyrical names out there that flow beautifully. My heart will always belong to traditional naming, though, I think.

If traditional: What non-traditional suffix would you include in your system? If non-traditional: What’s your favourite canon suffix?

Traditional! I actually have included some non-traditional suffixes in my system, just for variety! But those are: -throat, -pool, -belly, -fern, -bee, -berry, -chirp, and -tooth, for example. There’s actually quite a few more but I don’t wanna list every single addition shfbd!

Best thing about the clan system as a concept in your opinion?

Hard to pick, honestly! But I do think the best thing about clans as a system is their unity; they’re a little society that has each other’s backs, and the care for young and elderly a lot is touching!

Favourite Warriors fanfiction (or fanfiction writer)?

HA this might be an obvious answer, but 100% solacefruit on ao3 (also: @/ailuronymy and @/burnt-sycamore on tumblr!). His worldbuilding is to die for and there’s something so charming and attention grabbing about his writing style that always has me waiting for the next update. Seriously, probably one of my biggest writer inspirations.

Favourite Warriors fanartist (includes animators)?

Answered here!

Most interesting villain?

Mapleshade and Sol, honestly. I’ve rambled about Mapleshade before, I think, but I think her story could have had a lot of potential to call out the misogyny and bias of StarClan and the code, and how mollies are often punished harsher than the toms for their code-breaking. Her story also features how weird the warriors are with the warrior code - it’s like they cherry pick what they want to believe? Oakstar sends three innocent kittens out of the Clan, presumably to die (which they do), despite the code speaking to never endanger a kitten’s life no matter their heritage, and no one ever questions him, or the rest of ThunderClan, for standing by to watch kittens die? Even Frecklewish outright stated she watched the kittens die and did nothing about it. Why? Why was everyone okay with punishing Mapleshade for breaking a rule of the code but no one questioned Oakstar or anyone else in ThunderClan for kicking out the kits alongside Mapleshade, when it was Mapleshade’s crime and not the kits? And why doesn’t Appledusk get punished or ostracized by his clanmates as severely as Mapleshade did? It had a lot of potential but it’s just a mess. Anyways - onto Sol. Another interesting concept kinda messed up by the Erins. In general, I really love villains that are just nuisances at best and no real threat - kind of like Heinz Doofenshmirtz - and with Sol’s backstory being the way it was, he was the perfect opportunity to have him be this little antagonistic shithead who, while annoying and causing problems, wasn’t actually a serious threat, and he of all villains would have had the best shot at redemption I think.

Favourite canon clan?

RiverClan! I love their aesthetic, their territory, and their general vibes. In love with water-based places <3!!

What would you ask Erin Hunter, if you could?

“Would you hand the series off to a new team of writers?” All good series must come to an end, but with Warriors being as broad as it is, I think this is a series where spin offs can be made and still thrive - just not with the current author staff we have at the moment. There’s lots of people with amazing, creative ideas for Warriors, and I know this is just a fantasy at best, but I would love to see a new writing team take over and weave brand new stories and worldbuilding with it in spin-offs. Hell, even I’d love to take a crack at publishing a Warriors spin off, but, again, it’s a fantasy at best.

Top five prefixes (canon or otherwise)?

Sorrel-, Chub-, Mink-, Rose-, and Vervain- (you can tell I like these prefixes considering these are all prefixes of characters featured in my webcomic besides Sorrel-, which is used for my wcsona’s name ha!) Honorable mentions to: Black- (or any color based prefix like Yellow-, Red-, Ginger-, Blue-, Gray-, White-, etc. I don’t know why but I’m fond of them), Beetle-, and Fidget- (which isn’t a traditional prefix, but I think it’s cute hehe.)

Top five suffixes (canon or otherwise)?

Just narrowing down for traditional because I need a smaller pool to pick from habdfsd but! -face, -flower, -stripe, -storm and -nose!

If you were on Drunk Warriors Rants, what would you talk about?

I have no idea what Drunk Warriors Rants is actually but I’m assuming it’s something where you get drunk and rant about warrior cats so… I would absolutely rant about Hollyleaf and mainly the wild mischaracterization the fandom has made of her break down and the murder of Ashfur. It irks me to no end how so many people have pushed this weird concept that Hollyleaf was aware her parents were Crowfeather and Leafpool when she murdered Ashfur to the point that most people I talk to genuinely don’t realize this, because not only does it just make so sense narratively but I feel like it really does take away from the depth that is her character. I think Hollyleaf is one of the few characters we get, like, an actual depth to, who is developed beyond “typical protagonist with love interest”, and has an interesting arc, downfall, and redemption. When she killed Ashfur, she was totally unaware that Leafpool and Crowfeather were her parents - in fact, the entirety of Sunrise is about Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze trying to figure out who their parents are, so I honestly don’t know where this whole “Hollyleaf knew about her heritage when she killed Ashfur” thing came from. It really ruins her arc by making her out to be some nonsense cat who killed to keep a secret she spilled anyways, and not a cat who killed to keep a secret she didn’t fully understand yet, who then completely unraveled once she discovered the origins and how her existence completely went against everything she was raised to believe in.

What would your warrior name be?

Pretty obvious answer but my warrior name would be Sorrelstream! Or possibly Sorrelstripe, but I lean towards Sorrelstream. I love to swim a lot actually but I wouldn’t say I’m a particularly strong or skilled swimmer but hey… It’s my warriors sona and I get to give him one (1) skill.

Bonus questions:

Describe your favourite original Warriors characters!

HONESTLY this question is a little tough because I have such a huuuge cast of original warrior characters it’s hard to narrow down! I’d say if you’re interested in hearing more about my ocs or seeing them in action to check out my @/roseface blog, which is dedicated to my wc comic, or check out my ao3 account (kiittenteeth) because I’ll probably be posting warriors-centric original character stories there soon!

Describe your original Warriors clans!

Heyyy fun fact! I’m actually working on a small novel fanfic (only about ten chapters long) featuring my fanclans! They’re a group of four Clans set in an abandoned gated neighborhood/area - FernClan (located in the local abandoned mall), PondClan (located in the abandoned golf course), GleamClan (located in the local abandoned restaurant/diner), and FieldClan (located in the abandoned K-12 academy school). I won’t go too much into them here since I want to explore their worldbuilding in my fic, but keep an eye out for them when I drop the first chapter of Ribs!

Talk about your feelings about the Warriors series!

Oh man. A lot. The series itself is… disappointing, at best, but I’m awfully attached to it no matter how many times I try to break away from it. It was my biggest media interest growing up (keyword: media), so it’s a pretty big part of me and the way I grew up. Plus I met a good chunk of my friends through warrior cats related areas, so :’)!!! It’s a series that despite all its flaws is incredibly close to me but I’m mainly here to read everyone’s fan content because MAN does the fan content go above and beyond!

(Asked by @/whocares-idont) What’s your opinion on fan made Clan pantheons?

I LOOVE fan made Clan pantheons actually! Mythology was always something I loved learning about as a kid, and I’m particularly fond of the worldbuilding people make for the Warriors setting. I feel like creating a pantheon and mythos tied to it adds to the depth of the world and makes it all the more interesting and realistic, especially since mythology is such a huge part of so many cultures, both ancient and modern one. I think creating pantheons really adds to the setting people make with warriors, and, honestly, they’re always really fun to read about!!

#yes i did this instead of working on season change pages dshfbsdfds didnt feel like drawing today #nor have i felt like drawing in the past UHHH [checks watch] 3 days. oops!#anyways :)!! anon who requested this i hope u enjoy :D!#long post

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wordsinwinters · 5 years

Text

Then Again, Part 25 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 47,470

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 26,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 25:

(Words: 3,948)

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The thought of Peter making more of an effort, of him consciously choosing to pay me closer attention with the active intention of improving our friendship-- it isn’t the worst idea. If anything, it’s a rather attractive solution to a nonexistent problem. The suggestion alone is already prompting imaginary scenarios I refuse to acknowledge right now; though, inevitably, they’ll become daydream fuel within a couple days. Still, the whole plan is unnecessary, and I know it. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may have a few questions (some I plan on asking, some I’ll keep to myself), but if I do have any hidden resentment for his behavior stowed away in my subconscious, it’s as small and inconsequential as a handful of sand in the sea. Allowing him to carry this plan out would be using him. The pretenses would be false.

Even apart from that, though, his texts gave off an odd, metallic aftertaste. The proposal reads mechanically-- it’s a scientific study with a simple hypothesis (and a reluctant dependent variable). It’s the idea of being a lab mouse, I think, that earns it the title the dumbest thing in my mind. It’s condescending. Even if tempting.

Then again, I know Peter. I understand he doesn’t actually view me as a test subject to analyze and discard after the results come in. We’re friends. He feels bad and tossed out a poorly worded solution because he thinks I’m secretly pissed at him. It’s only an idea he offered, one I have full power to reject.

Maybe I’m trying to dismiss it quickly because, if I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Selfishly, I want to say yes despite knowing the sort of negative message it would send to Peter. A small part of me is willing to let him feel worse so I can pretend his own guilty feelings are more significant than they really are. The possibility, the mirage just within reach, of balancing that tightrope between reality and fantasy with him is... alluring, to say the least.

And impossible. It would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would be.

Like blades slicing fruit in a blender, my brain whips through these thoughts within seconds. Across on her bed, Michelle’s expression can only be described as disapproving or faintly disgusted as she too digests Peter’s idea. It’s the male stupidity is endless look we share when near particularly annoying men in public. It’s not often one we have to exchange in reference to the boys; their moronic moments tend to be entertaining rather than obnoxious, ignorant, or misogynistic.

She meets my eyes, and I wonder if my face gives anything away.

“That feels weird to me.”

The sentence is a verbal tiptoe forward, an almost-question probe.

“It did sound weird saying it out loud,” I agree.

“You know,” she says, her tone mildly serious as she sits up straighter. “You’re not obligated to say yes to everything because you don’t want to disappoint someone. Especially a boy. And especially if he’s trying to fix his dumb mistakes by pressuring you into something you’re not comfortable with.” She pauses, glancing at the ceiling and raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can make him come to his senses.”

Michelle tightens her fists and mimes three exaggerated punches. I imagine it, amused: Before the bite, Peter wouldn’t have stood a chance against her if she really meant it; now, he’d probably put his arms up to block her blows, minimally annoyed, and wait for her to tire herself out. I roll my eyes and can’t help mirroring her smile.

Nevertheless, her wording is….

The same question pops up for the millionth time.

Do I want her to know?

“It’s Peter, it’s not, like, ‘a boy,’” I say first, air quoting the last words. Maybe later, depending. But for now, I’ll avoid it. “And I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m not uncomfortable and he isn’t being pushy or anything. I only meant that the…” nearly impersonal approach to our personal relationship? “the hyperconscious wording is weird. I wouldn’t turn down free snacks if the offer wasn’t described as a….” situation in which he views us as mere associates or abstract friends--

Again, I remind myself he probably doesn’t see it that way.

“Monitored social experiment with unequal power dynamics?” she offers.

That fits.

