#that’s so absurd to me !!! like i’ve been laughing about it because it’s so depressing that’s the only thing i can do

[haechannabelle]

ok personal venting in the tags time. giving u my TMI like stray kids said

[kiefbowl]

idk if you still plan on writing it but I would love to hear your essay on the misogyny in HIMYM bc I binge-watched it one summer when I was really depressed (it did not help). I remember it as being somewhere between mediocre-funny and absolutely ghastly.

idk maybe. it is amusing at times, they did interesting things with the sitcom structure (which I wanted to talk about), they don’t really have traditional “jokes” though. It’s like absurd silliness rather than set up>punchline. Unfortunately for everyone, the writers were oblivious to their own misogyny which lead to the most unaware jokes regarding sexual violence you will ever hear. It’s worse than raunchy comedy bc raunchy bro comedies know what they are and actually employ jokes. It’s like the writers didn’t understand how awful their “jokes” are. Completely mask off moment of the philosophy of the average American male. But it’s squished between an impassioned thesis on romance (which is also bad yet interesting but in different ways) and the comedic excellence of 5 very funny actors who are very fun to watch.

It’s currently not in the public’s favor and so has been regulated to “forgotten and irrelevant” but I’m of the opinion it’ll in the future be considered an important cultural artifact for multiple reasons, including what I wrote above. It has on display some truly rancid thinking without self awareness that really demonstrates the time it was made that we rarely have available because most artists, on some level, try to obscure their hostility towards women rather than be absolutely blatant.

I have to take a break from it though. I’ve been slowly watching it and it’s still not enough I have to take a break season 8 is just horrible. it’s like they were trying to kill Jason Segal on purpose. He looks like he wants to die every word he says. Whatever heart sustained this show up to that point is just gone in this season. the emotional core is wiped out PROBABLY because the writers intentionally wrote themselves in a double bind of needing robin/Barney to get married and yet robin/ted being long end game. Why would you do that to yourself. you have to be stupid, the kind of stupid to write “jokes” like “so I completely lied to this 19 year old on purpose, banged her in the bathroom even though she said she wasn’t sure, and now I’ll never call her again. Boobs!!” over a laugh track and dinky piano clown music. kill me.

[girlreviews]

Review #96: Automatic For The People, R. E. M.

Are you very depressed? Me too. Automatic For The People is rich, beautiful, tonally downer music for sad people who occasionally have bright sunny days.

It describes such a complex sadness, and that’s something I love about it. In Nightswimming, we aren’t just swimming at night, we are “pining for the moon”. Who among us sad losers doesn’t pine for the moon from time to time? Hmm? And we are doing so alongside glorious strings, oddly chirpy piano, and what I believe to be a damn OBOE. How often do we get to hear an oboe? Do you know? I do. It’s not that often. It’s not.

I have complicated feelings about Everybody Hurts. I was only four when this record came out. But this song didn’t go anywhere for a really long time. It was constantly on the radio well into my teens. The riff becomes very monotonous. What is supposed to be a comfort, a message that you’re not alone, can kind of eventually sound like, hey get over it because your problems are the same as everybody else’s, everyone has heard this song too, and everyone kind of hates it by now. It’s been a long ass time since I’ve spent time with it, and it might just have been long enough. Let’s try again in a few years.

I have always liked R.E.M. and a lot of their songs well enough, but maybe never known their albums inside out. More like, well versed in their radio hits, and I definitely always had an attitude about them. I wouldn’t admit to liking them, kinda thing. Imagine my surprise when I stuck this album on for reviewing purposes and I started singing all the words to all the album tracks? I knew them all. All of them! Suddenly I was taken back to Sunday afternoons in my house when it was time to clean, or cook, or whatever you know, just boring nothing Sunday stuff, and I guess this one was one that my Mom liked. It must have reverberated through the house and I must have absorbed it. This is the way I’ve come to know and love a few artists and albums that I believe I previously held disdain for. Over time, I have reluctantly accepted that they’re just pretty fucking good, and I can’t hate it just because my Mother likes it. Simon and Garfunkel being probably the greatest, and most painful example. Sigh.

As annoying as this might be, Drive, the opening track, is pretty joyous to relive. I mean, it’s the opposite of joyous in that it’s a huge dose of frowny-face sounds, but joyous in that it’s a song about challenging the status-quo by voting (seriously, it is — they were a big part of the Rock the Vote campaign and some of the lines are very pointed towards Bush Sr, who was running for a second term), but also questioning your sanity and driving around to uh, feel better. Relatable. It also references another song, a mechanism that I delight in — Rock Around the Clock, by Bill Haley and the Comets, if you’re wondering.

R.E.M. stand out with their use of mandolin and other not so typically utilized instruments, and it’s always really funny to me that they were so popular in top 40 music when they just, aren’t pop music at all. But that isn’t a bad thing. The bright sunny day for your average sad sack lives in The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, where you even hear Michael Stipe laugh his way through the lyrics. It’s upbeat, it’s absurd, and it’s also fucking great. It’s fun as hell to sing. Lastly, I may be in the minority, but I love instrumental tracks (when they’re good), and New Orleans Instrumental No. 1 is two minutes and thirteen seconds of someone letting me fall asleep on them like a cat while they gently play with my hair. I could listen to it on repeat forever and I’d never be sick of it. It’s so beautiful. In my incessant need to know everything about every song, I have learned that a longer version exists (may I hear it?), and that it has never been performed live (may we hear it?).

I guess my Mom just really liked them. She grew up playing a few different stringed instruments but is deaf in one ear and can’t hold a tune to save her life. Still, once, she took me and that shitty boyfriend to our hyper local village music store (it’s long gone but was such a gem), I think so I could buy some guitar strings. The woman picked up a mandolin, and played a few chords perfectly. Our jaws hit the floor. Every time I hear the mandolin in one of their songs, I think of that moment and how cool she was to me in it.

They will always get bonus points for two additional things: Mike Mills is a consistent staple in the modern day Big Star lineup, with R.E.M. being one of the bands responsible for their later resurgence by citing their influence. Actually, I’m only just realizing this, but I HEAR IT IN ALL THAT MANDOLIN. Holy shit.

So, okay, I’ll always love them for that. But also, they are fictional character Ben Wyatt’s favorite band in the dorkiest and most pure, sincere way ever. Could a depressed person make this?

I had no idea I had this much to say about R.E.M. I’m a little embarrassed.

[that-is-just-so-typically-me]

I’ve always felt that I am so much better at helping other peoples deal with crises than my own always laughed it off like, “interesting how I can sign up six times my friends for therapy in a week, but will go a month without rescheduling if my own therapist cancels on me” as if that wasn’t the whole idea in the first place. Other people’s problems don’t fill me with dread and depression, mine do, because they’re going to affect me, not them. When we are having a crisis, by definition we are not dealing well. It turns out crises are crises because they are absolutely incompatible with our capacity to deal with them. That’s why we have friends and loved ones to see if they’re able to help us deal better or god forbid just help us (it took me a long time to figure out that the “you should be able to handle this alone or you’re unhealthy” mindset it isn’t applicable to every or honestly even most situation). We do the same for them when they’ve crossed their stress tolerance threshold and are not dealing well. I’ve got to stop attempting to (and often failing to) deal with all of my crises on my own and feeling shocked when the results are nothing as indicated by the expertise I display in my attempts on behalf of a friend whenever they deal with something similar.

As always, these things seem like they should have been completely obvious before, but I never seem to notice how absurd the narratives that I tell myself about myself are (or how powerful and logical certain ideas or behaviors are) until I describe them out loud, and then it’s so bizarre to me that I didn’t catch it before, and that I could have assigned the meaning or lack thereof that I did to much of what I or others do

[crypticmedici]

a very mean rebuttal to the mary sue post

So in a desperate attempt to avoid looking my finals in the eye, I was scrolling through twitter and found out that “Mary Sue” was trending over the weekend. And came upon this gold nugget.

I should have left this well enough alone. Honestly. It’s already absurd that this man starts off a thread implying that Bo motherfuckin’ Peep is a Mary Sue. Halfway through reading it, I realized this dude switched the plot up on me to advertise his shitty ghostwriting services, so yeah, I guess he can be happy that this thread was enough for me to write some bullshit about nothing. But meh, I’ve been spending the last week writing in AP style about voter apathy in young voters from my state and how overwhelmingly depressing it is in the current political climate so maybe this was a sign. 

For me to absolutely wreck this man’s shit. I need a laugh.

Some caveats for this post: 

First, sans Rings of Power when it first released, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen any of the media he’s discussing so if there’s anything I got wrong, let me know. Like this man, I also left my brain cells at home. Even playing ground! 

Second, I’ll be sticking to screenwriting since he's focusing on characters from tv and film. 

Third, I’m only putting this on tumblr because I know it won’t get any notes and that way, I don’t give this moron any more attention past my rebuttal here.

I’m leaving his whole thread here in case anyone does has 5 minutes to read a redundant, barely put together frankenstein of an “advice column”. There’s some tweets here and there that I missed but honestly, most of the tweets he has are garbage anyway. But hey, I went through the headache and came out fine, right? He photoshopped the gigachad over his face when I took these screenshots but surprise surprise, it's a white boy with a receding hairline. It’s always the white boys with receding hairlines. Jester! A rendition of “gangsta’s paradise” on your smallest violin!

First, the irony isn’t lost on me from this idiot hijacking a term that originated in fandom and specifically fanfiction writing. 

Jesus, I’m about to date myself. Anyone remember Quizilla? That website was my introduction to fanfic. I wasn’t introduced to shipping though. I was introduced to OC x Canon Characters. Right after, I was introduced to Mary Sues. 

If you read fanfiction in the early 2000’s, you definitely read lots of Mary Sues stories. They’re pretty easy to spot. Mary Sue is perfect, she’s an angel (no really she’s got wings), she volunteers at the animal shelter every thursday, she’s beautiful, she looks like Linda Evangelista, she’s a model- 

What was annoying about seeing Mary Sues in stories though, was how much they took away from either the main plot of whatever show/movie they were inserted in, or made each and every character (whether or not they were in love with said Mary Sue depended on the author) act like completely different people. I would describe inserting a Mary Sue into a fanfic the way I would describe death by black hole. 

Sure, they were annoying to read but like, look, listen. Everyone wants to be or feel powerful. Everyone wants to feel love, to be praised. We’re human beings. And I think a lot of these fanfiction authors that did write Mary Sue stories were pretty harmless. They were writing what they wanted, how they wanted, and exploring the art of writing. What’s not to love about that?

Leave it to dickheads though, to hijack a term from fanfic and turn it into “my peen doesn’t work so I have to resort to insulting fictional women :(”. 

But it’s interesting when we look to the other side of the spectrum, when we look at male writers and what we call male characters that are perfect, strong, dependable, have a 10 inch dick flaccid, the whole nine yards, right. Gary Stus is a thing, yeah, but you know what most people call these male characters? Power fantasies. Just look at this idiot’s next tweets.

I’ll never get this obsession with the Hero’s Journey. You know there’s other structures in place, right? Most film schools teach you other methods because guess what? Some stories won’t fall into the hero’s journey. Wow! What a concept! 

Also, what textbook is telling us the protag has to be weaker than the villain? Where’s this fundamental rule I missed while attending screenwriting class? (I love that he doesn’t use the term antagonist in this comparison either. Who says a story has to have a villain?)

This is a funny comparison to me. Rey’s establishing scene is literally her scavenging on a desert planet and being on her own. Yeah, she might not have technical training on how to wield a lightsaber, but you know what she does know how to swing? A fucking staff.

It’s believable to me that a woman who has spent her entire life fighting for survival can beat the absolute shit out of the entitled pissbaby that is Kylo Ren in the first movie. (Edit 1: a friend reminded me that Kylo also got shot by a goddamn WOOKIE BOWCASTER before this scene too. COme the fuck on guy.) 

Yeah, the fucking writing takes a nose dive in subsequent films because adult ass men can’t be bothered to write a fucking outline for their movie trilogy but that’s just me. Jfc I hate the sequel trilogy (Finn and Rose my loves they did you dirty) but I hate this dude more for making me defend them.