“Precisely.”

She snorts. Shaking her head, Michelle pauses for a few more seconds. Mentally chewing it all over again, her expression bounces from annoyance to curiosity to neutrality to annoyance again to what looks surprisingly close to compromise or understanding. In the meantime, I focus on watching her facial journey and not thinking.

In the tune of surrender, she sighs before she speaks.

“I’m sure he’s trying his best,” she says reluctantly, her hands opening outward like a shrug, “his best is just bad. If it were anyone else, I’d tell you to refuse and block them. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I think we both know him too well to think his motives are as stupid as his phrasing. If anything, he’s probably excited about his ‘new genius friendship plan.’”

Nodding, relief hums under my skin: I know she’s right. I mean, how many people would fight crime to protect countless strangers in their city, then turn around and have cold, detached views of their chosen, personal friends?

“That’s true,” I say. “I should probably text him back, then.”

She holds up a finger as I reach for my phone.

“Still,” she adds with a tone of subtle authority, “it’s up to you. I’m not saying you should say yes -- no obligations, remember? -- I just don’t think you need to worry that he isn’t trying or isn’t being genuine. That’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Michelle’s stare lasts a moment longer, her sincerity as visible and certain as the brown of her eyes. After a second or two, she sits back onto her pillows and relaxes, turning to face the t.v. once again, leaving me to work out my final decision on my own. As I allow myself to reiterate my own arguments in my head, the Cullen family discusses the mythology of half human, half vampire fetuses with Jacob.

It doesn’t take me long to reach a conclusion. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty tired, but the answer seems obvious, straightforward and simple in logic. I unlock my phone with the feeling Michelle knows exactly what I’m about to type. I begin to write the message I had settled on before: “I’ll think about it.” Simple and honest. And temporary.

But then something else pops into my brain, and, foolishly, I write that instead.

“What about you? Do you need new reasons to be around me?”

I send the text without a moment’s reflection. Rereading it, it sounds a little… coded, to say the least. Like a Freudian slip. Don’t overthink it. God, I hate Freud. But it does sound desperate. And awkward. Damn. It definitely does. It reminds me of the embarrassing things I used to post on social media in middle school, which I really shouldn’t think about either.

I only wondered if the idea should go both ways. Instead, the message sounds insecure... which I am, I suppose, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Bubbles appear on his side. I resist the urge to send a series of backpedaling messages. They disappear. Again. My self control dissipates and I quickly send the original one: I’ll think about it.

Unthinking, I pull the small keychain out of my pocket as I wait for his reply and massage the edge. Sticking the pointed corner into my thumbpad, I accidentally dig it in harder than intended. And I realize something.

The keychain was the first. The gifts or incentives or things.

A flat click of a nearby door closing snaps my attention. The boys’ room? Glancing up, I see flash of Edward pleading with Jacob on the t.v. screen, and to my left, a shadow stepping up to the door. A gap in the golden line of outside light.

For half a minute, nothing happens. Aside from Rosalie shouldering past Jacob as he walks in to speak to Bella. After that, when it does come, the sound is soft.

Knock. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

It’s Peter. Ned’s knocking pattern is shorter.

The sound jolts my heart rate a smidge, like a phantom defibrillator.

Michelle’s head rolls to one side to stare at the hallway, her shoulders slumped in an I’m giving up posture.

“That’s very obviously for you,” she says, pushing herself up and tossing the Twizzler bag on the nightstand, “so I’ll let you go deal with it. I think I’ll brush my teeth and get ready for bed.” She hops off the mattress, raises her arms, and stretches them from side to side. “You okay if we call it a night?”

“More than okay,” I say, standing up as well, the carpet cool under my toes. Once I speak to Peter, I’ll need to knock out. Otherwise my brain will spiral. And maybe, if all goes well, my dreams tonight will be better than staying up to snicker at this hilariously shitty movie. “But what if it is for you?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell them I’m gone. Missing, dead, whatever.” Michelle clamps her eyes shut and sticks her tongue out to mimic cartoonish death. Then she pops back to life with a fake warning glare. “So long as no one bothers me.”

She hits the off button on the remote, Jacob and Bella dissolving into nothing, and as she trudges to the bathroom, I slip the keychain and a keycard back into my pocket before copying her arm stretch to calm my buzzing nerves. Michelle salutes me before turning and closing the bathroom door. I walk to the hallway’s. The handle is cold to the touch.

I swing it open. As expected: Peter. The empty space surrounding him is relatively quiet, only muffled laughter and television sounds coming from rooms at the opposite end. The air smells like linens, cleaning supplies, and artificial lavender. This too is as expected: the typical, sanitary comfort of staying in a nice hotel at night. I tell myself it’s a calming environment.

Peter’s in his usual pajamas, an old beat up t-shirt and sweatpants, standing slightly to the left, hands clasped in front of him. His height drops a tiny bit at the sound of the door, like he was rocking from heel to toe a second ago, and as his eyes lift from the floor to meet mine, he smiles. A warm swooping sensation envelops my stomach.

“Hey! You answered.”

He almost sounds surprised. I make a face in response.

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

I mean this as a joke, a reference to the couple late nights he’s shown up at my door (window, really) to clean or patch himself up before going home. As he knows, I’m not in the habit of shutting him out.

Still, his head tilts and his eyebrows go up into an expression of, Well, you weren’t exactly answering me before. It isn’t a challenging or upset look. If anything, it’s almost flustered.

“Fair enough,” I concede, lukewarm guilt sticking in my throat. “I was thinking about it though, I promise, I just hadn’t decided for sure yet.”

He nods, fidgeting with his fingernails and momentarily glancing at the floor.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, looking back up. His ears redden. “I, uh, phrased it pretty moronically. Or at least that’s what Ned said.”

He takes a step or two back, closer to his door. It seems like an invitation to make the conversation more private, so I close mine and Michelle’s and step forward.

“All I meant,” he continues, his hands rolling over one another in gesture, “was that I thought it might be helpful if I did a few nice things for you when we get back. Not like I’m actually trying to condition you, like a, like a--”

“Dog?”

His hands halt and his face pinches into an expression that practically reads I am painfully aware of every mistake I have ever made and how the number continues to grow in marker across his forehead. His eyes retain a lightness though, the sort that suggests he’s able to laugh about it. He runs his right hand through his hair. Mine twinges.

“Exactly. I feel like that makes it seem kind of, um--”

“Bad?”

“Very bad,” he confirms, nodding. He takes a deeper breath, half smiling in an embarrassed, self pitying way. “I honestly forgot about that Pavlock stuff, I was just trying to use psych terms to make it sound more persuasive and, um, I don’t know, impressive?”

He shrugs and offers an I know I’m an idiot, but thank you for being patient smile. I bite my tongue against correcting Pavlov, which he seems incapable of pronouncing properly. Even when we studied for that exam, he only said it properly a handful of times, despite Michelle flicking bits of paper at him each time he said Pavlock.

I smile too, noting the irony. And I think of what she said: he’s trying his best, his best is just bad. It doesn’t seem so bad when he’s standing in front of me, though. If anything, it’s easy.

“You mean,” I begin to ask, more to tease than to clarify, “as opposed to the highly offensive and disagreeable, ‘Hey, I want to make up for being a jerk, so I’m going to stash some snacks for you in my locker’?”

He bites his lip as if it’ll keep his grin pinned down, though it doesn’t really. A blush spreads across his cheekbones and for a split second, he looks away to the other end of the hall. When he looks back, his smile falters, just a little. The vulnerability reminds me of his apology last night, when he thought I was sleeping.

“I was thinking maybe it’d be more than snacks?” he offers. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t really have it figured out yet, but hanging out a bit more? Movie nights or that sort of thing? Or if you have a lot of homework, we could study together and help each other stay focused?”

That last suggestion seems like an oxymoron. Study together to keep ourselves on track? It’s a laughable concept. Well, only if it’s--

“Just us?”

Peter freezes, his shoulders straightening slightly, his height rising a few millimeters.

That is the central question, though. Whether it’s a positive or negative point toward my decision, I can’t tell. All the same, it’s been ages since we last tried studying together, just the two of us. It works best with Michelle and Ned there as well, seeing as we tend to get distracted.

His eyes move quickly between mine as if he’s trying to read my thoughts before answering. He squints.

“Is that okay?” he asks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I understand if not, if it’s uncomfortable or--”

I shake my head, putting my hand on his arm to stop him, only realizing it when his eyes flicker to that hand.

“Of course not,” I say, removing it. “I mean, of course it’s okay. We’ve hung out without Ned and MJ tons of times before. It’s been a while but it’s no big deal. That’d be fine.”

“Okay, good!” he says, the tension in his body evaporating. “That’s great!”

His eyes have lit up. I imagine he’s relieved those two won’t be around the whole time to make fun of his movie choices or whatever he has planned. I try to hold a smile to reassure him and clear his doubts while internally pinching myself to remember to not think too much on this. There’s no need to dust off those old, useless daydreams of movie nights and falling asleep on his shoulder with his head atop mine and May lightly laying a blanket across us and all the rest. Absolutely no need. Shut it down.

He runs a hand through his hair, nodding in a way that’s usually accompanied by him saying cool, cool, cool, cool.

“Would Fridays be good for movie nights?”

I barely register the question before I answer it.

“Probably, sure. That should be alright.”

His smile widens and he shakes his head once and continues nodding.

“Perfect! We can have it at my place.”

I nod back, chest tightening as I process. At the same time, I beg my brain not to process. Just for a minute. But then, since I refuse to let them move forward, the gears in my head turn backward, thoughts reeling like a bicycle chain. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, we’re realizing the same thing:

“Wait,” he says carefully. “So you’re saying yes? Like, you’re cool with it? You want to try?”

God help me.

“I suppose so,” I say. At hearing my own answer, a different type of swooping feeling runs from my feet up. The looking over a high balcony type.

“And we’ll figure the rest out later?” he asks.

“Peter, really, if you’re still planning on the locker snacks, that’s more than enough.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, that’s what you think because you’re being lame. And limiting. And--”

“Leaving?”

It’s time, definitely. I’d forgotten how blinding Peter’s excitement and positivity can be without interference. Today has been full enough, I should end this now.

“That’s fair,” he says. “I think Ned rubbed off on me. All that obnoxious energy.”

He shakes his whole body as if ridding himself of said energy and I restrain myself from making a joke about his word choice. Instead, I nod and with an exasperated “Night, Peter,” and step back toward my room. He does the same, heading toward his. Just before he makes to use his keycard, he pivots back.

“Wait! I almost forgot.”

I turn around and he’s closer than before. Peter suddenly looks particularly nervous, his head angled to the side like a question, his hands fumbling over themselves. His cheeks are reddening again too, spreading from his cheeks to his hairline.

“Yeah?”

He steps forward to place himself directly in front of me. His eyes flit a quick path which his hands follow-- they reach out to touch my elbows before jumping up to my shoulders, settling there almost steadily before shooting a little higher to suddenly but gently hold my head. And then he leans over and firmly kisses my forehead. As he pulls away, one hand disappears and the other musses up my hair.

What is he--?

We both take a tiny step back. My pulse pounds as my thoughts blur into nothing but impressions of nonsensical, ridiculous questions my brain won’t dignify with clarity. Peter’s expression is halfway between an apology and.. a dare? His eyes are as wide as I know mine must be, but there’s something playing at his lips. For a second, it feels as though we’re balanced on a challenge neither of us is willing to answer.

The bubble of the moment pops as he shakes his head and gestures vaguely to his and Ned’s room, his floundering arm movements returning him to the strong appearance of embarrassment.

“May,” he blurts, “Aunt May threatened to, uh, um, well, that part’s not really important, if I didn’t pass that along with ‘all her love.’” The red in his face deepens. “Apparently she’s not too happy I didn’t do that last night too.”

Of course. It makes immediate sense. The memory rushes back. She told him to do that to all of us when she dropped us off at the bus that morning. I might laugh at my own stupid shock and poor memory but I can’t seem to manage it.

“Do you want me to get MJ too?” I ask, realizing May likely demanded that he make the rounds. Maybe this is what started that play fight between him and Ned tonight. Either Ned dodged it or made a joke about wishing May were there to do it herself.

It clicks together.

“What?” He looks lost, his head tilted to the side, brow knotted up. “What do you mean?”

“Unless, do you want me to pass it along from May?”

The realization hits across his face. He shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no, no, she’d probably kill me if I tried to do that to her. But, I mean, if you want to pass it along-- or just tell her to lie if May asks. She probably won’t, honestly, but, you know, just in case.”

His shrug and half smile are practically helpless. May ought to have more mercy on him. And me.

“Alright.” A grin breaks over my face in a way I don’t quite understand and can’t stop. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Right. Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Peter.”

Rather than stepping back, as intended though, I rush forward. Involuntarily, or at least I’ll pretend, since it’s just as surprising to me as it is to him, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. Or try to. It happens too quickly to register fully, but I’m almost positive I knick the corner of his mouth? That would definitely be unintentional.

“ThatwasforMay,” I explain, stumbling backward. Seeming to sense it, Peter grabs my arm to steady me before I trip outright. He releases his grip and stares, stunned.

If I thought his eyes were wide earlier, it turns out they can open much wider. His pupils are comically blown open.

“What?” he asks, seeming concerned. “What was that? I, uh, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“That was, um, that was for May. You know, in exchange.”

That’s perfect. For the first time in a while, my brain saves me.

His face, though still flushed red, relaxes.

“You’ll see her tomorrow,” he points out. “Like, we’ll all see her at the same time. It’d be kind of pointless to pass that on, wouldn’t it?”

Shit. My brain is useless.

“Then, uh… keep it?”

His facial muscles twitch as if he’s glitching between a smile and bewilderment. Then a flint of mischief.

“Unless,” he says slowly, “you want me to pass it along to Ned?”

“And it’s official,” I say, resisting the urge to smack him. “Goodnight!”

He grins as near as he ever gets to a smirk (a term I associate too closely to ass-hattery to assign to him) and I turn to my room as he repeats it back.

We both step to our doors and open them. I glance back just in time to see him practically jump into his room with a speed that reminds me he’s a superhero, even if he’s an idiot. Filled with tangled emotions, I pause, listening or waiting or catching my breath. I only need a moment.

Behind his and Ned’s door, there’s a sudden crash, a sound like leaping bedsprings and something smashing, immediately followed by Peter groaning and Ned’s mocking laughter. Right before I go to my own room, I hear Peter’s exasperated voice: Shit! Dude, can you help me fix it?

The room is dark when I slip back inside but the alarm clock shines enough red to see vague outlines of the walls and dressers and beds. Legs slightly numb, I stumble my way to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. It only takes a couple minutes, distracted as I am.

I slip into the blankets of my bed. The warm body heat next to me can only mean one thing: Michelle.

It’s just one of those unspoken things.

Next update: God only knows.

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

After 6000 Years, This Is Where We Begin (Rated PG)

(Some after wedding bliss, featuring my personal head canon that they get married at the Globe Theater and featuring the Queen song ‘You Take My Breath Away’)

You can reduce me to tears With a single sigh Please don’t cry anymore Every breath that you take Any sound that you make Is a whisper in my ear I could give up all my life for just one kiss I would surely die If you dismiss me from your love You take my breath away

Aziraphale smiles when Crowley holds him tighter, singing to himself at the start of the next verse.

So please don't go Don't leave me here all by myself I get ever so lonely from time to time

Crowley seems so calm, so at peace, so far removed from the demon Aziraphale knows, the one that feels every emotion that passes through his body so completely it tends to overwhelm him.

Here, beneath an indigo sky filled with stars, he’s finally found his bliss.

Aziraphale regrets interrupting it, but in a few short hours, it’ll be sunrise.

“Crowley, my dear?”

“Hmm-mmm?” Crowley mutters to the tune of the music.

“Everyone’s gone home. Hours ago, as a matter of fact.”

“So they have,” he replies, not lifting an eyelid to check.

“And the managers are going to want their theater back.”

“Probably.” Crowley rests his head further into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, his breath ghosting his skin.

“Maybe we should leave, too? Get along home and put ourselves to bed?”

“No,” Crowley says without pause.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chuckles.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley mimics. “How often do we get to dance like this, hmm? Alone underneath the stars?”

“We’ll find the time. I promise. It’ll be easier now. Besides, we’re not exactly alone.” Aziraphale catches sight of what’s left of the staff (the losers of a ‘straw draw’ Aziraphale saw them at earlier) seated at a table off to the corner playing cards while they wait for the happy couple to leave. The more understanding of the lot either ignore them or smile as they waltz by. One or two throw them glares of pure venom. “We’ll be living in your flat. There’s plenty of room to dance there. And we can miracle up some stars. If I recall correctly, you used to be pretty good at that sort of thing.”

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s steps slow, feels him frown against his neck, exhaling so deeply he flattens against Aziraphale’s body. Holy God above, does he wish he’d kept his mouth shut! Of all the things to bring up, and on this day in particular! It’d been perfect up till now!

Crowley was right. For a clever angel, he really could be quite stupid.

Aziraphale holds his breath, waiting for his demon to react – for him to pull away with a monotone, “Okay, then. Let’s run along home,” and lead him off to his Bentley, hands shoved in the pockets of his tuxedo trousers.

But he doesn’t.

He threads the fingers of his right hand with his angel’s left, his pinkie searching for, and finding, the band on Aziraphale’s ring finger. With a contented sounding exhale his smile returns, and in that moment, everything seems right with the world again.

“You’re the only miracle I need, angel. The only star in my sky.”

Aziraphale’s heart stutters – at the sentiment, its meaning, and the softness of his demon’s voice. “That’s rather romantic of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe I am a little.”

“You don’t see me as a romantic?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s more that … you’re a romantic in actions, not so much words.”

“Well, then – in the spirit of active romance, I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yup. I’m still a demon. Deals are what demons do.”

“All right. What’s the deal then?”

“Call me by my full name, angel, and I might consider going with you.”

“Your full name?” Aziraphale asks, confused.

“A-ha.”

“Who are you taking your cues from, then? Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Strike one.”

Aziraphale’s nose scrunches as he tries to determine what in the world Crowley is talking about. “Do you mean Anthony? Oh …” he groans “… you’re not still going on about that now, are you?”

“You’re just gonna have to try it and find out.”

“Oh, Lord.” Aziraphale shakes his head. “O-kay. Anthony Crowley, would you do me the honor of accompanying me home?”

Crowley snickers. “No. Because that’s not it, angel.”

Another soft groan from his angel has Crowley smirking.

“Anthony J Crowley?”

“Try again.”

Aziraphale racks his brain, trying to solve this riddle before sun up so that the tired group gathered in the corner can finally go home and get some rest. But when the answer occurs to him, thoughts of anyone but his husband siphon swiftly away. “Anthony J Crowley … Fell?”

Crowley smiles, and kisses his husband on the forehead. “That’s it.”

“I---I thought I would be going by Aziraphale Crowley now, if we decided to change our names at all.”

Crowley shrugs. “I think Crowley Fell makes more sense.”

“It sounds like a sentence,” Aziraphale says sadly. “One that’s a little too on the nose, as they say. I was afraid that it might bring back bad memories.”

“It does,” Crowley admits, “but I can’t keep running from my past. I mean, it’s been over 6000 years. I should start thinking about getting over it. Don’t you agree?”

“I would understand if you didn’t.”

“You know, Aziraphale, things didn’t end too badly for me after I fell.”

Aziraphale tilts his head questioningly. “How do you mean?”

“I got tossed out of Paradise in Heaven, but I found it again here on Earth. With you.”

Crowley looks down at his angel as Aziraphale looks up, their eyes meeting in between. Crowley stares at him long, lovingly even with those serpent eyes that seemed so inhuman to Aziraphale at first – a bright and blaring indicator his demonic magic couldn’t hide that he was who he was.

Evil.

They’re a warning for anyone who happens to see not to be fooled by his handsome exterior, as something truly wicked lies beneath.

But now, Aziraphale can’t imagine Crowley without them. It would be odd to see him with brown eyes. Or green. Aziraphale has tried to picture it before, unsuccessfully. The Crowley that Aziraphale knows – the one who has followed him through history, teased him, cajoled him, saved him, and then, finally, proclaimed his love for him, couldn’t look more lovely, more human, if he tried than he does in this moment. Aziraphale’s cheeks go pink beneath Crowley’s stare, but he can’t look away.

He doesn’t want to miss a thing about this moment.

“H-how long is all this romantic talk going to last, do you think?”

“Don’t know. But you should soak it up while you have the chance. Just in case.”

“I guess I should do. I do admit, I like how Crowley Fell sounds, but I like the idea of taking your name, too. Call me old fashioned, I guess.”

“We can always switch. We’ve switched bodies before, why not names?”

“True.”

The song ends and a new song begins. The tempo shifts, becomes upbeat, and Crowley spins Aziraphale quickly. He yelps at the change in speed, giggling with the giddy feeling of sailing the night air in the safety of his husband’s arms. When they return to the dance, however, he notices one young lady at the table has fallen asleep, head resting on her crossed arms. He knows she has children – 8, 6, and 3 – being watched by their dad while she works. He remembered overhearing something about the three-year-old being sick, and that the other two had to wake up early for school in the morning. If that’s her life, what about everyone else’s?

It tugs at his heart.

Plus, selfishly, he doesn’t want their wedding reception to be the thing these nine strangers curse come sunrise.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“The least we can do is help tidy up the place. That way, when we do leave these poor overworked and underpaid people to their tasks, they won’t have that to contend with.”

“Why? We paid for them to clean up. Not us.”

“Yes, and your silliness has caused them to miss their buses and trains.”

Crowley stops dancing. He looks at the staff layered at the table, two more in the process of putting their heads down for some shuteye, one nodding off sitting straight up, and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, all right then.”

Crowley snaps his fingers. The nine people at the table disappear without a sound. Aziraphale looks around in alarm.

“Wha---where did you send them?”