I hate the tone of this tweet. I’m sorry, random dude on the internet, you somehow became the leading authority on how any story starts now? If everyone used this convention, you have to understand how oversaturated the market would become? Hello???

Don’t get it twisted, Rings of Power is a HOT mess. I wouldn’t touch that show with a fucking suspension crane. But like. Look. Listen. 

This moron doesn’t know how to write.

I don’t want to be mean but come the fuck on. You’re seriously not going to look at this scene, of Galadriel (who has spent fuckall trying to find Sauron to avenge her brother’s stolen hairline) with a squad of elves she knows don’t wanna be there, who aren’t on her side, and see that she’s willing to sacrifice whatever it takes (her fellow countrymen or access to literal Heaven) to kill Sauron fucking dead, I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell you. You might actually have rocks for brains. 

Hell, I’ll put my money where my mouth is. I’ve got a screenplay that deals with a similar introduction of the main characters to that of Galadriel. Three necromancers in a graveyard in a post-apocalyptic world get attacked by chimeric monsters and you know how the scene goes down? They wipe the floor with the chimera. Cause you know. Necromancers. 

Adrian the character puts it aptly: 

There’s blood, guts, and death magic everywhere. It’s fucking sick. There’s no risk here to them but guess what I’m trying to do here: the scene is meant to show that the three mcs are both 1) young/immature and 2) deadly. You know what else I’m doing? I’m establishing the world the characters are in is a dangerous, violent place. Contrasting their ease in this first fight to their fights in later “episodes” with alchemists and literal avatars of gods, where they only get out of those situations alive due to intervention from their absent minded mentor, the chimera actually prove to be the least of the main trio’s problems.

Now, I have no idea if the scene from Rings of Power had any kind of thought put into it the way I’ve thought about my introduction scene (I stopped after the second episode) but idk, these types of scenes have merit if you just used your fucking brain, I think. Just because a fight scene doesn’t have any “risk” involved for a character in it doesn’t make it worthless.  

Also I don’t know about you but I would not run straight into a fucking troll. I’d let the bitch gnaw on Henry’s leg too if it meant not having it take a bite out of my ass. 

Don’t they mention that they haven’t seen a troll in centuries during that scene too? I’m sorry, encountering a fucking creature that hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years? And you’re expecting me not to shit my pants? I’m supposed to strike a pose and tell the short haired bitches behind me to squad up? They complained the whole climb up here! Of course I’m going to get my fucking bearings first! 

Anyone in any kind of military occupation (ew) will also likely never suggest you going Leeroy Jenkins on a troll when more often than not, hm, yeah, you’re gonna get eaten. 

You’re never seen combat. Pray you never do. STUPID POINT. MOVING ON. 

Further down the thread, this dude makes more reductive points about storytelling that is probably dryer than the women that have to deal with him on a regular basis. These women are in my thoughts. 

TO MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PART OF THIS THREAD. This dude’s weird obsession with femininity. 

So this is a segway but this dude’s really weird feminine talk reminds me of a character from my aforementioned screenplay that is the exact thing this guy is looking for in a female character. 

Maria the character (lol) is kind, brave, she wears really cute accessories in her hair, she always gives her support and aid to any that need it, her main priority is her family and she’s the deadliest antagonist in the screenplay. The whole time she’s been playing on the mcs’ (and the "audience"’s) assumptions that she’s a soft cottagecore uwu dream girl and manipulating them, reading the characters’ minds without them knowing to make sure she is always saying the things they want to hear from her. And that’s before she unveils how fucking good she is with spacial magic (basically a portal gun made into a spell) and beating one of the mcs to near death for “picking up the wrong spoon” during tea time. 

At one point I made it so in her backstory, Maria led three separate planets to fucking ruin because she’s the leader of hundreds of cults. These cults are all the same: they believe in only ever being kind and generous and loving your fellow man, but they also believe the same thing Maria does: if you’re not 100% of the time being kind and giving then you’re better off dead. She was killing children for not wanting to share candy with each other before the main antagonist showed up and “redeemed” her. (She was a girl ♪♪ he was a frankenstein human with a god complex ♪♪) Love this journey of a fellow Piscean going, “wait, maybe I can be fixed” and then being made worse. Now she wants to meld the entire universe together into a fucked up hivemind to achieve true understanding amongst mortals. I had to include the “killing children” part because I know some of you mfs would look at this small Mexican woman, with her baby face and flowing skirts and kind voice, and take her side, even as she led you to your demise. Actually, hell, some of you might even excuse the “killing children” part! In my heart I know this fucking dude would fall for Maria’s whole schtick immediately.

(That’s how you write villains btw.)

Anyway, my main point: Femininity is not soft. 

My favorite scene that I’ve written with Maria the character so far is when the main cast realize she’s been orchestrating the end of the world behind their backs alongside the main antagonist. As she’s leaving the scene with one third of the main trio with her (Cora, the one beat to near death over a fucking spoon) and the main antagonist (who is also near death because we like symmetry in this house!), the other two necromancers (Adrian + Maxwell) obviously try to stop her. The way she gets them to let her leave with their companion is masterful. 

Because she doesn’t threaten them with violence, doesn’t hoist their friend up in front of her like a shield. 

No.

She tells them she’s pregnant.

At this moment in the screenplay, Maxwell the character has been heavily relying on religion to grant him comfort from a world where the end of humanity is in sight and he has to see people stop looking like people the more desperate they get. I explore the concept of survival a lot in this screenplay. At the end of the world, what are you willing to lose? How far are you willing to go before you stop acting like a person?

Maxwell, at this point, doesn’t know. He’s terrified about the prospect of it. 

And here? Maria doesn’t even mock him for it. But the way she asks him, forces him to realize he has to decide between the love of a God (because they both know it’s to the death if combat is introduced) and his friend, well, it breaks him.

What an evil bitch. I love her so fucking much.

Femininity is not soft.

And that’s how I know this stupid motherfucker can’t write. Because women aren’t a monolith, the same fucking way men aren’t a monolith. He’s putting very clear misogynist ideals onto these fictional women because what? He has a narrow view of the world and if a woman in a movie or tv show somehow manages to get a sniff of agency (and that’s if the writers somehow manage to rub two brain cells together to even get to that point), suddenly she’s a Mary Sue? 

At this point, what the fuck does this dude want? 

This is literally Galadriel. All these traits and ideals can be attributed to Galadriel too LMAOOOOO

Kinda telling in this freudian slip here, where instead of referring to them as protagonists (which they are in their respective stories), this dude would refer to Galandriel… as the antagonist? The mislabeling, bruv. Muddling terms used as foundation for storytelling just to dunk on female characters isn’t a good look.

Patrick Bateman is an investment banker that kills people. He stabs a homeless man and kills his dog because his colleague’s business card was nicer than his. He is still the protagonist because he is the central character of American Psycho and we are following his story.

I also refuse to believe that the mislabeling is intentional on his part. I don’t think this man has the brain cells to understand themes. Or irony, if that’s his angle here.

Great advice, guy. Riveting. I love that he’s saying this when his occupation is literally a ghostwriter lmao. Think about your job security, guy!

I love the extra heap of irony that he's instead pivoted to writing... a memoir? Why the fuck is a memoir ghostwriter trying to give me advice on how to write a story lol

Hopefully these people are cool with the fact that this dude admitted that he ghost writes for them. I really hope they were told he was going to admit that. Ghostwriting is a fine occupation but people lose a lot of credibility when it’s revealed they have a ghostwriter. Lord knows I’m not gonna trust their advice when they went to this guy to write for them. Oof.

(What the fuck is a memoir mashup. I’m not being facetious here, I actually don’t know what this is. Help?) 

I love that this dude just randomly talks about getting the “strongest possible emotional” response from readers. Then. Shares this screenshot. Of a guy being like, “yeah i bought three copies from you. And a book from a separate author. The separate author mention is the most interesting part of this tweet.”

(EDIT 2: I JUST REALIZED THIS TWEET ISN’T EVEN DIRECTED AT HIM??? I’M SCREAMING, WHY DID HE SHARE THIS IF IT’S NOT DIRECTED AT HIM????????)

Like. My guy. You really think I’m opening my wallet up and… getting advice from you? I’d rather redo coverage of an old classmate’s fantasy screenplay with characters that didn’t have names and instead were referred to as “KNIGHT” or “THIEF” the entire time. They all talked the same. He sent the screenplay as a google doc.

I’d rather do that. 

God, I love when idiots need to advertise their shitty services. 

This added with a gross transphobic tweet that he liked from someone dumb enough to reply in agreement with him, I mean. You know this. I know this. This guy has a receding hairline, can’t get bitches, can’t write, and is releasing youtube videos on how he utilized “cancel culture” and turned it into profit. 

(Yeah, cause getting 10M impressions and less than 10k likes on the start of your thread is really sticking it to the mob.)

He’s a goddamned loser. And not even like… a sexy loser. Like me. I’m a loser. You can say, “Mars don’t say that'', but I literally almost got kidnapped a month ago and the only reason I didn’t is because I told the dudes telling me to look at the back of their car for “cheap designer clothes” that I was actually late for work so I couldn't but “thanks for offering”! Also this rebuttal is over 3k words long. Trust me. I’m a loser. I still get bitches though. They let me hit it cause I’m goofy and forklift certified. 😎 (I have the glasses on because i cry every time I have to use a forklift.)

Writing conventions are conventions for a reason. They’re an establishment. So please, don’t take my proverbial beatdown to heart. (Unless you’re OP of the thread, I hope this makes you cry. <3) For all my bitching, there’s a reason why the Hero’s Journey is still taught in school. But do you have to necessarily follow long established conventions? Nah. 

I would get constant notes from my professors about needing to stick to conventions because it was a good way to tell a good story. And yeah, I semi-agree. But when I would get coverage from my peers, the other students in my classes? They loved the shit out of my stories. They loved the fact that I subverted conventions. Because that’s the type of writer I am. And there’s plenty of writers out there that only write conventional stories, but it’s through their execution that the story still ends up becoming a fulfilling experience. 

For all of my bitching of the writing for these female characters, people still enjoy all the media discussed here. There will always be someone that looks at something you wrote and think, “this is amazing”. I promise you. Even if you’re writing the most cliche story in the world or the most ridiculous out of control story in the world, there will always be someone willing to love your work, exactly the way it is.

There is no right way to tell a story. Don’t let dickheads tell you that there’s a clear cut way to write a story. Not even dickheads like me!

Now go write some Mary Sues, bitch. 

[huenjin]

shootout.

there’s nothing like a shootout that lets two partners bond the best.

pairing: bang chan x reader | detectives!au genre: action, romance word count: 5k words warnings: crime, blood, killings, language, implicit mention of sexual activity

part of the domestic disturbance series.

"Chan, look at this," you drag your fingers over the side of the muscle car, pointing out several holes, feeling the depression clearly. Your eyes slowly trail towards the fresh blood by the window and you gasp, "Bullet holes and blood."

The thin silence is broken by the scream that comes from inside the warehouse. Your eyes widen and Chan quickly whisper-yells at you, "Quick! Move!" You and Chan move towards the door after drawing your guns out. 

You press your ear closer to the door. Behind it, you can hear mumbling and clanking of metal. You mouth to Chan, "What the hell is going on in there?"

He places a finger over his lips and you nod. Chan crouches down and peeks through a crack in the door. You lean over and whisper, "What do you see?"

"Multiple people. Someone is lying down on his back in the middle of the room. The light is flickering and someone's standing over the man." He peeps further. "There's movement in the back too. Maybe one. No, there are two to three people behind."

Suddenly, in a flash, there's another howl of pain and you grip Chan's arms in surprise, moving closer to him. Chan turns to look at you, your face edging so close to him that he can see your eyes glistening and how sharp your nose is. He takes in a huge breath in surprise and closing his eyes, he informs you, "We're going in."

You stand back and Chan winds up, kicking in the door. Chan yells as he rushes forward, "Police! Freeze!" 

You look around at the makeshift operation room with a lot of medical equipment around. A shirtless man is lying on an operation table in the centre of the room and a man in a white doctor's coat who you presume to be Dr. Kim stands over him, prying a bullet wound from his shoulder. The two bulky men who stand behind have their guns aimed at you, narrowing their eyes. One of them has a scar over his face and the other over his neck, both fierce enough to scare you.