“I sent them home.”

“Whose home?” Aziraphale pictures them stuffed into some random one room flat, the first Crowley could think of, solely for the purpose of getting them out of the way.

“Their homes. They’re all fast asleep in their beds, dreaming about whatever they like best. As far as they’re concerned, they’ve been there since eleven. A reasonable time. Plus, they’ve each got themselves a hefty tip for the time we’ve wasted. I thought you’d like that.”

“I do.”

“Good. Now can we keep dancing?”

“And how long do you intend to keep dancing?” Aziraphale asks, though the answer no longer concerns him much seeing as the exhausted staff have been properly seen to.

“I don’t know. Till the stars fall out of the sky?”

“That sounds about right.” Aziraphale smiles, resting his head against his husband’s shoulder, melting back into the sway of slow dancing together, without a care in the world. “Of course, tours of the theater start at 9:30, so …”

“Shut it, angel.”

#Good Omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #frankie writes

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strwbrryeos · 6 years

Text

Boy Meets You (M) [R]

Requested by anon. Thank you for the inspiration! I really enjoyed writing this!

SUMMARY; It’s a crush. A simple crush. He has a girlfriend. You’re not going to act on it. Why would you? Hoseok, however, isn’t as strong. There’s something about you. A tug. A pull. A desire. You’re his temptation.

Genre : smut, angst, slow burn, fanfiction, au

Pairing : Reader x Jung Hoseok

Contains : dom!Hoseok, cheater!Hoseok, protected sex, rough sex, oral, blowjob, fingering, finger fucking, dirty talk, like a lot of dirty talk, hand job, teasing

MASTER LIST

When Hoseok dances, it’s the only thing he thinks about in the moment. The way the rhythm pulses around him; the way the music rings in his ears; the way his body moves without him really having to think about it because dancing just is.

But most of all, he loves not having to think about you. You, this wonderful, beautiful temptation. Everything that he can’t have. Everything that he needs to resist. But, God, do you have to make it so hard?

He watches you in the studio; you type away on your laptop furiously, and your eyebrows are scrunched in the cutest way when you’re concentrating. Every so often you’ll look up to observe your little brother, a student in Hoseok’s class, and Hoseok nearly jumps every time at the prospect of you catching him. You never do though, but Hoseok is pretty sure that your brother has. He’s a clever kid.

Then Hoseok quickly returns to his lesson, enunciating every “Ba! Ba! Ba!” with punctuated body movements that his students are eagerly trying to mimic. “One… two… three… four… Good job! You guys are doing great!” he praises, loving the smiles that grow on the kids’ faces.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Hoseok, too. In fact, you may or may not harbor a small crush on him. Small, but a crush nonetheless. You’ve known him for years, and his sister was a good friend. Your little brother, Chungjae, was head over heels for him though, always saying how much he wanted to be like Hoseok when he’s older. Your parents always teased him for it, but you thought it was endearing.

When the clock strikes five, Hoseok ends his lesson, and Chungjae comes running at you, his face flushed with excitement. “Did you see me? Did you watch? I learned that cool move that I showed you on YouTube!”

“I did see! You’re so great! Soon enough, you’ll be better than Hoseok-ssi!”

Hoseok trots over to you and laughs, stopping beside Chungjae to ruffle his hair. “Yeah, he’ll be teaching the class soon enough!” Chungjae giggles and beams up at him before scampering off to say goodbye to his friends. Hoseok turns to you with a slightly more serious expression. “I’m thinking it’s time for him to move up, though.”

“Is it?”

“Yep,” says Hoseok with a nod, “and unfortunately, this is the highest that I teach. Chungjae’s going to have to get used to a new teacher.”

“Aish, he won’t like that,” you reply, looking over Hoseok’s shoulder to observe your brother. He chatters excitedly with his friends, bringing about bouts of laughter before their parents are ushering them away. “You know he loves you.”

“Yes, I know,” he says sadly, “but what can I do? The kid’s good. He’s already ahead of his classmates, and it’s not like I can teach him and them at the same time.”

“I know but—”

“Baby!” a loud voice interrupts you.

“Oh—mmph!”

You stand there awkwardly as Hoseok and his girlfriend, Eunhae, greet each other, only clearing your throat when things begin to trail away from PG. “Oh, um, sorry,” Hoseok says sheepishly, his hair a little disorderly and his face flushed. A pang of jealousy hits your heart, but it’s gone as quickly as it had appeared, and you smile kindly at Eunhae.

“It’s good to see you.”

“And you! We haven’t caught up in ages! Where’s Chungjae?”

“Oh, he’s somewhere back there. You know him. Sociable as ever.”

“He is,” she giggles. “I hope my kids are as cute as him someday!” Her eyes rake over Hoseok longingly as she says this, but he either doesn’t hear her or pretends he doesn’t.

“Well then,” you say as Chungjae returns. “I’ll see you next time. Hoseok—” His eyes look at you with sparkling interest. “—maybe we can talk later about the classes, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

You take Chungjae by the hand and lead him to the car, unaware of Hoseok’s gaze trailing after you.

—

“So how was class today?”

Chungjae looks at your mother and launches into a story, telling your parents every single gritty detail. He speaks so rapidly that your dad has to tell him to slow down or else he’d choke before he got any food in his mouth.

“Actually,” you interject, “Chungjae’s doing so well that Hoseok thinks he should move up a class.”

“Move up! That’s great!” your mother exclaims with a proud smile.

Chungjae looks at her with a deep frown. “No it isn’t! Then Hoseok won’t be my teacher anymore!”

“Ah, it’s okay!” your dad pipes. “I’m sure you’ll come to love Jimin just the same!”

“But I! Want! Hoseok!” You can’t help but laugh a little, earning a glare from Chungjae. “What are you laughing at? You like him more than I do!”

You nearly choke on your water, and your parents are living for it. “He’s right!” your dad laughs.

“She won’t get to see him anymore!”

“Won’t get to swoon over him anymore!”

“Oh, stop it!” you shout, wishing the scarlet blush on your face away. “He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“Oh, so what? You’re a nice girl too!”

“Yeah, Mom!” you reply sarcastically. “I’m nice, but… but Eunhae is beautiful! And I’m not—I’m not jealous—”

“—well you might be a little.”

“But that doesn’t matter! We’re at different universities studying different things plus our families are… different.”

“Ah, who cares? So they both go to the fancy dance school. We got our own genius over here!”

“Dad, I don’t think studying literature makes me a genius.”

“It certainly does!” interrupts your mom. “I mean, who wouldn’t want you?”

“Hoseok!” you shout angrily. “He doesn’t want me! Now can we please drop the subject?”

“Alright, alright,” replies your father, putting up his hands in defeat. “Why don’t we talk about classes? You’re a great dancer, Chungjae. You should really consider moving up.”

“But I’m only so good because Hoseok teaches me,” he whines.

“You’re good because you’re talented. And so’s Hoseok. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe you can ask him for private lessons if it really means that much to you,” suggests your mom. “And if your sister is willing to drive you.”

Chungjae looks at you eagerly, his eyes pleading. You roll your eyes and sigh in defeat. “If Hoseok is willing to work the extra time.”

“Yay! Thank you! I’ll ask him tomorrow!”

—

Hoseok is never going to say no to Chungjae, nor is he going to say no to the idea of seeing you on weeknights when he wouldn’t otherwise. You sit at the back of the studio, watching the two of them work in front of the mirror that fogs when they get too close. Your fingers tap of their own accord as you observe.

The beat is heavy and it pounds in your ears, but you like it because of how intense it gets. Hoseok and Chungjae step in perfect unison with the same determined expression on their face. When they reach the point of the song that Chungjae no longer knows in the choreography, Hoseok continues on, and both you and your brother watch him with rapt attention.

His arms and hands move like an extension of his body, never missing a beat. Sweat trickles down his body and plasters his hair to his face, but he pays no mind; he’s too focused on falling in time with the chorus. One moment he’s stomping the ground like he might break it, and the next he’s tapping so lightly you can’t even hear it.

He’s so talented, you think. This is why he’s in that school. This is why he’s with Eunhae!

As the songs winds down, he does too, his face softening until nothing meets your ears but silence (and heavy breathing). Chungjae breaks it first. “Wow! That was so cool!”

You say nothing, and your eyes flicker away when Hoseok’s gaze reaches yours. That seems to make him snap out of it, and he quickly turns his attention back to Chungjae. “Now you try.”

Chungjae picks up where he left off under Hoseok’s guidance, and you avert your eyes, trying to think of anything other than that darkly intense look of Hoseok’s when he dances. You instead divert your attention to the cute boy in your class. The one with tanned skin and adorable dimples. Namjoon. Maybe you should call him up…

“Y/N! Hi!”

You look up from your space on the floor to see a smiling Eunhae looking down on you. “Oh, hi, Eunhae! Why don’t you sit?”

“Gladly.”

She takes the space beside you, resting comfortably against the wall as she observes her boyfriend. How does she look so effortlessly beautiful? “He looks good, doesn’t he?” she giggles.

“Oh, um…”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m not gonna go crazy because you compliment him or something.”

“You’re right,” you laugh. “He looks good. Really good.”

“I always tell him he looks best when he’s dancing. Don’t you agree?”

“Definitely.”

She rests her head on her arm and turns to you. “So what about you? Studying literature still?”

“Yep. Yes, I am.”

“And how’s that?”

“Fun. I guess. I mean, not fun like fun like in the sense that you think things are fun but…” you pause at the surprised look on her face. “Sorry! I tend to ramble. I guess I’m just not good at talking about myself.”

“That’s okay! We can talk about something else! What about Hoseok?”

“What about Hoseok?”

“Well I’ve heard that you’ve known him for a while.”

“That’s true. He’s been teaching my brother for years.”

“But, didn’t you know him before?” she asks with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Oh! Oh no! No, never!”

Eunhae can’t help but erupt in laughter at your reaction, earning a couple confused glances from the boys in front of you. “I’m teasing! Sorry, it was just too funny. I heard from Seobin that you liked him once upon a time.”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, way back when. Not like he’d ever go for me, though.”

“No?”

“I mean, he has you!”

“You’re cute,” Eunhae laughs sweetly, “but he’s known you a lot longer than me. Honestly when I first met you, I was surprised you weren’t his girlfriend.”

“I—Really?”

“Oh, sure! You guys get along so well, I just assumed.”

“Ah, well. Not that well,” you reply, embarrassed. “I’m just—I’m not anything he’s looking for. We only knew each other through our parents.”

“You’re not anything he’s looking for?”

“I mean—I’m—Why are we talking about this anyway?” you laugh awkwardly. “I mean, he has you now, right?”

“Oh, I know. I’m just curious, I guess. It’s fun stuff to know sometimes.”

“What is?”

“Well, you’re gonna think badly of me—”

“I won’t.”

“I like knowing stuff about his past. Especially stuff about this girl that he never shuts up about”

You smile at her a bit ruefully, ignoring the gnawing ache in your gut. You weren't about to go on some jealous tangent. The both of them were happy together, and that’s all that mattered. “I guess I’m just… not his type. You’re, well, beautiful. Gorgeous. And you’re a dancer, of course. I could only ever imagine Hoseok ending up with a dancer. A-And from what I hear, you’re very smart too. That’s just… stuff I’ll never be.”

“You know…” you continued. “He didn’t choose me because… because I was never an option.” You added hastily, “Not like you though! Why wouldn’t he choose you? I would’ve chosen you!”

Eunhae smiles at you widely and throws her arms around you. “Oh, you’re so sweet! And don’t you worry, you’ll find someone someday!”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Someday.”

“Are you ready to go?” asks Chungjae from across the room, removing you from your own head. Thankfully. You ignore the look of concern that’s etched across both Hoseok and Chungjae’s faces. They must’ve been more privy to the conversation than you thought.

“‘Course.” You stand up and collect your things. “Ready?”

“Yeah. One sec. Just gonna use the bathroom.”

“Take your time.”

You nod, picking up his bag for him and purposely averting Hoseok’s eyes. You didn’t need his pity. You were fine.

“Hey, Y/N…” his quiet voice began.

Eunhae came up right behind you. “Hi, babe!”

“Um, thanks for the lesson. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Tell Chungjae I’m in the car.”

You might’ve heard an answer if you hadn’t dashed so quickly.

—

The car ride home is mostly silent until Chungjae finally decides to say whatever he’s been contemplating for the past ten minutes. “Just because you’re not a dancer doesn’t mean you’re not good enough!” he shouts somewhat unexpectedly.

You look at him with wide eyes before focusing your attention back on the road. “What are you talking about?”

“Um, Hoseok and I were kind of taking a break when we heard you and Eunhae… talking.”

You shrugged. “Eunhae asked a question. I answered.”

“I-I know we tease you about your crush on Hoseok but—”

“It’s fine, little brother. It’s not a big deal. And it’s not like I’m in a head over heels, madly in love with him type crush. I just like him. I have for a while, but you knew that. And when I found out he liked Eunhae it was fine. They’re dating, and it’s fine. They’re happy.”

“But Hoseok didn’t choose Eunhae because she was… prettier or—”

You laugh bitterly. “Didn’t he? If he thought I were prettier. He’d have chosen me. If he’d thought I were better he would’ve chosen me. But he didn’t. And I’m not about to run around crying about it. It is what it is.” Chungjae looked at you doubtfully. “I’m sorry, though,” you add.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Eunhae would’ve made a better sister.”

—

Hoseok isn’t paying much attention to his girlfriend as he drives her home. She’s chirping at him about a new dance she’s learned, but he can’t bring himself to care at the moment. He’s too busy thinking about you. When he heard you talk about yourself… he wanted to throw something. He shouldn’t feel that way though, and he knows it. Eunhae is everything he’s ever wanted, and he’s everything his family has ever wanted. She’s beautiful, kind, and a wonderful dancer. He’s never been unhappy with her.

But there’s something about you. Something about you that makes him so greedy. You’re beautiful even if you don’t see it. Smart, too, and his father can corroborate that (seeing as he’s the literature professor at your university, and you are his favorite student. Unbeknownst to you, he’s always bragging about your successes at home). Maybe it’s the way you tuck your hair when you’re embarrassed. Maybe it’s the way you smile when your brother shows you something new. Maybe it’s the way you’re always so eager to put literally anyone before yourself. Even then, putting yourself down like that because you knew it would make Eunhae happy.

His fingers curl around the steering wheel a little harshly. “What was that about?” he asks Eunhae, cutting off whatever story she was in the middle of telling.

“W-What?”

“Today. With Y/N. She’s my friend, you know.”

“I know. She’s my friend too. What are you getting at?”

“I just… I don’t understand why you made her say all those things about herself.”

“Made her? I didn’t make her do anything. I asked a question. She answered.”

“What did you ask?”

“I asked why you didn’t choose her.”

“Choose her? What the hell? That’s what she was talking about?”

“Well, yeah! But it’s fine. We had a good laugh about it! She’s so nice, I see why she’s your friend.”

“How can… How can you say that’s fine? I don’t—I don’t understand! Y/N’s probably loathing herself right now and you just—”

“Hoseok!” Eunhae exclaims. “Relax! Geez! If it’ll make you feel better, want me to take her out or something? I’ll make it up to her. But she’s a big girl. I think she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok sighs. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you can make it up to me tonight?”

“What do you have in mind?”

—

“Chungjae!” you shout up the stairs. “If you don’t hurry, we’re going to be late!”

“Yeah, sorry! I’m coming! I just can’t find my…”

“Sweatshirt? It’s down here!”

“Oh!”

Chungjae rushes down the stairs, nearly falling on his face at the last step.

“You won’t be able to dance if you break your face,” you joke as he gathers his balance.

“Ha. Funny! Let’s go.”

When you arrived at the studio, you were surprised to find it with occupants other than Hoseok. “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” your little brother says, “Minho is joining me on this lesson, and then his mom is going to drive us back to his house tonight.”

“You’re sleeping over?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just drop you off then—”

“No!” Chungjae whines. “I mean, you can if you want to, but I was hoping you’d stay and watch. The dance we’re learning is really cool.”

“Ah, okay,” you sigh, knowing full well you could never say no to your brother. He smiles gleefully and sprints to put his stuff down. You take your usual place and watch the dancing commence.

It wasn’t uncommon for Hoseok to meet your eyes every so often; he liked to turn around and say hi. Today was strange, though, for it felt like he was watching you more than his students. He kept turning around as if you’d disappear when he looked away. His eyes were dark, as they usually were when he danced so intensely, but they were laced with a bit of worry too, and you had an uneasy feeling that it was because of you.

After practice, Chungjae and Minho bid both you and Hoseok goodbye, and they hop into Minho’s mother’s van and disappear for the night.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Hoseok,” you say as you prepare to leave yourself.

“Wait.”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Um, can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure? What’s up?” Hoseok looks around nervously. He’s still breathing heavily from the lesson, and he won’t stop twisting and wringing his towel. “Hoseok? I don’t bite, you know.”

“No,” he laughs, “you don’t. Sorry, I guess I just feel kind of awkward.”

“What for? We’ve known each other forever.”

“Well, honestly, I feel awkward about that conversation you had with Eunhae the other day.”

“Eunhae?” you reply with wide eyes. “What about it?”

“I just… I hate the idea that you think so lowly of yourself. And because of me, no less.”

“Ah, Hobi,” you chuckle, using your childhood name for him, “don’t worry about it. I’m not losing all my self-esteem over you. Eunhae was just feeling a little insecure, I guess, and I made her feel better. No harm, no foul.”

“I just…” He pauses to sigh deeply. “How about you come back to my place?”

“What?”

“Yeah. We can do movie nights like we used to when we were in high school.”

“You mean middle school. The last ‘high school’ movie night we had was in our first year. You got too popular for me, remember?” Hoseok looks at you regretfully, and you can’t help but laugh. “I’m teasing. I’d love to come over.”

He’s visibly relieved as he says, “Great. Let me just get my stuff.”

You nod, already walking towards the door. “I’ll meet you there, then.”

“Why don’t I drive you?”

“Well, my car is here. How will I get home?”

“I could drive you.”

“Ah, no, don’t worry. It’ll be easier this way. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.”

Although you’d been to Hoseok’s apartment plenty of times before, you felt nervous this time around. There wasn’t anything particular you could point out, but it had you a little on edge. Maybe because you hadn’t been there since he and Eunhae got together.

“Home sweet home,” Hoseok said upon your arrival.

“Thanks. I haven’t been here in a while.”

“No, I guess you haven’t.” He takes a moment, as if he’s contemplating something. “Hey, you wanna pick out a drink and a movie while I take a quick shower?”

“Sure. Didn’t move the liquor cabinet, did you?”

“Nope. Same place,” he laughs. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

You set up the coffee table with glasses and your favorite assortment of drinks before arranging yourself comfortably on the couch. You hadn’t been there in a while, but he really hadn’t changed much. The only thing that noticeably stood out to you was the new lamp and framed picture of him and Eunhae. It’s cute, what with the way his arm is so carelessly draped over her shoulders as she snaps the picture. You can’t help but smile at it.

“Hey,” says Hoseok, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. His hair is still wet, but he’s changed into a comfortable looking t-shirt. “What do you wanna watch?”

“We can have a Disney movie marathon,” you suggest. “Like we did when we were kids.”

“Only if we watch The Little Mermaid.”

“And Mulan?”

“Of course!”

You pour the drinks while Hoseok sets up the movie, and he takes his place beside you. Although you’re expecting to see an ocean on screen, you’re greeted with the opening sequence to Mulan, and you squeal excitedly and throw your arms around Hoseok. “I feel like I’m ten again,” you laugh in delight.

Your attention moves quickly back to the screen, unaware of how Hoseok observes you. He’s blushing from the hug that you gave him, and his eyes are all too focused on the excited blush that’s painted your cheeks. The alcohol only adds to it, and he thinks it’s better than any makeup you could ever wear. He inches ever so slightly closer to you and relaxes into the movie.

Eventually Hoseok forgets about the way you distract him, and the both of you are fully engrossed in the movie, reliving your childhood years. “LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS,” you shout in unison, “TO DEFEAT… THE HUNS!”

You get up, holding an invisible microphone. “DID THEY SEND ME DAUGHTERS? WHEN I ASKED... FOR SONS?”

“YOU’RE THE SADDEST BUNCH I’VE EVER MET,” Hoseok copies you, “BUT YOU CAN BET BEFORE WE’RE THROUGH....”

“MR. I’LLLLLLL MAKE A MAAAAAAAN OUT OF YOUUUUUUU!”

When the song ends, you’ve collapsed on the couch in a fit of laughter. “Damn, I really am feeling ten again,” he tells you.

“If only your mom were here for all those homemade snacks. Ugh, those cookies were my favorite.”

“Do you mean...” he says, getting up and walking towards the kitchen, “these cookies?” He reveals a large tin box and laughs at your shocked face.

“Yes!” you cry. “Gimme!”

You gleefully and greedily take a handful of the cookies and sit there, munching as happily as you did when you were younger. “Well geez, leave some for me,” he scolds.

“Open wide!” You playfully feed him a cookie, but when his tongue darts out to lick the crumbs off your finger, you’re awkwardly returning to the battle versus the Huns. Hoseok seems to be completely unfazed and takes his place next to you, not minding the scarlet tint to your face.

“Want another drink?” he asks.

“Please,” you reply with an eager nod.

You’re a little buzzed and completely high on adrenaline, so of course it’s only natural that you find Hoseok and yourself acting out the final scenes to Mulan.

“So, um, you fight good,” Hoseok tells you.

You fake dramatic disappointment. “Oh, thank you.”

When the movie ends you’re both a giggling, ten year old mess. “The Little Mermaid?” he asks, turning to you with eyes that sparkle like they did in elementary school.

“Yes!”

Again the two of you are dramatically singing, but this time you’re faking discomfort while Hoseok serenades you. “Go on and kiss the girl,” he sings purposefully off key.