"What the hell is this? What the fuck is going on?" The doctor speaks up, looking at the two of you shifting his gaze from the patient to your guns.

"Put your guns down," the bulky man behind the doctor barks. "Now!"

The other bulky dude yells, "Do it!" You and Chan keep your guns pointed finely at the two said bodyguards behind.

The black build of the gun is heavy and it's awfully familiar. The walls are closing in on you and you take deep breaths in. It's the sound of the child screaming and bullets firing. Your pulse is rapid and hot against your skin. You feel the beads of sweat forming by your forehead.

Chan takes a step to your side, speaking, "Let's just take it easy. No one has to get hurt."

"I have a feeling that it won't be that easy, Detective," Dr. Kim informs Chan, his lips tugging to the right to form a smirk. "I'm afraid so."

Chan's shoulder bumps into yours and he looks at you for a second, nudging at you, "Are you alright? You don't look so well."

"I've been better," you smile nervously. The gun trembles in your hand and Chan looks at you, worried. He notices your shivers and your beads or perspiration by your forehead. He wants to protect you and he swears he'll do exactly that.

The shirtless man on the table moans and grunts, looking to the side to see you and Chan, before yelling, "You bastards. Do you know what my family," he groans, "will do to you?"

"Chan," you gasp, your grip on the gun getting harder. "That's Amanozako Susanoo. Ranking officer and scion of the Amanozako drug cartel. The same case that the NIS put me off."

"Ah, fuck," Chan shakes his head, disappointed. "You're now a mob doctor, Kim? Stitching up cartel foot soldiers? I hope you at least get paid well for this."

"We all have to make our living, Detective," Kim shrugs. "After that sham malpractice, I've struggled. Now if you'd let me, I'd like to operate here."

Chan glances at you uneasily, his tongue poking at his inner curve of the cheek. The bodyguards adjust their grip on their guns and the lightbulb that hangs over the table shifts in the wind, causing the knife in one of the bodyguards to glisten and hit your eyes. Dr. Kim slowly resumes examining Susanoo's wound.

"Back away, pigs, if you value your life," Susanoo seethes and you click your tongue.

"We just want to talk," Chan is firm and Susanoo flips the two of you his middle finger and swears, "On dore, ē konjō shi toru ya nai ke! I ain't talking to you both."

"Not you, Susanoo. We want to talk to Dr. Kim."

"Me? You want to talk to me?" Dr. Kim looks at the two of you, worried.

"They're playing you, doc. The minute you get outta the line of fire, they're going to haul me off. Kutabare! Keep working!"

Dr. Kim looks at the two of you and then the bodyguards before resuming the examination on the wound.

"Susanoo, just tell your men to put down their guns. We'll get you to the hospital," you suggest. He is furious, even more so after your suggestion.

"I ain't going to any hospital, yariman," he seethes in anger and Chan loads the gun in the heat of the moment, yelling back at Susanoo, "Call her that once more and this bullet flies straight into your skull."

You can only guess what Susanoo said, but it was safe to presume it is something offensive because Chan responds rudely enough for the bodyguards to step forward in defense. You yell, "Hey! Hey! Back off."

Everyone's yelling. Chan shifts and points his gun at Susanoo, seconding your voice, "Tell your men to back off, Susanoo or I swear to god, I'll put a hole in your head." There is commotion around when Susanoo yells back, "Oh, big talk, little man. You do that. And you and your girlfriend are next."

"Yeah, probably. But you'll be too dead to appreciate that," Chan bites back. Susanoo's face hardens and he continues, "Just let us take the doctor. That's all we ask."

"It's not going to happen," Dr. Kim refuses. "I'm not going to the prison again. Not when you even brought a former NIS agent with you this time round."

"Who said anything about the prison, doctor?" You ask. "We just want to talk to you about something." The doctor digs deeper into the wound to find the bullet. Susanoo screams in agony.

"It's about the Maskmaker?" He laughs. "You think I'm the Maskmaker?"

Susanoo chides in, "The dude that has been killing all those girls? Doc, is that you?"

"Oh, that's just ridiculous," he digs further for the bullet out from Susanoo's body as he screams again. "The idiocy of this city's police department has no bounds."

"So you'll answer all the questions we have for you?" You ask. Dr. Kim jerks the tweezer out of Susanoo's shoulder and drops the bullet into a tiny steel plate. The patient is screaming in agony and the doctor smiles, "There! That's the bullet. Anyone with even a little medical training can stitch you up from here."

"You're leaving?" Susanoo asks.

"Yeah," the doctor smiles. "I'm going to leave with them to get this absurd mess sorted."

"We'll take the doctor and leave," Chan informs. "You and your men can disperse by then."

Dr. Kim places the instruments carefully, the metal clinking and slowly tells, "I'm just going over to then slowly. You understand?"

"Yeah, doc. I understand," Susanoo smirks. "Understand this!" He yells. He whips his hand out from behind his back, pointing a chromed semi-automatic pistol right at you. You heave in a huge breath, your eyes widening and your grip on your gun faltering.

Chan sees red, like paint that spills over his vision. He has been seeing red from the minute Susanoo laid his filthy eyes on you and so Chan doesn't think much when he pulls the trigger.

The gunshot is as good as a hypodermic to the heart. It isn't simply loud, it cracks into the air and echoes around the walls, resonating and magnifying the feeling of our vulnerability. A bright red circle appears in the centre of Susanoo's forehead. His head snaps back and the blood splatters all over the table and over the doctor's white coat.

"No!" The doctor screams. Susanoo's body falls off the table and the doctor tries to hold it. He falls to the ground and you hurl yourself along with Chan behind a wooden cabinet in the commotion.

"Jesus! He killed the wakagashira," one of the bodyguards says, while the other screams, "Kill him. Kill him. Shoot him now."

Chaos follows. Both the bodyguards open fire, aiming at the cabinet and everywhere in the room, their shots whizzing audibly past you. You fire off one shot, miss and throw yourself forward, flipping over another operating table to use it as a cover. Chan looks at you, worried, yelling over the gunshots piercing through the air, "Are you alright, Y/N?"

"I'm fine," you raise your gun to show you were unscratched. Chan heaves out a sigh in relief, turning his focus back on the guards. You peek around the cover and see the two guards crouching behind the cover. Dr. Kim scampers away, retreating into the darkness.

"Get back here, Kim!" Chan aggravates. Upon hearing his sound, the guards fire again. The side of the cabinet bursts open, spraying Chan with wooden splinters and you wince. Chan pulls himself back luckily.

"You're a dead man," the guard screams. More bullets explode against the cabinet. One of them blows a huge chunk of it and Chan scrambles to stay behind cover. 

"I'm pinned down here," he hisses at you. You look at him worried, wondering how you could help and realise that you are staying covered under a steeled operation table. You tell him, "Get here when you can."

Suddenly, there's the sound of an engine revving in the back to the warehouse. Your knees straighten instinctively and you stand barely up, swearing, "Damn it! He's getting away!"

The guards see you and Chan groans, "Ah, Y/N," and he leaps forward, pulling you down with him, taking cover behind the operation table as the guards open fire again furiously. Chan falls on top of you and you wince in the impact. He quickly lifts himself up, his body weight supported on the hands that are pressed on the ground by either side of your face. He whispers, leaning closer towards you, "Let him go. We can't get him without risking ourselves, you idiot. Stay down!"

Outside, the car revs up and zooms away and your head falls to the side, disappointed, "He got away."

Chan supports his body weight on his left arm as he leans closer and brushes the hair away from your face, cupping your face with his right hand for a second or two. Your cheeks stain red and you hate that you're having a moment when you could be shot dead along with Chan. He presses a quick kiss on your forehead, his feel lingering for a long time before he sits up, "We'll get him the next time, okay?" And you nod, biting your lower lip and tugging at it nervously.

Caught up in the moment you just shared with Chan, you don't notice how quiet the room has gone. You nudge at him and mouth, "Listen, Chan." The room is eerily quiet and neither of the guards shoot.

"Are you two ready to surrender?" Chan asks.

There's no response. None at all. You can hear the soft padding footsteps and the sound of someone fumbling with a glass bottle. You smell rubbing alcohol and your eyes enlarge. There's the sound of the cloth crumpling and a lighter flicking.

"They are making a Molotov cocktail!"

"We have to shoot," you tell him. "Now!" Chan listens to you. He ducks low, under the bottom of an adjacent cabinet as he slowly crawls till there with you hot on his heels ("I'm not losing you now," you had said.) and Chan gets a clear view of the bodyguard's feet from here.

Chan's kind enough to give a heads up as he shouts, "Hey, you!" before firing off a shot. The bodyguard's shoe bursts open and he screams, falling down and dropping the Molotov cocktail on himself. He writhes on the floor, engulfed in bright red flame laced with blue trails and you press your lips at the site, looking away quickly.

"That leaves one." Chan walks ahead and looks around for the other person. Meanwhile, the other bodyguards loom eerily behind your back, covering your mouth tightly and pulling you back with him. Chan pops over the cabinet and sees no sign of the only remaining bodyguard.

Susanoo's bodyguard drags you to one corner away from Chan. You try breathing loudly but the man has his arms choking your passage and you begin coughing, only for the man to cover his hand over your mouth, the gun edging dangerously close to your face. Impulsively, you throw your head forward, hitting the gun and sending it sliding away after making a loud noise. You cough out loudly when he uncovers your mouth after swearing, "Bitch," and pulling out the knife that you had seen earlier in his pocket and holding it by your neck. It cuts through your skin lightly, blood dripping down slowly.

Chan's eyes embody what you identify as fear. It's the same look you had on the day Minhyuk fell down before you, bleeding after being shot. It is fear that changes to anger when the guard's head peers over your shoulder, breathing onto your skin, telling Chan, "She's a pretty one. A very pretty one. Too bad I can't have more fun with her before shooting her dead."

Chan's knuckles turn white as he grips on the gun tightly, lining up the shot. The man barks, "Put down your gun. Put down your gun, man, unless you want her dead!"

"Okay, okay," he raises his hand, slowly kneeling down. "Just let her go." He lowers his gun, the sound resonating the walls as it hits the ground and kicks it to the right.

"Good boy, good—" He takes his hand away from your neck for a split second but that is all you need to seize the opportunity. You grab his arm and jerk him down — his knife cutting your skin by the arm and the dermis opens painfully in the hassle — and elbow him brutally in the side of his head. The bodyguard drops to his knees, wobbles for a second and then falls over unconscious.

Chan rushes towards you, pulling your unharmed arm forward, your body falling into his hold as he hugs you tightly. His head snuggles into the curve of your neck as he holds you tightly, mumbling, "I was so scared if he'd kill you. I was so scared." His hand rests on the back of your head as he pulls you into him, your nose buried in his broad, warm chest. He places a kiss — a peck, a barely there contact of his lips — against your forehead as he pulls back to look at you properly. The blood from your forearm stains his shirt but he doesn't seem to mind, caught up in the overload of emotions he feels.

Your head is empty. The pain is still loud but it seems to be fine when Bang Chan hugs you so tight that he wishes he could do that always. You pull away from his grip and look around the place. 

"We just killed Amanozako Susanoo," Chan reaffirms. 

"Yes," you smile at him, your cheeks still heated up. "Yes, we did."

"Yes, sire," you respond politely, "Yes, I will have the full write up given to you by tomorrow. Goodbye, sire." And you hang up. Chan starts the car on ignition as soon as you are done with the call. You look to your left and through Chan's being, you see the police cars parked all around the warehouse, the red light illuminating in the late evening. Officers rush into the warehouse, swarming around the place.

"Hey, Y/N," he pauses. He rip out a piece of his shirt absent-mindedly and pulls you forward, trudging your being into the gear stick as he holds your injured arm up and ties the bleeding wound up, the cloth of his white shirt staining red slowly. "Are you alright?"

"A little shaken up," you smile. "And the slight scratches," Chan glares at you and you chuckle, insisting, "I'm fine."

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt," you mumble, relieved. Almost like you can take easy breaths now and the air is a lot less suffocating. "I am, oh my—"

"Hey, hey," Chan frowns. "But you got hurt."

"Meh," you shrug. He looks towards you and your hair is loose, barely keeping it up in that ponytail of yours after the entire commotion but you don't bother to tie it back up properly, letting huge strands of hair fall forwards as you look down at your knees, the jeans now ripped.

"Have you ever been in a shootout before?" Chan asks. 

"Of sorts," you mumble. "It didn't end well though. I was worried today would be a repeat show of that. Sorry for being a wreck in the beginning." 

You pull down the window of his car as he finally pressed on the gas, the car pulling forwards. The breeze pushes the strands of your hair behind and Chan holds his breath in moments like these. He wonders if it is possible for someone to look pretty even after a shootout with scratches and injuries on their body, but you pull it off so well that he thinks it's hot. He thinks it's hot enough that you took the big bulky man down but the way you were unfazed after that, that was sheer excellence in Chan's eyes and all he could do was gape at how beautiful you are. 

"Hey," Chan brings your attention back to him and away from the passing trees and the low noises of the sirens ringing the air. "Did the District Chief reprimand you or something?"

You laugh, "You're kidding, right? Amanozako Susanoo was a drug-runner and a rapist who we suspect of at least eighteen gangland murder. I might just get a medal for this."

"Find Dr. Kim and you might get two," Chan teases, his right hand on the gearstick and the other on the steering wheel, occasionally flashing you a smile or two as he drives.

"Chan," you frown. "I don't think he's our guy. I don't think he's our Maskmaker. The way he acted in there and the way he reacted to us? He didn't seem like it. He doesn't seem to me as someone with a deep psychosis."

Chan sighs, "I had a feeling you'd say that."

Chan's phone rings and the car audio rings along with it. He presses on a button on the steering wheel, putting Captain Han through the line. 

"Detective!"

"Cap!"

"Hey, Captain," you laugh over. Chan smiles and informs, "You're on speaker technically, Cap."

"About Dr. Kim," Captain Han starts.

"We don't think he did it, Cap," Chan cuts him off. He nervously chews on his bottom lip and looks at you. "We don't think Dr. Kim is our guy."

"What in the world?" 

"He doesn't seem like it," you explain further. "I know it might seem like he is the guy but we spoke to him, Captain. He doesn't seem like it."

"I don't want to hear it, the two of you," his voice is firm and authoritative. "Amanozako Susanoo is dead, Dr. Kim escaped and now you're telling me that he might not be the killer?"

"It's a working theory," Chan protests and you heave out a sigh in frustration.

"I appreciate that you're working on theories, Chan—" 

"Thanks," he sheepishly smiles. 

"But what facts do you have to support it? All the evidence points towards Dr. Kim being the Maskmaker. He even matches the profile Y/N made," Captain Han tells and your eyebrows rise at him calling you by your first name. 

"Ah, yes, but—" you trail.

"I don't want to hear it, Y/N," he says, frustrated. "Unless the two of you can back up your allegation, Dr. Kim remains as our prime suspect.

"Listen to me, Cap—"

"No, you listen to me. Because of you, we've got one cartel officer in the morgue, one in the burn ward and," Captain pauses. "Y/N resulted in the third one with a broken jaw." You click your tongue in annoyance.

"I did what I had to do," you blatantly say.

"It was a righteous shoot!" Chan whines and Jisung is quick to respond.

"I know and that is why you're not being suspended. Again. I pulled every string and cashed every favour I had with the Commissioner to let you two continue this case, or at least till we have Dr. Kim brought to justice."

"Thank you," Chan decides to choose his words wisely. "I appreciate it."

"I want the two of you back at the precinct to search for—"

"I can't, however, oblige with that request of yours, Cap," Chan cuts Namjoon's sentence and you're surprised at him refusing an order.

"Why, may I ask?"

"Y/N's injured. I'm not coming anywhere near the precinct till I have her taken care of," Chan responds in monotone and you look away, cheeks staining red. You also want to yell at Chan to stop treating you like some fragile doll but you won't deny that the care felt nice.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Captain's voice booms through the speaker, louder this time.

"I'll be fine, Captain. It's probably nothing and Chan is overreacting."

"You won't stop bleeding, so shut up."

"Uh, I'll leave you two to it." Captain Han's voice pipes in between your quarrel and you mumble, "Okay."

The Captain hangs up and you roll your eyes at Chan, "I'm not injured severely."

"You're injured nonetheless," his voice rises and he glares at you, pressing on the gas a little bit more. 

You mumble, incoherently, "I'm fine," and Chan chooses to ignore it, turning on the radio news.

Captain Han's voice booms through the speakers as he addresses a crowd of reporters, "Thank you for coming here today. As you already know, we have a break in the Maskmaker case. We now have a primary suspect: Dr. Kim Ilwoo. At the moment, Dr. Kim remains at large but we hope that the citizens of Seoul will cooperate in our attempts to bring him to justice…"

"Everyone — Every cop — is going to be behind Dr. Kim while the real Maskmaker is still at large."

"That's not good," you sigh and you notice Chan pulling into the parking lot of a residential complex.

"Yeah, it isn't," he says, unbuckling his seat belt after parking. He leans forward and hovers over your body, as you can feel his breath by your face, the cold essence of peppermint chewing gum fresh from his mouth. He unbuckles your seat belt for you and looking at you with his nose brushing past yours slightly, he says, "We're here."

This night is definitely going to be a recipe for a disaster. You know it.

Chan fumbles with his key, trying one after another from the bunch and you laugh, murmuring, "Should have divided them."

"Then, I'd lose them," he pointedly stares at you before finding the right one and opening the door. 

The room gives away his new bachelorhood, or the very least you presume he has had a recent breakup.

Everything is functional. The mantle is where he puts his keys and garage door opener. On the coffee table is a wrench set and a new set of wheels for a longboard. Under the small eating table is a pack of beer. You are guessing that the fridge-freezer holds meals for one and he has more clothes in his laundry basket than in his closet. He's not hopeless though, he clearly knows one end of a vacuum cleaner from the other. He's got modern looking prints of the wall and a small photo of his folks on a side table. You identify Jisung, Felix and Hyunjin from there. He's never decorated, that's for sure, but then who paints a rental place? You know you wouldn't.

He turns, smiling shyly, not a look you've seen on his face before. Spending time with Chan entitled you to see a lot of different shades in him. You can't help but smile back — he brought you to his place against the order of his captain just to take care of you. You are dead sure that this is enough to steer you from the loud thoughts screaming at you to not let history repeat again. But you're a fool. A fool for Bang Chan.

Your eyes linger uneasily on the cardboard boxes taped with elephant tape that is arranged carefully against the corners. Chan tells you to sit on his sofa. It's a pretty nice place for a detective of his ranking and you watch him move around in his house. He brings a bag full of content and pushes the table in front of the sofa to the side as he kneels before you.

In the dim lighting of his home, Chan looks beautiful. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. You guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they normally looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. 

This is a man you wanted to know more than you'd ever felt before. How could you ever hold back your soul from touching his?

Chan helps you out of your boots and you laugh, "I'm not handicapped, Chan," and shove his arms away, your chest vibrating and the walls echoing your laughter. 

He continues to help you out of your boots even after that, mumbling, "Let me help." And your hands stop midway as you watch how gently he takes them out and places them by your side. He sits by your side and drags the bag closer to him along with the tub of water and cloth. He unwraps the piece of cloth he had tied your injury with and throws it to the side. 

He winces visibly, "That's a deep cut," and rubs his forehead before muttering, "Ah, that bastard."

You don't say anything as you watch him. He uses his left hand to apply pressure on the cut, praying that the bleeding reduces. He dips the new white cloth into the water and cleans the area along with the help of a soap. You clench your teeth in the pain that hits you as he cleans the injury. He wipes the cloth over your neck too, edging his face closer to you as his left hand leaves your arm and grips your face to angle it. You are flustered and take steady breaths in, praying that he doesn't notice your heartbeat rising because of him.

He applies antibiotic ointment over it and covers the area with a sterile bandage, the two of you engulfed in nothing but the silence, your breathing and the sound of the fan rotating. He moves back and smiles to himself, "There, all done," and moves his gaze up at you only to find you staring at him already.

You had promised yourself to never repeat history again; to never fall in love with a fellow partner; to never like another man who swore to protect justice at all costs.

But promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

As you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows and feels the same because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. Chan pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you. 

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt. 

And the two of you move against each other as the night darkens, covering everything and the gasps and breathless sighs that take over the soft air in the room has nothing against the two of you — the two of you that hold each other in some sort of desperation for physical reassurance. For some sort of hope that the two of you diffuse into each other.

[peculiarpatches]

𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 - 𝘫𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘹 𝑓𝑒𝑚 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

I’m republishing this since it hardly got notes the last time and I’m ~ crazy ~ and need validation that my stories are good. Out of all the Twilight ones I’ve been working on, this still is one of my favorite’s because it’s the first one I’ve ever written. It’s the first one that got me inspired to write for the other characters, too. So, as much as I love this one, I hope you love it, too.

A/N: This story includes smut. If this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read. Simple as that. 

 There’s not much other than oral and dirty talk, however. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Centuries — that's how long Alice and Jasper have been together for.  The two were simply inseparable; Stuck to each other like glue. It'd take millions of weapons  and hundreds of people to try and tear them apart, no matter what happened or what went on in their crazy, immortal lives, it didn't matter, no, because they lived for each other. 

Their lives were better, happier, because of that other person.  

And nothing - nor, nobody - was ever going to change the fact.   Jasper wasn't one to express his feelings (though, he could control other people's emotions,  ironically enough) but that small grin you  see every now and then across his face  was all thanks to Alice.

 The smile belonged to her because she was the one that brought peace, happiness, and love back into his life, even when he swore he'd never find it. Hell, he swore he'd never find any of those listed off again, if he was being honest here. But... she somehow did it. She brought all of those into his life along with hope and faith.  (Alice told him that very saying too upon their first encounter  together - the moment she took his hand with her own, she felt hope. And she hadn't felt that in centuries. He never met the gal before, not having a single clue as to who she was. Here he was, sitting in a  diner in  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, trying to figure out where he planned to go afterwards, where his next stop would be within the states when an attractive woman walked up to him, letting a happy, relieved sigh fall from her lips. "It's about time." She announced, the grin growing across her face as she slid in the opposite side of the booth, guiding her hand out to take Jasper's hand within her much smaller one. She gave his fingers a squeeze and explained the situation, the happiness on her face only growing wider and brighter as she continued to talk. Jasper was  confused, to say the very least;  But her emotions overwhelmed him so much, in his gut and in his heart, he felt as if he could trust her, right then and there. 

Even if they have only have met that day, she spoke about the future and to others, they would have laughed and called her crazy. But the way she spoke, so open, so generous, loving and kind, all these feelings directed towards him, he felt it, too - love. Love at first sight, if you will. And Jasper had ever only felt that once and it lasted briefly.  But this time, as he continued to listen to her speak,  a tiny grin found it's way across his lips. In-love, he was. As absurd, and as crazy as it may sound, he could feel it. They belonged together. And the gal - Alice - was exactly like him, too. Of course, she would be, having a power like that and all.  Alice saw them in the future, had seen Jasper plenty of times in her mind but didn't know exactly when she'd be meeting him.  She admitted today, however, she knew.  Jasper even said he felt something today, too. He just didn't exactly know what it was. But he felt it. The emotions were difficult to ignore. He laughed and leaned close, whispering to Alice he assumed these feelings he felt within him were nothing but hunger. "You won't have to worry about that, either." She told him. "I know a way of keeping not only you safe but me, as well. To keep your hunger satisfied without harming or needing to hunt humans." Alice continued. Jasper cocks his head to the side, confusion written across his facial features, as he wondered what she meant by this. Instead of asking, as he figured he'd understand more of the situation later, he chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze which she happily returned. "Well, now you have me and I promise you, I won't ever let a pretty gal like you go, either." He said, making the smile on her face somewhat bigger than what it was before. "I wouldn't let you lose me, anyways." She responded. "Besides, I see the future here, don't I? None of that will be happening. You're stuck with me, Jasper." Jasper laughed gently, "I'm more than perfectly fine w'tha, darlin'." He commented, his accent  drawing out as he spoke.)   (Love - Jasper never wanted to look for it. Never sat down and thought about having a significant other.   He assumed he'd be alone, forever. And as dull and as depressing as that may be, he was content with it. Who could love someone as broken and as damaged as he? His past was fucked up. Surely, his future was going to remain the exact same, too. So, to Jasper, he figured it'd be best to be alone. He didn't want to put his baggage onto another person for them to carry and haul out. He'd do it himself, without a doubt or without a care in the world; he'd drag his own baggage behind him.