“Who are you, Louis?”

“You’re not supposed to have a voice!”

You stand up, ignoring him. “Do what the music say, you gotta kiss the girl!”

He pulls you into an embrace, swaying along to the music and singing along. “You’ve gotta kiss the girl.”

“Go on and kiss the girl.”

Ariel and Eric’s boat tips over, but you certainly don’t have that problem, and Hoseok is kissing you softly but hungrily. For a second you forget yourself, kissing him back happily, but then reality hits you and you jump away.

“H-Hoseok!”

His eyes are wide as he looks at you, but he’s not regretful or ashamed. “Please, Y/N…”

“Please what? What about Eunhae? I thought you were happy together!”

“We are! I just—You’re just…”

“I’m?”

“I want you, Y/N. So bad.”

“How can you say that? You have a girlfriend!”

“I know. I know. You’re just—You’re always there. So pretty. So smart. So good. And I just want to get it out of my system,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“H-Hobi…” you plead, using your childhood name for him.

“Please,” he begs. “Help me forget you.” He gently cups your face and brings your lips to him. You know you shouldn’t. You can’t. You won’t.

But you’re weak, so you do.

You and Hoseok kiss each other hungrily, making up for all the years you could’ve spent together. His hands slide down your waist and you take the hint, swiftly jumping into his arms and wrapping yourself around him. Without missing a beat or a breath, he takes you into his bedroom. He props you up on the bed in front of him, not missing the way you shudder under his breath as he trails feather light kisses down your neck and abdomen. He takes one breast in his hand, kneading it and pinching your nipple until you’re whining and whimpering under him.

You turn your head to the side to see a picture of Eunhae at his bedside, smiling unknowingly at the act of betrayal that you and her boyfriend engage in. Guilt creeps back into you, but Hoseok seems to know you better than you think, and he quickly reaches over you and puts the picture face down. “Eyes on me, baby,” he mutters huskily.

A loud, contented sigh escapes your lips when Hoseok reaches the button of your jeans, and you let yourself submit. You know you’ll regret it later, but Hoseok is everything you wanted, and it seems your morals aren’t strong enough to resist.

Maybe he’s your temptation, too.

“Hoseok…” you whisper as he pulls down your jeans and panties in one easy motion.

“What is it baby?”

“Touch me.”

“With pleasure.”

He kiss your entrance slowly and sweetly and as tenderly as if he were kissing you. One hand massages your leg while the other leisurely teases delicate circles around your clit. His tongue laps at your warmth suddenly, and you buck up at the sensation. You can feel his breath on you as he chuckles, but he doesn’t say anything and continues his ministrations.

His finger prods at your entrance twice before he finally sinks into you. You ride back against his fingers and he lets you; he does none of the work except kissing and biting and your clit while you fuck yourself on him. The build up is slow, but the reward is not, and your orgasm comes crashing down on you in full force. The pleasure is white hot and leaves you feeling dizzy, perhaps because of the entire situation. “Ah, I’m cumming!”

Hoseok happily drinks your nectar, humming as if he’d be content to lay there for a while. But eventually he’s making his way back up you, careful not the leave any marks but not leaving a single space untouched. “You taste good,” he murmurs against you. “Look.”

He meets your tongue in a soft, sensual kiss. It’s entirely unrushed and entirely unlike anything you’re used to. You love it. “Let me make you feel good, too,” you say to him. He only nods, flipping on his back and helping himself out of his shorts and t-shirt. You rub his thighs as you get closer to his exposed member, and he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back.

Your hand finally wraps around his cock, and he can’t help but let out a low groan. You mimic his earlier actions, fisting him firmly but slowly, so slowly that he’s bucking into your hand; he’s practically fucking himself on you. You smile and kiss the tip of his head to slow him down. He immediately freezes at the feeling of your lips on his cock, and he sinks back into the bed as you sink down on him.

“Oh, shit, you feel good,” he moans. You purr in delight, and he strokes your hair in praise, almost lovingly. You relax your muscles so that you’re taking nearly all of him, but your gag reflex stops you, forcing you to come up for air. “You’re so good,” he praises, and you’re all too eager to take him back in you. You rub the base of him as you suck, and the friction has him damn near close to cumming.

He doesn’t want to just yet though, so he removes himself from you and ushers you onto your back. “What about protection?” you ask.

“Uh, in the drawer there.” You nod and reach over, pulling out a condom from his bedside table. Once he rolls it on and he’s positioned in front of you, his entire demeanor seems to change. He’d been holding back before, but there was no restraint as he let go of himself inside you. He gripped your waist tightly, pounding into you roughly. “Fuck, that’s it baby. Damn, you feel good.”

“Fuck! Hoseok!”

“Yeah? Shit, you sound good. Say my name again.”

“H-Hoseok!”

“Ugh, shit.”

He slips out of you and pulls you to him. He picks you up and pins you against his bedroom wall, entering you once again. You grasp blindly for something—anything—to ground you, but the only thing you can do is hold onto Hoseok and enjoy the ride. He rattles the room as he fucks you into the wall, and he grunts loudly into your ear. “Say my name.”

“Hoseok!”

“Who fucks you like this?”

“Y-You do.”

“Yeah? You’re not gonna be able to forget me after this.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“Only I can make you feel this good.”

“Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok…”

“That’s it babygirl, keep saying my name.”

“Oh my god it feels so good, Hoseok,” you whine.

“I know baby. I’m getting close.”

“M-Me too—agh!”

“Not yet, babygirl,” he says as he pounds into you. “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.”

“Hoseok! Please let me cum!”

“No.” He drops you and moves you so that you’re bending over the bed. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,” he growls and enters you again in one swift movement.

“Fuck!” you sob out, tears pricking your eyes as you try to keep your orgasm at bay. “I’m—”

“Shit, me too. Cum with me, baby.”

“Hoseok!”

“Fuck!”

You spasm and cry out, cumming hard on Hoseok’s cock. He follows after you, holding you close to him as he releases into the rubber. He even goes as far as to bite down on your back to keep him from moaning too loudly. Once you’ve both ridden out your highs, you sink into the mattress, greedy for the sleep that you can feel creeping up on you. Hoseok disposes of the condom and brings you a glass of water and a shirt. “Thank you,” you murmur.

He pulls you up the bed beside him, tucking you comfortably under his arm and whispering, “No, thank you,” and you’re both gone to the world.

—

The morning sun shakes you awake, and last night’s events slowly creep into your mind. You turn and look at the disheveled man beside you, sighing quietly to yourself. You tiptoe around Hoseok’s bedroom, collecting your clothes from last night, and you change out of the shirt he’d given you. “Bye, Hobi,” you call, even though you know he can’t hear you, and you vanish from his apartment.

The drive home is silent—too silent for your liking. You can’t help but replay the entire affair over and over again. Fuck. You shake the thoughts from your head.

It was a one time thing, you scold yourself. You’ll be seeing him tonight to pick up Chungjae. Get yourself together.

—

Chungjae dances as energetically as he always does, and it’s with immense pride that you watch him match Hoseok’s movements perfectly. “Great job!” Hoseok praises.

“Minho and I worked on it all last night!” Chungjae reveals proudly.

Hoseok’s gaze flickers over to you for a second, but just a second, and then he returns his attention back to your little brother. “Well it really paid off, huh? I think that’s it for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Chungjae immediately runs around to gather his stuff, pausing a few times to talk to Hoseok. As you fish the keys out of your bag, and excited Eunhae appears in the studio. “Hi, babe!” she greets Hoseok. He embraces her happily, leaving a quick peck on her lips.

“Hey, how was work?”

“Boring, as always. Hi Chungjae! Hi Y/N!”

“Hi, Eunhae,” you say with a wave and cheerful smile. Guilt sits at the back of your mind, and you only add to it by locking eyes with Hoseok. He gives you a look—you’re not sure what—before he turns back to his girlfriend.

“Hey,” he says a bit seriously. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What? Why do you sound so serious?” she laughs.

“It’s just something that I should’ve told you earlier.”

“What? You’re scaring me.”

“I love you,” he replies without hesitation. Your eyes widen in shock along with Eunhae’s.

“I love you too!” she squeals happily, wrapping herself around him.

He looks over her shoulder and meets your gaze, giving you a friendly wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “See you tomorrow.”

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kyojurolover · 6 years

Text

Nobody Else But You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You have a thing for frat boy Bucky Barnes, and he may have a thing for you. But relationships aren’t as easy as they may seem...can you and Bucky make this work?

Author’s Note: I’m kind of in a writer’s block with my Sam Wilson fanfic, so here’s something for y’all to read that I had posted on my now-deleted sideblog. Anyways, I’ve always loved the idea of frat boy! Bucky and couldn’t help but come up with a story. I’ve got tons more of other frat boy head canons and yeah, hope you guys enjoy! (Also, in this series, Bucky has short hair)

Tag list & requests are open!

Warnings: none really

You always thought the whole sorority girl and frat boy thing was so overrated, it was so cliche and people tended to make a big deal out of it for no reason. So imagine the irony of you being at a frat party, one which your best friend made you attend.

————

“Y/N, you’re definitely coming.” Nat stated, hands on her hips as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone.

“No, no Nattie.” You shook your head. “Y’know I’m not a fan of them..”

Nat chuckled. “What? Frat boys or parties?”

“How bout both?” You grinned, placing your phone next to you face-down.

“Lies. You’re a fan of one frat boy in particular... Bucky Barnes.” She had a smirk on her face, as you felt the heat rise in your neck.

“Shut up! I am not!” You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Really? Because three times today you brought him up. This morning, during free period, and during lunch. You’re never the type to bring up anyone during any of our conversations THREE times!”

“Okay? He was bugging me is all..”

Nat started to mimic you. “‘He’s always calling me doll. And, ugh, that stupid cap of his that he’s always wearing..no one tells him to take it off! And don’t get me started on his tight shirts that make his muscles bulge out and somehow even though I hate him I can’t help but get lost in his icy blue eyes!’” She pretended to faint, then fell over in laughter.

“Still not going.” You muttered.

“Oh, you’re going Y/N. Definitely. Or I’ll change the Netflix password.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna enjoy it.”

————

You had stuck to your word. You were leaning against a far corner of the wall, where it was almost completely empty except for some crushed beer cans and a couple that was making out next to you. You were holding a red cup that was filled barely half way with water. You weren’t trying to get drunk..especially at a frat party.

And it was almost exactly how you pictured it to be: a room filled with college students that reek of Bud Lite and sweat. Some grinding action going on in the corner and a few girls dancing on top of a table, thinking they’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. A few boys wearing neon blue shirts that say “sober monitor”, while holding warm keg beer in their hands. The latest hits playing in one room and body-thumping techno music blaring down in the basement. Failed attempts to pick up girls and drunken PDAs with complete strangers. The beer pong champ running the table and a floor so disgusting you wouldn't dare take off your shoes... Yep, first frat party. What a delight.

Thankfully, no one was paying much mind to you. And Nat was only a few steps away, standing with her boyfriend Clint and sharing passionate kisses every second. Clint was a frat boy, which you almost always forgot because once you got to know him, he wasn’t cocky and rude...like most frat boys are.