 Not once, did he ever think or want to allow people to see what secrets he held within the case, within himself.  But, life is amusing and love has a funny way of revealing itself. Though, so secretive and mysterious, hardly ever speaking a word to strangers, let alone any other vampires, a girl who saw the future and saw him in it, already knew all the secrets he kept hidden away from the world. 

Alice knew what Jasper's past was like. And she still accepted him. Still loved him. "If you're broken, you don't have to stay broken." She said, that same very night. "I won't let you be, neither. We'll fix each other's broken, shattered pieces, we'll place them right back together. Fit the two of them together like puzzle pieces. 'Cause, I believe that's what you are to me. You are the piece of the puzzle I've been searching to find. Been waiting centuries to come across.  And now that I finally found you, I have hope and faith once more - that everything is okay. And I hope that you believe me, too, when I say these words but; I love you, Jasper.. and again," she joked, a goofy grin playing out on her cheeks, "I see the future and therefore, I know you believe me, too. I also know you love me as well." 

And Jasper said nothing. He only chuckled deeply and nodded. He met her then and there, not once meeting her elsewhere before but  he loved her, too. And he didn't need to say those three words out loud because she already knew how much she meant to him.) (His future was brighter, better, because of Alice. And he couldn't thank her enough for showing him that life was better when you found that special someone by your side.  He found both - happiness and hope - within not only her but the Cullen family. Alice along with a man named Carlisle, even helped Jasper with his hunger and taught him how to remain strong and fight his urges.

 As Alice mentioned beforehand, back at the diner, she was going to help him. And she did. Not once did she ever break her promise to him.) However, that's when everything falls back onto him. When everything starts breaking. Decades. Centuries. Years and years together. It was bound to happen, eventually, right? Boredom. Falling out of love. Finding someone better to fulfill her needs and satisfy her. You get the idea. Jasper was afraid that Alice would announce she no longer loved Jasper, for whatever reason that may be, he didn't know. But he was going to find out today.  *~* Even if he hadn't been watching Alice,  it wouldn't and didn't matter because he could feel her emotions with as much as a second glance and a look in her direction, an overwhelming sensation would flood over him instantly. So, even if he wasn't watching her, he could feel everything she was attempting (but failing) to hide.    The typical, loving and affectionate gaze she would always give him was no longer there.  If it was, it  lasted a millisecond before she'd drop her head, strands of hair falling in front of her face and a frown would replace the look.  Of course, this was not only concerning but worrisome for Jasper. Had he done something wrong? 

If so, what did he do? What could he do to fix it? He didn't want to sound like Edward before he met Bella — dull and depressing and nothing but those but it's exactly how he felt and he hated every aspect of that. 

He and the rest of the Cullen’s made fun of Edward for being so gloom and grey but now, alas, here Jasper was, feeling that exact way. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.  Even Edward, the petty little shit he always was and will forever be, even made a joke about it.  Luckily, he had Bella beside him so Jasper couldn't abuse Edward's emotions and make him feel what he was feeling because she could put up a shield and block it out, protecting Edward.  "Just go and talk to her." Edward said once he saw the look on Jasper's face.

  "Trust me, I'm the mind reader out of all of us here. I know what I'm talking about and I know what's going on. And no, before you ask, I will not give you the answer as to what exactly is going on. You just have to go and find out yourself." He said, tilting his head back as laughter left his lips. 

 Bella scoffed and gave a playful hit to her husband's shoulders before giving Jasper an apologetic smile. The two then had left, going to go and find their daughter, leaving Jasper all alone with his thoughts and worse of all - his feelings.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, Jasper decides it's now or never.  He creeps up the stairs, and the closer he gets to his and Alice's room, he hears her angelic laughter and can practically see her, smiling from ear to ear as the giggles erupted her and hung into the air. Jasper loved her laughter, loved seeing her smile even more. 

He just hated the fact he wasn't the one who was the meaning behind it. If not him, who was?  "Darlin'?" He walks in front of the bedroom door, giving a gentle tap across the frame of it. He rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet as he anxiously waited for an answer. The loud laughter he once heard died down quickly which makes him feel even more anxious. 

Biting his lip, he shuffles and rocks his body back and forth as he still continued to wait until the door was to be answered, not wanting to walk in and upset Alice more by invading her privacy. 

The laughter is replaced now, however, with faint giggles and muffled, hushed whispers. He hears some shuffling and the bed squeaking before finally, Alice is pulling the door open. She stands there, giving Jasper a sheepish, yet shy smile. "Hi, baby." She cooed, leaning up on her tippy toes as she plants a gentle yet adoring kiss on Jasper's cheek.  This took him by surprise because not only did she call him 'baby' but she kissed him and it felt like she hadn't kissed him in years. So, this being said, it brought a smile to his lips. 

 Her upcoming sentence  brought the sides of his lips upward even more, the grin growing and his nerves and anxiety, slowly, dying out.  "You know, I've been expecting you. Wondered when you'd come up here." She said as her feet came back to touch the floor. Alice reaches over, taking Jasper's hand within her own and walks into their bedroom, closing the door behind them as Jasper walks in.  There, on the bed, was another female. She glanced up and smiled shyly, the same way Alice did when Jasper knocked at the door and she saw him behind the frame of it. 

 "Jasper, you remember (Y/N), right?" She asked, dropping his hand as she makes way to the queen sized mattress and makes herself comfortable on the bed, next to (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). They've only met a few times and even then, it seemed so long ago, Jasper had to rethink of when and where they met at.   The graduation party they held and then Bella and Edward's wedding. 

Of course, he remembers now.  Jasper and Alice both would even bump into her while taking a stroll into town every once in awhile and in high school, they shared a few classes together.   ("You two enjoy walks in the rain too?" She had gushed, laughing as she held the umbrella above her head, trying her best to ignore and dodge the rain that fell from the sky above them. Alice and Jasper looked at each other and Alice giggled and nodded. 

"Yes. It's our favorite thing to do. One of our favorite things to do... Would you like to walk with us?" She asked. (Y/N)'s face bled a crimson red and she shook her head before mumbling about how sadly, she couldn't, though she wishes she could. She had to go back to work. She was only walking to grab a quick bite to eat, one that wasn't at the place she worked at. 

"Next time then." Alice said, the smile never dropping from her face. "Of course." (Y/N) replied before waving goodbye to the both of them and walking in the opposite direction.)  Now, coming face to face with her, after a few years of not seeing her, he wouldn't deny the obvious fact; (Y/N) was as beautiful as Alice.   Alice, though, she wasn't the jealous type, he'd never admit that or say it.  Jasper preferred to keep that thought to himself. (Y/N) was human. Jasper remembered. His smile was quick to fall down into a frown as he looked at Alice, wondering why she brought a human into their home. 

She, so easily, could expose our secret too! He thought, the frown only increasing and getting deeper as he furrowed his eyebrows together, trying to come up with an answer as to why she could be here.  And right as that thought popped into his head, Alice gave a nervous giggle and shook her head from side to side. "I'm no mind reader like Edward is but I know what you're thinking, Jas. Come, sit down with us. We've got to talk." And as confused as he may be, - especially with what she just said in front of a human, no less -  Jasper obliges and sits in the middle of them both, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. "What's going on?" He asks,  crossing his arms over his chest as a mixture of emotions paint itself across his face.   Alice, taking a long and deep breath, begins to speak. "Jasper," She began, "It's obvious I haven't been myself lately. I know you've been noticing it. Everybody has, I'm sure."  "Yes," He replied, chuckling lowly as he chewed on his bottom lip, still not piecing two and two together.  "I'm very aware of that, doll."  "Well, I don't know how else to tell you this but that reason is because of (Y/N)."   Once the sentence leaves her, Alice reached over and grabbed (Y/N)'s hand, squeezing it tightly.  Jasper blinked. Once, twice. He didn't understand. Alice and (Y/N) both looked at each other once they took notice of his expression and they erupted into a storm of giggles. 

Almost as soon as it started, however, they stopped and their expressions were quick to change. They went from laughing to a deadpanned glare, both girls wearing masks of seriousness.  "I've been having visions. Of this exquisite, gorgeous and oh, so wonderful girl. And, well, Jasper, some of us don't just have one love but we have two. Maybe even more... but in this situation, in this scenario, it's you two." She explained.  Jasper went from watching his girlfriend to giving a quick glance to (Y/N)'s direction. 

She sat there, silent, but her cheeks spoke another story. One of which, Jasper easily could read and make out.  Her cheeks, like the day they bumped into each other in town, were as red as a rose and she was biting her lower lip as she fumbled with her hands, twisting and twiddling with them as Alice continued to speak.  "I know you feel the same way about her as well. Don't even try to lie or deny it. I've been seeing the visuals everywhere, they play out like scenes in a movie. The feelings for her are the same you have for me. You gained them at the party we had a few months back, the same way I did." And Jasper sat there, feeling dumbfounded but more importantly, he felt foolish too. Of course, he couldn't get away with his thoughts or actions. Alice could see everything. Even before it happened. "That's why I've been distancing myself." Alice continued. "I didn't mean to, my love. It has nothing to do with you, either. You're as perfect as you were when I first met you. So, do not fret and think you have done something wrong because you haven't. However, I had to have you come to me before I could tell you what was going on and why I was acting the way I was. Or... well, come to us, I should say... So, we could show you how this all would work. Us, three, together." Alice's tongue darted out of her mouth as she wets her lips, a look of seduction rising behind her eyes.  "Besides, isn't it every man's fantasy to have two, beautiful women beside  him?" "Or, perhaps underneath him?" And that was the first thing (Y/N) had said during this entire conversation. Jasper would be a liar if he said  both women's words didn't go  straight to his cock, causing it to twitch against the zipper of the pants he wore.  "Come on, Jasper. Admit it. Don't lie to yourself. You've been wanting her for some time, yes? Wanting - no, craving for this for awhile. Now, is your chance. Today and every day, you can have us." Alice purred. She leaned upward, standing up on the tips of her toes as she had done earlier and her tongue comes within contact of Jasper's neck, setting soft but wet and seductive kisses over the smooth, cold surface.  Jasper grunts in reply, eyes fluttering shut as he gives a weak, timid nod. "Hm," He mumbles. "Today and everyday?" He asked, a smirk finding its way on his lips. "I can live with that, darlin'." "Heyyy." (Y/N) mewled, her bottom lip jutting out into a pout. "If she's darlin', what's going to be my pet name?" She asks, the pout only growing bigger yet both Alice and Jasper knew she wasn't truly upset by it. "Considering you just mewled like a kitten, that's what you will be. Now, kitten, why don't you and darlin' both come here and show me a good time, hm? After all, I have been wanting this for some time." Alice tssked, slapping Jasper's chest playfully as he - finally - admitted those words.  (Y/N) said nothing but watched the two with love and fond written across her face.  How did she get so lucky to be involved in this relationship?  She'd never know. Maybe, some things are better unanswered, (Y/N) thought.  She's quick to snap out of her thoughts and standing to her feet, her eyes never leave her now boyfriend and girlfriend's gazes.  (Y/N) strips down to nothing but a matching pair of panties and bra. She watches how Alice and Jasper lazily yet hungrily kiss one another.  Jasper's hands were on Alice's waist while Alice's hands were tangled in between his golden curls, tugging it every now and then as the session grew hotter and as the two grew more sexually frustrated with each other. 

(Y/N) didn't know what to do, truth be told, she didn't think this would have ever happened.  Luckily for her, Alice pulled away and shot her a lovingly glance before their own make out session could get any hotter (and before (Y/N) could get wetter, untouched). 

"C'mere, beautiful.  You're part of this, too, silly." She giggled as she taps Jasper's shoulder, telling him to get off of her with a movement of her finger.  Jasper chuckled lowly as he rolls over, undoing the belt of his jeans and zips them down as he shimmies out of both that and his shirt. "Who would you like to pleasure and please first, lovely?" Alice asked once (Y/N) sat down on the bed. Her face was still the same exact shade of red, it never seemed to vanish or go elsewhere. It seemed to be permanently there, only growing deeper and darker by the second. Both Alice and Jasper loved it. Loved having this kind of power and effect on her. It was a turn on to both vampires.  "Personally, I think you should  pleasure Jasper first." Alice turns to face Jasper who lay beside her  wearing his birthday suit, stroking his cock, eyes fluttered shut as complete bliss and satisfaction takes over. "For me, however, I am enjoying myself. I would very much rather see you two, touching." He said, opening his eyes as he glanced over at Alice and (Y/N).  "I'm happy with that." Alice giggled  as she's quick to lay upon the mountain of pillows behind her,  stripping her shirt over her head and allowing it to fall down the floor.  Oh, she's so filthy.... such an eager slut. She truly has been wanting this for some time. God only knows how long...  He says this - well, thinks it, anyhow - because the woman didn't wear a bra underneath her shirt and the moment she slides out of her skirt, Jasper notices she wasn't wearing panties either. "Touch me, please, (Y/N)." Alice moaned. She  lay back against the cushions as she spread her legs out in a starfish position, her hand resting at Jasper's thigh, fingers sneaking up and curling at his genitals, softly brushing her fingertips across his groin. Her pussy was slick with juices, (Y/N) and Jasper noticed. She was already so drenched, as was (Y/N).  Jasper's cock twitched, knowing both women were as hot and as bothered as he. "Go on, kitten. Don't be scared. I give you permission. We both do. From this moment on, you can touch us and hold us and whatever you please-" "Cause you're ours, as we are yours." Alice finished, shooting Jasper a smile before returning said smile to (Y/N). (Y/N) chewed on her bottom lip, fluttering her lashes and lids shut, she bends forward and presses her mouth on Alice's core, earning a quiet, low whine proceeding to fall from Alice's lips above. "Oh, (Y/N).... please." Alice whimpers, bucking her hips against (Y/N)'s touch. (Y/N) craved nothing more than to please both Alice and Jasper. As of this moment, however, her main focus was pleasuring Alice. All the girl wanted to do was get Alice  to cum, no matter which way it was. (Y/N) could use her fingers, her tongue or Hell, even both, she (nor Alice) didn't care as long as the short haired gal came with a cry of her name and soaked her fingers as she reached her orgasm. That is all (Y/N) wanted. She wanted to be good - be a good girl, for both significant others. Realizing both vampires were hers to love, to hold and to cherish, really just everything in between,  it sent a chill throughout her entire body and caused her cunt to tingle at the realization. The air in the room was bitter and both Alice and Jasper were cold, too. So, really, that could play a huge part together as well.  But (Y/N) knew her cunt was throbbing because of knowing they were hers, as she was theirs. Not because of their icy touches or the harsh, bitter air but because of them. They, all three of them, were together and happy. And just like when Alice found Jasper and him, finding her, (Y/N) really didn't know what happiness was until she met these two. "(Y/N), babygirl, please..." Alice's frustrated voice brings the girl back into reality, allowing her to leave her thoughts. She giggled, sending  little waves of vibrations to  shake against Alice's clit.  She pulled back, much to Alice's disappointment. "Sorry, I got lost in my head. 'M just happy is all. Can't believe this is happening." She admitted. But before Alice or Jasper could answer, (Y/N) is bending back forward, letting her head fall down and her lips capturing Alice's clit once more.   She gave Alice a few kitten licks, gentle, soft and sweet ones before slipping her tongue  in between Alice's folds, licking away as if this was her last thing she was to do on Earth. And really - if they were to die in their sleep or some random meteor hit, (Y/N)  would much  prefer dying while she's buried between Alice's legs and  her mouth would be full of Alice's pussy, her mouth full of her juices as Alice rode her high out on her face. It sounds like a perfect way to go, if she were being honest. Well, that was one option. The other idea and preference was with Alice riding her face, shifting her weight back and forth, grinding her pussy against (Y/N)'s tongue and lips while (Y/N) laid back against the bed, her legs spread in a "V" shape as Jasper slid his cock back and forth, deep inside her pussy, hitting her spot over and over again. All three of them, moaning in perfect harmony. Alice would cum over and over again, nearly drowning (Y/N)'s face  (which, (Y/N) wouldn't be upset at) with her juices as Jasper shot his load deep within her walls, filling her up with his cum. That was also a fantastic way to die. Alice, above, giggled and squirmed as (Y/N) ate her out. "Don't worry." She murmured, hand coming down to intertwine with (Y/N)'s hair as she pulled her girlfriend closer to her womanhood. "You'll have a piece of Jasper, right here, right now. Isn't that right, baby? You want to be a dear and go up behind (Y/N) as she's eating me out and fuck her tight, little, pink pussy? I can tell she needs it. Can feel her, leaving a puddle by my feet. Think - ah, fuck... (Y/N) - think she needs it. I wanna see it, too. Want to see you, fucking her as her face is full of my cunt." Jasper groaned as he fisted his cock, listening to his girlfriend speak while watching his other girl, eating his other lover out. He could have came right then and there. He was quick to get up and walk up behind (Y/N). (Y/N) was, in fact, soaked. Which was a given. It was obvious, even someone without vision could see that just by the high pitched, muffled noises she was making in the back of her throat. You could tell the poor thing needed a cock stuffed deep inside her hole, stretching her out and all. "Jasper, please, just... fuck me already!" She cried. "More than happy to." He replied. Being the fact she was so wet and aroused, the head of his cock pushed inside her, slipping in easily and comfortably. Even though, Jasper isn't (Y/N)'s first, the girl still needed to adjust to his size and the stretch that was his large and thick cock. Out of all the men she has been with (which wasn't a lot, neither. Only four or five.) Jasper was the widest and fullest. Jasper pauses, letting her adjust for a moment or two and it’s only when he hears a faint, "Go ahead, move... You can move," does Jasper push deeper, his cock sliding deeper within her walls, her juices already sticking to his cock as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth against the human. go ahead from you that he pushes deeper. You do open remarkably well for him, and although he takes his time, he’s awed by the fact that it isn’t unbearably long for either of you. You wonder if maybe it’s the fact that it’s him and you’ve done this before that makes it less stressful for you and lets you relax enough and so relatively quickly, too. While Jasper is behind, (Y/N) is stuffing her face full of Alice's pussy, and not a second later, the human girl buries her index and forefinger into her awaiting cunt. "Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh, yes. Oh." Alice chanted, her voice growing higher and higher as her hands curled at the comforter, nails digging into the fabric. "Oh, (Y/N), fuck me just like that! Fuck me, (Y/N)! Fuck me with your fingers, oh, yes. Oh, yesyesyesyes!!!" Alice squeals in delight, eyes closed as she gets closer to her orgasm. "Look at that," Jasper purred, his accent thick as he spoke. He only got like that when he, himself, was close to an orgasm. 

"My girls. My two beautiful girls. You both going to cum? You want to cum for each other and for me, don't you? Go on then. Be my good girls and cum. I'll cum with you." And just like that, both (Y/N) and Alice moaned loudly, Alice shouting her girlfriend and boyfriend's name in a pattern-like style as Jasper growled, fucking into (Y/N) so roughly the frame of the bed smacked against the wall so harshly, all three  knew it was going to leave a dent in the walls. But they couldn't care less. They were enjoying themselves way too much. (Y/N)'s moans were muffled, as she was being drowned by Alice's cum and like the good girl she, oh so badly, wanted to be - she happily swallowed every last drop that Alice squirted at her. (Y/N wanted to make her cum, sure, but didn't even think about the possibility she could make her squirt.)  

"Oh, fuck~ I'm cumming. Oh, fuck....!" And right as she was done, licking up every drop of Alice's pussy juices, her own pussy is being filled up by Jasper. This causes (Y/N) to moan again, an ear piercing scream more than a moan, actually. Which, truth be told, she was embarrassed by it - knowing other people were in the house but she tried not to think about it. All she could actually focus on was Alice and Jasper. That, and her coming down from her peak. Slowly, with a hiss leaving his lips, Jasper pulls out and plops down onto the bed, next to both of his lovely women. "That was fun." Alice said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jasper's cheek.  "So, you aren't mad at me?" She asked, pulling back as she reached over to pull (Y/N) into her arms. 

"Not at all, darlin'. I love you. You know that. Nothing in the world could ever replace or erase my feelings towards you, Alice. It was... unexpected, sure, but I'm happy." Jasper looked over at Alice and (Y/N). "I'm happy with the both of you. And, (Y/N)? I love you, too. I promise, I didn't forget about ya." He said with a low laugh. He kisses Alice first before bending forward and kissing (Y/N) sweetly. "I only have one question left... how does she know about us? About what we are?" "It's kind of obvious." (Y/N) replied, looking up from playing with Alice's fingers and shot Jasper a sheepish smile. "Like Bella did beforehand, I put everything together and it made a lot of sense the more and more I looked at it. That and Emmett told me. Well, I take that back... he didn't exactly tell me but I knew something was odd when I saw you lot at the cafeteria and saw him, carrying a random plastic baggie of eggs. It isn't the most human thing in the world to eat like that. 

Especially with them, being spoiled and rotten, which they were, by the way. You all tried to be secretive and hide who you were but.. you didn't do it exactly well. And again, I did what Bella did. I straight up asked her too if you guys were what I thought you were.  And having known Bella since we were kids, I could tell when she was telling the truth and when she was lying." (Y/N) took a deep breath before continuing. "Plus, I knew things were, uh... supernatural, I guess is the right word here.... anyways, it was when Bella drastically changed. Not only in personality but in everything else. So, I just... kind of figured it out and placed everything together. And like I said, Emmett and Bella practically told me." "Edward truly married a girl who made an oath to keep us and what we are a secret yet easily announced what we are to an old and dear friend... No offense, (Y/N)." "None taken." "I still say I should've snapped her neck at her birthday party then." "Jasper!" "Wait, you tried to do what?" "Anyways, all that matters is we have each other and there isn't any secrets between us." He said, quick to change the subject. "I love you, gals." Speechless and flabbergasted, (Y/N) says she loved him too, Alice following along. Sure, they were vampires and they could easily kill her at any given moment but (Y/N) trusted them. Not only them but the Cullen's as well. (Although, Jasper and Alice, of course, were her favorites out of the bunch.) (Y/N) was now happily part of the Cullen's and was dating the two most wonderful people in the  world and she couldn't want it any other way. (Of course... she did want to be like them. But that's a conversation for another day.) (Little did (Y/N) know, however, Alice already had seen the both of them - her and Jasper - taking turns and turning her into one of them. For obvious reasons, she never brought this up, though. Alice was just happy to know in the end, they'd all be together, forever.)

[thefanficmonster]

Oblivious

Valkyrae (Rae) x Reader (Gender Neutral) ft. Corpse Husband

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: In the most desperate of times, we may or may not be used to hearing the phrase ‘Beggers can’t be choosers’ which is exactly why Y/N’s found themself asking the most hopeless of cases when it comes to love and romance - Corpse, for help.

Requested by Xara. Hi darling! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me - I love writing for Rae (excuse my bi excitement, I’m just a HUGE simp) and I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to do so. Sorry it’s been two months since you requested this but here it finally is and I hope it makes up for the wait. Love, Vy ❤

“Corpse, I’m in desperate need for help.“ I don’t even bother with a friendly or even polite greeting. Being best friends for as long as we have, Corpse and I excluded the politeness that comes with phone calls a long time ago, especially when calling with an emergency. Though, let’s be honest, if I’m calling him on the phone and not on video chat like I usually do, it is an emergency.

“Given that you’re asking me, I can imagine how desperate you are.“ He has the audacity to laugh in response, causing me to roll my eyes. 