Your luck was starting to run out though, because Bucky was making his way over to you. Okay, Nat was right that you had a crush on him. But who doesn’t? He’s so mind-shockingly gorgeous that even if the most stupidest thing came out of his mouth he’d have every girl (and maybe every boy) on their knees. His hair was always ruffled in a cute “I just woke up like this” look, his face was always clean shaven showing his jawline of perfection, he always wore different colored caps but put them on backwards, and he was always wearing loose fitted jeans that made his thighs look good.

The thing you loved most about him though, were his beautiful blue eyes. They were like two deep pools, but always changing color. Sometimes they were grey, like storm clouds. Other times, they almost looked green; resembling sea foam..

You didn’t realize you were in a trance until Bucky cleared his throat. “Hey, doll. Never thought I’d see you here.”

“What do you want, Bucky?” You furrowed your brows and tightened the grip on your cup. You tried ignoring the light skip of your heart at the sound of his nickname for you.

“You on your knees.” He smiled cheekily, leaving you unfazed. “C’mon, Y/N. Be a party gal and go up there and show some of your moves.” Bucky gestured vaguely to the table top where suddenly two girls were making out.

You made a face. “You want me to make out with someone?”

Bucky chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No, doll. That would be entertaining though. I want to see your dance moves.”

“Yeah...you’re not ready for that.” You grinned, taking a sip from your cup.

“What does that mean?” Bucky still bore a smile on his face. “Do I have to take you out to dinner first?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you. We all know Bucky Barnes takes it straight to the bedroom..” You scoffed sarcastically.

“Oh, but baby it’d be different with you. I’d meet up with you at a party like this...” Bucky started to come closer to you. “Take you alone in a corner..” He was standing in front of you now, one arm extended forward on the wall as he leaned in closer, your guys’ lips barely an inch apart. “And..”

“Hey, Barnes! Somebody beat your beer pong record!” A dark skinned boy called from across the room.

You heard Bucky growl as he turned his head. “What, Sam?” He sounded angry, but you didn’t think it was about the beer pong thing.

Bucky’s blond best friend, Steve Rogers, stepped out from the crowd. “It was me, Buck-o!” He had his hands on his hips, smiling proudly as a bunch of people slapped him on the back and a few girls gave him kisses on the cheek.

“Great job, Stevie!” Bucky yelled, but everyone ignored him as they quickly turned back to the game. Bucky turned back to you, smirking. “Now where were we?”

“You were invading my personal space.” You were still holding your cup, but you were now pushed up against the wall, your chest touching Bucky’s.

“This okay?” He stared at you innocently, as fluorescent lights shined down on him. You nodded your head, too nervous and excited to say anything.

Bucky put his lips softly on yours, gripping the back of your head with his hand that was originally placed on the wall next to you. His free hand drifted to your hips as he deepened the kiss. You dropped your cup as you placed both hands around his neck, pulling him in for more. One of you let out a moan, and suddenly it didn’t feel like you were at a frat party anymore. It felt like you two were isolated in your own bubble, filled with lust and passion as the smell of Bucky’s cologne and thumping bass of the music urged both of you on.

“Mm, Bucky..” Your voice came out muffled against his lips, as you placed both hands on his chest trying to push him away.

Bucky kept his lips against yours for a little bit longer, before pulling away. “What, doll?” His pupils were blown and his hair seemed messier, if possible.

Nat suddenly called out your name. “Y/N! C’mon, girl, we gotta go!” She was wearing Clint’s varsity jacket over her black dress, one hand wrapped around Clint’s arm.

“Right..” You whispered under your breath. You stepped out from underneath Bucky. “Um..bye.” You didn’t wait for a response as you made your way over to Nat and Clint. And as you guys walked out of there, all you could think was, What the hell was that?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #jealous bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #marvel #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

392 notes · View notes

mochimuses-a · 5 years

Note

gimme some clem, boss, and doc headcanons!! please im dumb and gay and need content on these v excellent well written girls...

shbsbhss ok (i’ll also do some for dem and captain despite you not asking uwu)

dem

she likes nightcore

she owns a skateboard

her favorite season is summer

i mentioned this on her blog but not this one, she can lift over 500 pounds just above her head

she has a bh body pillow she made herself

i continue to make jokes about it but she genuinely smokes weed

i mentioned this before but she can play ukulele. she learned for the resort

uses that bh puppet for make-out practice

uses the spare set of bh’s clothes in order to play out how she wants their proposal to go

she is a cannibal, and eats some of the heroes she kills

enjoys basking in the sun like the lizard she is

has really bad nightmares, so she tends to stay awake until she crashes

cut her hair with craft scissors once. she can’t do that anymore

breaks things for attention

hates being left alone and will really panic about it after a while

a really good pickpocket

has always wanted a pet komodo dragon (which is why boss has one!)

clem

she likes vaporwave, probably

probably owns rollerskates but also a bike

her favorite season is spring

she’s slower on land than dem is but she’s still pretty fast, she’s even faster in water

she can lift about as much as dem can

has never smoked a weed nor touched an alcohol. it’s not that she can’t, she’s just never done it before

could swear but probably never will

she has a tracking device but unlike dem she can take hers off whenever she wants. has it specifically in case they absolutely have to track her

unironically likes nyan cat

owns several turtle plushes

her room is so very pink and blue it is like cotton candy heaven

she has trouble sleeping at night, and has nightmares all the time. she doesn’t tell anyone about it, though.

she hates to talk about her problems because it makes her feel like a burden

when she forgets something but she knows she knew it it makes her feel really stupid

if she could eat only sweets all the time forever she probably would

probably slept for 24 hours straight once

“how are you” “how about you” she does this. she will not tell you how she is half the time because she usually isn’t good

has never dated before, is actually very awkward about romance most of the time

has probably declined so many men asking her out without even realizing it

boss

her favorite season (not really her favorite but she hates it the least) is winter

she likes to make bh carry her around. she can walk just fine but she knows he’ll do it so might as well

in fact, she makes bh do most things for her. she even makes him cook for her

she’s actually a really good singer, and her voice can be very hypnotic if she wants it to be

she likes lots of music, but one of her favorite genres is probably jazz or swing stuff

she can shapeshift but sometimes she’ll forget a minor detail about a person and mess it up

she accepts lots of sacrifices, mostly of the human variety

likes to mimic people’s voices to fuck with people in public

a show-off. can and will flaunt everything she’s got

still pickpockets people because she’s just that petty i guess

doesn’t have to sleep but you better bet she still does it just so she doesn’t have to be reminded of her employees’ existences

likes to fuck with people’s electronics for the simple hell of it

doc

her favorite season is fall

unlike the other dems, she doesn’t really play guitar that often, she more plays her keyboard. she does HAVE a guitar, though.

she is the only dem to have grown up as a completely regular human being.

she has a large amount of stolen phds because she feels like a failure for never getting her own

before she did all of the experiment stuff on herself, she had to wear glasses.

she is only good with her kids, she would punt anyone else’s kid through a window

her favorite subject was science, probably specifically biology

she likes making organic things more than robots, but she does both

probably made a cool robot lizard once but then bh broke it and she let that dream die really fast

captain

her favorite season, like clem, is spring, but she also enjoys winter

she’s actually a little weak because she refuses to get a new host, she’s had the same one for a long time now

she falls asleep under her desk a lot

probably could legitimately sleep for 100 years if boss would just let her

not that great with romance, has had, at most, one significant other before

the idea she will outlive the mortals she knows really messes with her, and she tries to spend as much time with everyone as possible

goes out into the city often to see if anyone needs any healing or help

has a pool, more for princess than anything else, but still

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revoltwithlcve · 5 years

Text

♦ REVOLTWITHLCVE’S VERSION OF DIAMOND DAYS EVENTS ♦

So fair warning, THIS IS REALLY FRIGGIN LONG. But if you want a low down of how Diamond Days occurs in accordance with this blog, than read on through!

- Begins very similarly to canon, with Rose revealing herself to the other diamonds when she realizes its the best way of keeping all her friends and family safe. Yellow and Blue, too relieved to see Pink alive, don’t question her too thoroughly about the rebellion itself and Rose takes the opportunity to try having them use their powers to heal a corrupted gem. Upon seeing the huge progress that was made when the three of them work together, she comes to the conclusion on her own that in order to make a permanent cure, she would have to face White Diamond and this makes her nearly outright refuse to go through with it, her fear of White so rampant that it almost blots out her concern and guilt over the corrupted gems. Steven however is able reason with her and convinces Rose that she needs to at least try, and at last she guides everyone to her old ship so that they can all prepare to leave for Homeworld. Back at Beach City, Rose tells Connie and Steven that they shouldn’t come, humans in space are very vulnerable and they could very easily get hurt, but Steven is insistent that he’s a Crystal Gem too (having been trained with a specialized gem device that mimics Rose’s shield), and that he and Connie were insistent on coming whether she liked it or not. And thus, the whole crew goes off to Homeworld, Garnet, Pearl and Amethyst pushing through any animosity they feel towards Rose for the sake of the corrupted gems.

- Upon landing on Homeworld, Rose is horrified when she sees Pink Pearl cracked and being controlled by White, having been unaware of her old Pearl’s fate. While caught off guard by this, it only serves to make Rose angry when she’s brought to White and she attempts to confront White then and there, more stubbornly refusing to be interrupted but she is still sent off in an orb to her old room, White all but ignoring her. While this does surprise her (as she’d been expecting a punishment of some sort, this making her realize how strangely White was acting), Rose is still very angry and upset, and is a crying mess by the time she notices the pebbles running around. It’s through the pebbles and reconnecting with her old friends that she’s able to calm down enough to be more rational about the situation, and it is then that Pearl arrives in her room. The two have a somber conversation at how little things had changed on Homeworld, and Rose asks Pearl if she had been aware of what happened to Pink Pearl (this can be elaborated in a thread). This eventually leads onto Rose being summoned to Yellow’s sauna.

- This is the first instance of Rose trying to tell the Pearls to call her Rose instead of Pink Diamond, but this of course doesn’t end well and she instead plays a joke and tells them to call her Lasagna then. In the sauna, Rose has a conversation the centers around White and how much she’s changed, Rose realizing that she hasn’t seen or talked to anyone in person in millenia. This eventually goes into Rose saying “Maybe you should try failing.” which gets a laugh out of Yellow who’s remark earns her a very fiery glare from Rose, but Yellow doesn’t seem to notice. From here Rose is summoned to see Blue, and already back in a very foul mood, she rants to Pearl about how “Yes, literally nothing has changed. Right back to ignoring and belittling me.”

- With Blue, it’s a little less tense, if more so awkward as Blue tries to bring up fond memories of the diamonds spending time together. This leads into their conversation being around why Rose left, to which Rose is quick to grow more quiet and stoic as she solemnly states “Why should I say? You wouldn’t understand nor care anyhow...” (How things proceed from there could be in a thread). This thread of discussion is soon interrupted with Blue having to leave as well, though she does state firmly “We will talk more on this later” to Rose before she leaves. Rose returns to her old quarters with Pearl, her frustrations from having to reopen old wounds making her gradually more upset as she asks about where the others had been put, especially Connie and Steven. Pearl goes off to retrieve them, as Rose retreats into her old secret room with the pebbles and nostalgically goes through her old belongings.