Now, don’t get the wrong idea - I love Corpse with all my heart. Him and I have been through A LOT together considering we know each other since we were teenagers. However, there are some instances in life when he simply doesn’t get me. Not that he doesn’t try to, he does and does so very hard, but he rarely succeeds. Trying is what matters, of course. Given that he is my only close friend, I can only ever turn to him with my problems though I try my best not to bother him too much, but when things get REALLY tough, I can’t help but go and vent to him. Luckily, he’s always been very understanding, but it may be because he feels like he owes me for all the times he has turned to me with his problems. I’ve tried to explain that he shouldn’t feel such a way, but that’s rather hypocritical of me cause I feel the same way.

Alright, enough digressing, back on track!

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to summarize how I feel.“ I sigh, plopping down on the couch in my living room, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as I cover my eyes with my hand. “Brutally miserable is, I think, the correct term to use here.“

I hear Corpse let out a quiet ‘oof’, one I think he hoped I wouldn’t hear. “And what led you to finally give in and ask for help, not that I can offer you much?”

I can’t help but snort at that, a snort that serves as a replacement to slapping myself across the face. “Rae texted me yesterday asking if I’d like to play Minecraft with her and I took THREE HOURS to respond! Not on purpose, I just couldn’t think of something good to say!” I know I sound like a whiney kid, but I think I’ve passed that threshold LONG ago. Of course, this whiney kid version of me only surfaces around Corpse and Corpse only. No one else is allowed to see me like this or that would legit be the end of any sort of pride I may have left in me.

“You mean you couldn’t choose between ‘Sure, I’d like that!’ and ‘Of course, I’d love to!’? Please say yes.“ Corpse already sounds disappointed and he hasn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

“No and sit tight, it gets worse. I...“

He cuts me off, “Wait, no, don’t say it. Let me guess - you turned her down? Keep in mind if you say yes I’m hanging up on you.”

I remain silent, pinching the bridge of me nose and cringing as hard as my facial muscles are willing to allow. I can’t say yes, not cause he’ll hang up but because admitting it makes it more real, and the more real it is the more depressed it’ll make me and I will go back to being a self-deprecating mess that refuses to be productive or properly functioning - aka ‘Whiney Kid Maximum’.

“I’m hanging up.“ Corpse says after waiting five seconds for my response that only comes in the form of dead silence which is more than enough of an answer in and of itself.

“No, please don’t!“ I squeak out despite my agony, “I’ll never break the cycle if you don’t help me, Corpse! I’m a hopeless case!“

“You’re a hopeless case with or without me, Y/N.“ He states, angering me ever so slightly. “Not only cause you really are, but because I have nothing useful to offer you. Not even a single advice. Even if I did, giving it to you would by hypocritical when considered how bad I am on this field myself. Hell, the very person you’re head over heels for is my personal matchmaker. If anything, you should be asking her how to swoon her...“ He pauses.

So does my brain.

For a second we’re both quiet, the silence on the line suggesting big plans are being developed - well, not on my end but still.

“Now there’s an idea...“ He mutters more to himself than to me.

“No!“ I shriek fearfully, “Please, if you love me even the tiniest bit, Corpse, don’t put me in a situation where I have to be alone with Rae! Not IRL not in a Discord call - not in ANYTHING. I close up and end up seeming unfriendly and rude because of my inability to talk to her like a normal human being! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just can’t do it! So please don’t make me.“

I maybe can’t read minds, but hell if I can’t at least have a rough guess of what’s on my best friend’s mind - I know he’s already scheming and coming up with odd solutions to my problem - some of which will cause me more problems but let’s not even mention those. That being said, I need to prevent him from actually carrying out any of his absurd schemes, otherwise it’s game over for me.

“Hmm, ok fine, but only cause I wanna spare you your own awkwardness. Consider it charity.“ He sighs, the disappointment even more evident now.

I sigh too, but I do so in defeated relief. It’s bittersweet, to be honest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.“ He says sharply, “Don’t thank me. It’ll make me feel like I’m encouraging your behavior.“

Well, screw my feelings, I guess. I’m left on this battlefield alone, aren’t I?

Corpse hanging up the call confirms that I am, indeed, alone.

                                                             *  *  *

“Hello?“

“Are you still in bed, for the love of God? It’s noon!“ Not only did he have the audacity to wake me up with his phone call, but now he has the audacity to judge me on my sleeping habits as well. Some darn nerve he has.

“What do you want, Corpse?“ I grumble out, groggy and now grumpy too. The last thing I need is the only person I can turn to turning on me. Especially not now. I don’t need his or anybody else’s judgement of me or my life, it’ll hurt too much.

“I want to know how long you haven’t showered, Y/N.“ He barks back, causing me to roll my eyes. “And when’s the last time you actually ate something healthy and nutritious and not just greasy takeout?”

“I showered last night!“ I straighten up and frown, feeling offended despite his questions being justifiable. I think that’s exactly why I’m pissed off, to be honest - he knows me and my habits too well. “And you’re just being hypocritical on the eating part!“

“Whatever.“ He mutters, allowing me to feel at least a tiny sense of victory for having proven him wrong, “Get your ass up and come play Minecraft with me, you need to be cheered up asap.“ He continues, much to my dismay. “And don’t even think about saying ‘no’. If you do, just remember, I have your address and a strong will to kick your ass into shape.“

“Into shape? We’re going to the gym or something?“ I’m honestly confused and intrigued now. Maybe the gym isn’t such a bad idea, I’m sure I could become really good friends with the punching bag.

Corpse sighs exasperatedly in a way I can basically hear him roll his eyes as well, “Not that kind of shape, Y/N. Just get on Discord, seriously, I’m worried about you.“ 

That sentence strikes a nerve. Something about that genuine concern in his voice reminds me that I still need to move on from focusing so strongly on just my failures, no matter how big or small, and keep pushing forward, if not for myself then for the people who care about me. For Corpse especially, seeing as how he’s sort of been my babysitter ever since my feelings towards Rae started to consume me whole and suffocate me. I don’t know how or when it happened, in fact I can best describe it as the Titanic: I was doing ok and then instead of hitting an iceberg the iceberg of feelings hit me and I started sinking. Corpse was there to offer me a hand to help me keep at least my head above the surface. He can’t pull me out of the water but he’s not willing to let go either. I’m afraid holding on like that will tire him out to the point of letting go of me completely, but I’m afraid of sinking too. You see my dilemma here, no?

“Ok, give me twenty minutes.“

I would have probably continued sleeping or just chilled on social media, refusing to get out of bed for at least another hour, but the debt I feel towards Corpse is stronger than the desire to be a slob so I motivate myself with every power my fragile mind can fish out of the void and push the covers off me, shivering at the drastic change in temperature around my body now that I’m exposed to the rather cool air in my room, my pajamas hopeless at providing me with any warmth.

Twenty minutes later sharp, I’m seated at my desk, in front of my computer with my headphones on, taking one last encouraging breath before entering the call where Corpse is waiting for me.

“Yo.“ I greet him half-heartedly, drawing invisible abstract patterns on my desk with my finger as if I’m avoiding eye contact with him IRL.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of punctuality at least.“ He chuckles, sounding a lot more pleasant and a lot more like my friend Corpse and less like sergeant Corpse Husband who was speaking with me on the phone earlier.

“Very funny.“ I murmur in my now common brooding manner, “Anyway, enough about me, how are you doing? Anything interesting happen since we last spoke?“

“You mean in the past ten hours? No, nothing interesting apart from that I managed to catch a few z’s.“ He replies as I join the Minecraft server, managing to get a smile out of me.

“Hey, that’s nice to hear! Good for you, Corpsie.“ I say, honestly proud and happy for him.

“Yeah, and just so you’re not calling me hypocritical on the topic of eating, I’m currently cooking myself lunch.“ He points out, now just straight up peacocking, “On that note, I got a pot on the stove so you’ll have to excuse me for a sec.“

“Please go. Don’t set your apartment on fire the first time you cook” I snicker, leaning back in my chair and fetch my phone to kill the time while he’s gone to tend to whatever attempt at a meal he has prepping in his kitchen. I feel bad for his stomach, and his kitchen, already.

“Corpse? Hi!“

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no - tell me that was an auditory hallucination and I didn’t actually hear that just now! TELL ME!

“Rae?“ I blurt out, almost falling backwards out of my chair, eyes wide, jaw hanging slightly.

Just then I get a text from Corpse:

Consider me dead and carry the convo. I know you’ve got this, Y/N

Oh that prick is gonna get it!

“Y/N? Hi! Sorry, Corpse didn’t mention you’d be playing with us, but it’s so nice to be hearing from you! It feels like it’s been forever.“ Rae replies, cheery and enthusiastic as ever, just like the absolute sweetheart she is.

With Corpse absent from his position, without his metaphorical hand holding mine, I’m metaphorically sinking and drowning. Maybe the drowning part isn’t so metaphorical after all, considering I actually am drowning in all the thoughts produced by my mind at the moment. A mind that’s going completely haywire, might I add.

“Hehe, well, funny thing, he didn’t tell me you’d be playing with us either.“ I chuckle anxiously, already breaking out in a nervous sweat. I solemnly promise to kill Corpse first chance I get, that way he’ll at least be dead for real.

“He set us up, huh? What’s his game, where even is he?“ Rae asks, properly confused as she should be.

All on-point questions, hun. And I can’t answer any of them logically.

“Um, you know, he’s off doing...something.“ And there go my conversational skills out the window, I hope they send me a postcard one day.

“Whatever, enough about Mr. Ominous. Tell me, what’s been keeping you busy?“ Oh crap, this is the question I’ve been fearing. Mostly cause I’m not prepared for it. “Actually no, let me rephrase: Why have you been avoiding me recently?“

‘Oh crap’ squared. Tripled.

“Whaaat? Avoiding you? Where’d you get that idea?“ I’m aware of my high pitched voice, but it’s not like I can do much to tone it down. Every part of me is in critical panic mode and rationality has accompanied my aforementioned conversational skills out the window.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Ignoring my texts, leaving me on ‘Seen’ and then declining my offer just to accept the same one coming from Corpse - can’t really blame me for finding it shady.“ She replies, her words making me wince and hide my face in the palms of my hands as though it’ll shield me from Rae’s brutal honesty and forthrightness. 

“I’ve been...bad at replying to everyone lately, nothing personal, I swear.“ Yeah, that sounded convincing, good gosh-darn job, Y/N!

“Why’s that?“ Something about her tone suggest she knows I’m lying and is just humoring me and my agony. I don’t know if to thank her for it or wish she’d just rip off the band-aid and confront me head-on. In that case I’d have only one of two options: freeze up or spill my guts. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse. “I thought you’d reach out to me, given you’ve found yourself in a pickle.”

I frown, confused and wary like I’m walking on thin ice over a pool of sharks, “Pickle? What pickle?“

“Corpse mentioned you needed dating advice.“ She replies simply as though it should’ve been obvious and as if it’s the most casual, regular and normal thing. Little does she know...

“Um, yeah, I guess you can call it that.“ I murmur sheepishly, my cheeks reddening.

“Who’s the lucky girl?“ She asks, the excitement now replacing the previous suspicion she was fronting, making me nervous as hell.

My heart skips a beat, “How’d you know I’m crushing on a girl?“

“Uh...“ She stumbles over her words, pausing to collect her thoughts and formulate a response, “Corpse told me!“ When the reply finally arrives it’s as high pitched as mine was earlier, suggesting something ain’t right.

I stay quiet, my mind and heart racing which is quicker. My leg is bouncing, my fingers are tapping the keyboard rhythmically as I rack my brain, pushing it to put the pieces of this enigmatic puzzle together, connect the dots.

When it finally does, I’m left with a horrific end-result, a realization that makes me go pale as a ghost, “He told you who said girl is too, didn’t he?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I keep the tone low so she doesn’t notice how shaky it is.

It takes her a few seconds to reply, but when she does I kinda wish she hadn’t, “Maybe...”

My first instinct is to excuse myself from the call, pack all my kitchen knives and drive to Corpse’s house but with my limbs having lost any and all feeling in them that is practically impossible. So, I settle for my second instinct which is hiding my face in the palms of my hands as though they can shield me from the immense embarrassment Corpse has set me up for.