- When Steven and Connie, along with the other CGs are brought by Pearl she’s quick to make sure they’re all comfortable with the help of the pebbles, though before Steven and Connie go to sleep they ask her to tell them about the other diamonds and her exact relation to them. Its here that Rose goes into her past as a diamond (her creation for example) in front of everyone, eventually reaching the point where she finishes with “And one day, I just... decided I wanted to stop being Pink Diamond. That wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore.”

- Rose does decide to attempt having a ball, as she recalled that White used to attend those and wonders if this nostalgic event would perhaps coax her back out. She is of course more familiar with how the balls are run, but it’s Steven and Connie that get B!Pearl and Y!Pearl to talk about their interests and hobbies, which becomes far more interesting to Rose than planning anything and Blue comes in at this moment of distraction. The two fall into having an argument about Rose looking the way she is (she hasn’t gone into her old uniform as Rose), and having the others accompany her, Rose vehemently insistent that the children stay near her and that her friends be allowed to come, and coming to Garnet’s defense when Blue begins to criticize the fusion. Garnet still decides not to come, and its in that moment after Blue departs that Rose and Garnet actually talk for the first since Rose revealed herself to be Pink Diamond. Rose doesn’t try to sway Garnet into coming to the ball, it’s moreso about her apologizing for Blue’s behavior, and that Garnet had to come to Homeworld at all and deal with this type of treatment (this then extends to everyone else as well). In turn Garnet says she knows this all has been very difficult for Rose too, and says that she would much rather be with them all to help instead of being back on Earth. Its here that their friendship starts to show signs of mending.

- During the ball itself, Rose plays along with her old role and regulations, Steven and Connie being seated next to her and whispering comments with her throughout the whole event. Though she does take time to make funny faces with Amethyst along with a mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ when she sees Amethyst had been forced to wear limb enhancers. She grows far more remorseful when she spots Ruby and Sapphire in the crowd, though Steven helps to comfort her and keep her focused. With Yellow and Blue however she doesn’t respond to them, instead pretending to stay focused on the ball’s events. When White doesn’t end up coming to the ball, Rose falls into a far more morose mood, quietly wondering if fate would repeat itself and if she’d be forced back into her old diamond lifestyle again. Steven and Connie now work together to try and cheer her up by making her dance, which Rose ends up going along with mainly because she’s sick of doing everything by what White wants.

( tbh I’m not sure what should happen next, I haven’t established that Rose could fuse with Steven or considered that train of thought, but who knows. Either way she does something to upset White, Blue and Yellow and gets tossed into the cell, all while holding Steven and Connie close since the others have been poofed and Rose doesn’t trust leaving them alone with the other diamonds the slightest bit. )

- After trying everything to force the doors to open in desperation to get Steven and Connie to safety (she knew how long Blue and Yellow tended to keep her in there and the fact that Steven and Connie would starve and get dehydrated if she didn’t do something), Connie and Steven fall asleep to rest leaving Rose to her own thoughts, where she decides to attempt contacting Bismuth on Earth to send help. She’s hesitant about this, knowing that Bismuth doesn’t like nor trust her, but with Steven and Connie’s lives being in danger Rose goes through with it anyhow, and astral projects herself into Lion. Through Lion she is able to communicate to Greg first, and with his help gets Bismuth’s attention as she writes in the sand that the Crystal Gems were in trouble and needed help. Once she knows for certain that Bismuth clearly understood, its then that Rose pulls away from Lion’s consciousness and returns to her gem.

- Rose does her best to keep Steven and Connie as comfortable as possible, the three of them discussing Rose’s past occasionally and other random things to pass the time. When Blue comes in Rose’s first concern is that Blue let Steven and Connie get food and water. This devolves into Blue getting upset about ‘Pink’ making up excuses again to try and earn Blue’s pity, to which Rose reacts with growing anger as the two argue and it culminates to the point of Blue saying “Why do you care about these organics so much?”, and Rose responding with “Because they actually love and care about me, Blue! Which is more than I could say for you!!” From here she begins crying, actually speaking her true emotions to Blue as she describes how whenever she did something Blue or the others didn’t like, they would all just toss her in her to be alone and in the dark, they would all just forget her when she was in pain. “I was always there for you when you cried or were hurt Blue, where were you when I needed you most?!” The rest of the conversation follows a similar line to canon, where Blue comes to the realization of what Rose was talking about, why she had changed so much and left, and eventually decides to help her and her new family return to the safety of Earth.

- In the confrontation against Yellow, it centers primarily around Blue and Yellow while Rose, Steven and Connie work to rescue the poofed CGs. When Yellow begins to shock Blue Rose finally intervenes by protecting Blue with her shield, and telling Yellow that she has to stop. The conversation following this is very similar to canon, where Yellow says they all have to work according to White’s expectations, that she has to do this for the sake of a perfect empire, which Rose then questions with “Does this look perfect to you??” Steven’s the one that brings up the porkchop and hotdogs line, which Rose elaborates on as Blue agrees with her and mentions that was how they had lost Pink in the first place. When Yellow collapses and begins to cry, both Blue and Rose go to her for an embrace, Rose feeling spurred to comfort Yellow for the first time in a very long while.

- Now with all the diamonds working together, they run to Pink’s ship where White intervenes by taking control of it with her own ship. Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot come to the rescue in Blue and Yellow’s ships, and at this moment it can be seen through their expressions that Bismuth and Rose are beginning to come to an understanding, when Rose genuinely thanks Bismuth for coming and Bismuth states “Couldn’t just abandon you guys here.” When Yellow and Blue insist that Rose takes their ships and leave, at first Rose looked ready to go through with that, but just as she turns to leave she freezes and realizes that to run after going through all this, after finally having gotten through to Yellow and Blue and connect with them after so long... she couldn’t run away. She had to see this through, abandoning Blue and Yellow to deal with White wouldn’t be right and so she sternly says no and comes to stand with the other two, saying that they all had to talk to White, at least try to make her see that the way things were right now were wrong.

- The attempt at speaking with White goes as expected, and the crew are sent tumbling down with Rose going after her friends, pleading with them to wake up until eventually she first fuses with Pearl and realizes that fusing was how she could help the others emerge from their gems. From Pearl she goes to Amethyst and fuses with her to save Ruby and Sapphire, and lastly is able to save everyone from being crushed under the ships foot by fusing with Garnet to form Sunstone (same name but different appearance and personality of course). After unfusing and Rose having a much needed moment of bonding, relief and friendship with the others, they finally form into Obsidian to climb White’s ship to directly get to her head. Steven and Connie work together with Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot to distract the hands and ultimately wind up in the grasp of Obsidian, who reaches the ship’s head before being crushed and forced to separate. Connie and Steven fall further down, but assure Rose that they’ll be safe and will follow the others soon after, so Rose and the other CGs go on into White’s ship.

- Finally confronting White, Rose attempts to talk to her and reason with her, though ultimately that ends with Amethyst, Garnet and Pearl all falling under her control as White tells her that she surrounds herself with flawed gems merely to make herself feel better, feel higher than someone. Rose combats this with saying, “No, that’s what you do! You keep saying everyone but you is flawed and imperfect, but that means you’re worse than I am! At least I know I’m flawed, and I’ve accepted that I can’t be perfect! You’re just forcing yourself into a warped delusion!” At this point Steven and Connie enter the room and briefly fight against Pearl, at which point Rose begins to try coming to their aid and but stops when she’s faced with Garnet and Amethyst and having to fight them. Eventually Steven and Connie are brought in front of White, who then suggests that it was from surrounding herself with lowly organics that ‘Pink’ had gotten these thoughts into her head, and stating that they were a bad influence is about to kill them when Rose panics and completely lashes out, throwing Garnet and Amethyst off her and diving on top of the children as a wave of a pink wall erupts from her and pushes nearly everyone back. Rose is furious, and holds the children close with a thick shield around her as White begins trying to zap her with her light, growing increasingly frustrated with ‘Pink’s’ stubbornness and using all the controlled gems in the room to attack her at once. This hardly does any damage to Rose’s shield as she protects Connie and Steven, and it is in that moment of desperation that she realizes something she could do, something that would force White to see the situation outside of her perspective, force her to feel some sort of emotion. She knows initially, this was something she never would have done in the past, but with the children in danger, with her friends and family in danger... she had no choice.

- Leaving a protective bubble around Steven and Connie as the rushes out, dodging around the blasts of white light that were aimed at her, Rose leaps up at White Diamond’s chest and forcefully fuses herself into the elder diamond’s light, combining their minds and hearts into one being that initially writhed and lashed about before collapsing to the ground, the hold White had on the other gems breaking as the fusion fell into an immovable trance. Inside the fusion, White and Rose’s conciousness’s clash with each other until Rose finally manages to break through the wall White had forced around herself, and shares her thoughts, emotions, and memories directly into White. All this, along with Rose’s desperation for White to just listen and the surprising, long buried love she’d had for White finally stun the eldest diamond, enough so that she finally stops struggling and allows Rose to say her piece. Now with the two having their minds fully conjoined, emotions being felt directly with each other as they spoke, the two are finally able to reach a moment of bonding, this being the moment where Rose sings “Change Your Mind” as the two unfuse into their separate forms once more.

- At first there is a lot of tension in the room as Rose and White return, though it seems that Rose’s attempts were successful in rousing a change of heart in White, a remnant of Pink’s aura remaining within White as she now glowed softly with a pink light. From here White shows the deep uncertainty and strain she had with having to be flawless, her identity now feeling broken with the emotions she could no longer keep at bay. While everyone else was shocked and didn’t approach her, Rose comes forward surprisingly, and the two share a tender moment of confiding and comfort. This, finally, helps White agree to come to Earth with them and assist in healing the corrupted gems.

- From here it follows canon fairly closely, where the four of them go into a pool while bringing all the corrupted gems they’d collected over the years and watching them return to their original forms. At long last Rose genuinely feels happy, hugging and embracing all of her old friends, crying with them, and especially holding Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst and Steven close when she can. When it comes time for the Diamonds to leave, Blue extends the offer for Rose to return to Homeworld, even if she knows that Rose will likely turn it down. Rose does, explaining that while she’s happy that the four of them were on better terms, her true home was Earth. She does however state that the three of them were welcome to visit anytime they liked, tenderly saying that it would mean a lot to her if they could take the time to. The Diamonds leave, and Rose spends the rest of the evening celebrating with the other CGs, Greg and Steven, Steven staying close to Rose as the two mainly spend moments quietly enjoying each other’s company and singing songs.

#love yourself because you're wonderful || mun ||#(super long read and also can be changed about for threads)#(but this is the default of what happens according to this blog's verse where Rose is alive!)#(spent all day writing and figuring this out rip-)

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