“Listen...“ I start, not sure where I wanna go with this, “You don’t have to say anything, I get the hint. No need to bother with a gentle reje-“

“I like you too, Y/N!“ Rae cuts off my rambling with a melodic laugh, “I’m sorry, but you can be very oblivious sometimes, and I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine for a bit. Sorry if I freaked you out.“ Judging by her tone, she’s not sorry at all. In fact, she’s one step away from bursting out into laughter.

“Trust me, ‘freaked out’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.“ I sigh, exasperatedly, sinking into my chair alike a deflated balloon. “You and Corpse are gonna pay for that heart attack you led me to the brink of!”

This time, she doesn’t hold back, letting out the laughter she’s been holding back this whole time, “I don’t know how Corpse will do that, but could I pay my dues with a brunch on Friday?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “Miss Valkyrae, is this you asking me out on a date?“ I ask teasingly - aka with more confidence than I feel.

Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’.

“I don’t know, what do you think, Y/N?“ She asks, tone just as teasing as mine.

“Hey, I’m not as oblivious as you claim I am!“ I argue light-heartedly, “Does 2PM work for you?“

“Any time works for me.“ Rae replies, a smile blatantly evident in her voice. A smile that unleashes a flock of butterflies in my stomach.

And just like that, I have a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on for the longest time. It happened so fast it’s practically a blurred part in my mind, but one thing I’m sure will be crystal-clearly imbedded in my mind forever is that brunch on Friday. Just then, I get yet another text from Mr. Schemer himself.

That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

Some nerve he has, I swear to God.

[h0ly-fire]

Timeless

Chapter 1

Hi! So this is the first chapter of my Loki x reader fic based off the show! Its really long because its basically the entirety of the first episode. The reader will have Female pronouns in this story solely based on the fact that this will be very self indulgent and I identify as Female. So im sorry to those who do not identify as such. Also this has no editing or proof reading.. so there will probably be a lot of mistakes.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Loki was a God how could these people think that they could ever capture him! Strip him of his clothes and make him wait to stand trial? On top of all that they made him question wether or not he was a Robot.  Unbelievable!

 Now here he was with a man in front of him when a guard near by told them to take a ticket. “ Take a ticket.” the guard told them“ What is this a deli?” the man questioned the guard  “ No!” the man said rudely and walked off. “ Take your ticket” the guard said towards Loki as he stepped up. Loki looked at the guard with an are you serious look “ there’s only two of us in here.” Loki said looking around the room. The guard once more told him to take a ticket and Loki huffed grabbing a ticket and shoving it in the Guards face before walking away and shoving it in his pocket. 

“ This is an mistake I shouldn’t be here!” Loki shouted at the guard. Loki turned around when a strange voice sounded around the room “ Hi there! You’re probably saying ,this is a mistake I shouldn’t be here, “ . Loki then saw a television with a clock on it explaining the “ Time Keepers” and how they protect the flow of time and everyone and everything. Apparently he now has to stand trial for his “ crimes”. Loki chuckled before disbelievingly saying “ Time Keepers?” “ The sacred timeline?” he swung his arms out before yelling “ who would actually believe this? “ 

A guard once again asked for a ticket. Loki turned around to see a guard talking to the other man . The man started yelling “ That man didn’t give me a ticket! I tried to ask for one!” The guard rasied his voice “ ticket sir!” “ I tried to asked that guy for a ticket.” Loki then saw the guard pull out a baton and disintegrate the man out of existence. Loki , shocked, searched for his ticket pulled it out and heled it in the air.

Loki was escorted to a court room where women sat up front. “ Variant L1130, aka Loki Laufeyson. Is charged with sequence violation 72089. “ The women sat the paper down as Loki stood on the podium. “ How do you plead ?” she asked him. Loki looked up laughing “ Madam , a God doesn’t plead. “ “ Look this has been a very enjoyable pantomime , but i’d like to go home now.” “ Are you guilty of not guilty,sir?” the women asked . Loki laughed again “ Guilty of being the God of mischief , yes.” “Guilty of finding this all incredably tedious, yes “ “ Guilty of a crime against the sacred timeline? Absolutly not , you have the wrong person.” 

They continued on arguing until the women once again asked him how he pleads. Loki said guilty and then streched his arms out trying to summon his powers. He tried a few times , but each time he failed. The women told him that magic was no good in the TVA. She sentenced him to be reset . Loki freaked out asking what reset meant before being grabbed by the guards. “ You ridiculous beauracrates will not dictate on how my story ends!” Loki screamed. The women said it was never his story . “ You have no idea what I’m capable of!” Loki yelled out in frustration. A man wearing a suite then stood up “ I think I do.” “ I have an idea of what he’s capable of” he said pointing at Loki. He then walked up and stood in front of the women. 

The two talked in whispers before the man turned to Loki. Loki breathed heavy before starring the man down “ and who are you?” the man smirked before leading Loki towards his office. “ I’m gonna burn this place to the ground “ Loki said walking next to the man. “ I’ll show you where my desk is you can start there.” Loki looked out of the hall to see a grand city. Filled with lights , floating buildings, flying cars, the giant statues of the Time Keepers. “ Home sweet home” Loki looked to the man “ I thought there was no magic here.” the man shook his head “ there isn’t.” 

Loki found himself in an elevator with the man. Said man stuck his hand out for Loki to shake before telling his name “ I’m agent Mobius by the way.” Loki looked down at Mobiuses hand before looking back up at him. “ Are you taking me somewhere to kills me?” Loki asked. “ No” Mobius answerd “ thats where you just were. I’m taking you some place to talk.” “ I don’t like to talk” Loki said shaking his head. “ but you like to lie “ Mobius told him “ which you just did. Cause we both know you love to talk.” Loki looked at mobius with a scowl on his face. “ How Long have you been here? “ Loki asked him. “ I don’t know its hard to say time passes diffrently at the TVA.” Mobius replied. 

They stepped out the elevator ,Loki asking Mobius about the three space lizards and how its absurd how they decide the lives of millions. They then step into a big spacious room with a table and two chair in the middle. Loki made the comment on how it really feels like Mobius is going to kill him. Mobius fiddled with a device that sat on the table. Loki tried to attack Mobius, but he didn’t get far when mobius pulled something out and sent him back to where he was standing. Loki looked annoyed before he finally took a seat. 

Loki sat crossing his arms. “ If looks could kill.” Mobius said smartly. They carried on their chat as Mobius pulled a drink out explaing he specializes in dangerous variants. Mobius then started to ask Loki a seires of questions. Loki explained how he wanted to be King of Midgard and the nine realms. How he would have made it easy. “ People like easy.” Mobius said. Loki looked down at the table “ The first depressing lie ever uttered was the song of freedom.” he said before looking back up at Mobius. Mobius continued to write Loki’s answers down as they continued on their chat. Mobius then clicked on the red device in front of them and then it played something catching Loki’s attention.

It started to play his life. It showed him killing Coulson, Mobius asking if he enjoys killing people whilst the video showed Loki destroying NewYork. He then showed Loki in Germany taking out the eyes of a man. “ Look at that smile.You are enjoying that. “ Mobius stated. “ Did you enjoy hurting them?” Loki looked at the floor shaking his head. “ I don’t have to play this game.” Loki told Mobius. “ I’m a God.” Mobius looked at him before replying “ Of what? In mischief right? “ “ yeah, I don’t see anything mischievous about this.” He paused the video before talking about Loki’s escapes. Loki called himself a mischievous scamp and then Mobius continued the video . It was Loki on a Plane . He was D.B Cooper. Apparently he had lost a bet to Thor. Mobius brought the conversation back to Lokis escapes. Loki tried to get up but was brought back to his chair.

Loki was frustrated beyond belief. Mobius showed him another clip agreeing with what his past self had said . Mobius asked if he was finished before showing him what would have happend if he hadn’t taken the Teseract. It showed Loki in chains walking towards his mother. Mobius mouthing “ thats you” towards Loki. Loki looked up starring at his Mother. “ Have I made you proud?” “ Please don’t make this worse.” Loki stood crossing his arms “ What is this? It’s nonsense.” He asked Mobius. “ More tricks this never even happend.” He sais gesturing the the video. “ Not to you, not yet “ Mobius said. The video continued on showing what would have been had Loki stayed within his timeline. He watched as his mother died. How he lead the dark elves to her. How HE killed her. 

“Do you enjoy killing!?” Mobius asked Loki. “ I’ll kill you!” Loki stated. “ What like how you killed your Mother.” Mobius told him. Loki then the the chair at him. Mobius moving out of the way and the chair going through the picture of his dead Mom. “ You weren’t born to be King Loki. You were born to cause Pain and suffering and Death. That’s how it is that’s how it was and that’s how it will be.” Mobius told him. Loki sat on the ground in a mix of grief and anger. He watched the Avengers fighting each other. All of them on the screen. Including you. Oh how he wished to see you right now . Taking him away from this terrible place. You were next to Steve and Natasha, eyes glowing yellow while power surges through your hands. You looked so powerful in that moment. A moment he’d never be able to truly witness. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of you joining the avengers though.

He shook his head and looked up at Mobius sticking his hand out for him. He stood and then the door opened. In came the women guard “ what are you doing?” she asked Mobius. “ My job” Mobius said as if it was obvious. “ Is it yours to interupt?” he asked her. She looked at him before she spoke up “ We have a situation.” she told him. Mobius and the women left, leaving Loki to his own devises. Outside the room Mobius and the women were in a heated argument. “ We just lost another unit!” the women yelled at him. Mobius sighed before walking back in the room. “ Okay Loki I think we can finish up tomorrow and just-” Mobius stopped mid sentence when he noticed Loki was no where to be found. 

Outside Loki wandered around until he ended up in an office like room. TVA workers going about . “ Hey!” Loki shouted in a whispered tone towards the man he saw at the front desk. “ Hey I know you!” the man shouted. Loki grabbed him, pulling him down to keep him quite. “ What’s your name?” Loki asked, the man looked confused before replying “ Casey” he told him. “ Get me the Tesseract or i’ll gut you like a fish!” Loki threated him.” What’s a fish?” Casey loudly asked. Loki sushed him before asking “ how do you not know what a fish is?” “ i’ve lived my entire life behind a desk” casey said. 

After Casey agreed to comply he got up and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out the Teseract and handed it off to Loki. Finally, Loki thought, I have it. he helled it in his hands before glancing down. He saw infinity stones. A lot of them, just sitting there useless. “ What? Infinity stones? “ Loki asked him self, gently touching them as if they weren’t real. He stumbeld over his words “ how do you have these ?” he asked. “ Oh” Casey said “ We actually got a lot of those. Some of the guys use them as paper weights.” he said smiling to himself. Loki stood up and then walked in front of the big television. The weight of everything catching up to him. “ Is this the greatest power in the universe?” Loki questioned. 

The women guard came charging towards Loki with her weapon, but Loki teleported before she could hit him. He went back to the room Mobius had taken him to earlier. Out of breath, Loki got up looking at the Avengers still on the video along with you. He sat in the chair before rewinding the video and playing it again. He saw his life. What happened and what would have happened. 

He saw his Mother, dead on the floor. He saw his Father saying he loved them both. He saw you, your hands intertwined. Bodies pressed together and sweet kisses. He saw a ring on your finger and your smiling face looking up at him. He saw a version of himself being loved by you and living a life together. A life he’d never get to live now. He was crying , his tears streaming down his face. His breathe was shaky as he continued the video. He saw his brother, the two of them, fighting side by side. The video then showed him in front of Thanos. Thanos grabbed him by the neck, lifting him up. Loki stood up walking closer to the screen. He was struggling to breath as Thanos squeezed the life out of him. He could hear your cries of anguish as you pleaded for Thanos to let him go. You ran and banged on Thano’s back to stop him, but it was to late . A crack sound could be heard and he was dead. His body dropping to the floor. You came running up to him , cradling his limp body. Thanos looked down at you in disgust before stabbing you. Your body laying lifelessly next to his. As dead to the universe has he was.

Lokis face was one of fear, shock, and sadness. Seeing his death was teirrble enough, but to see you die was something else entirely. It broke his heart. The last thing he saw was Thor holding on to both your bodies and then the screen said end of file. Loki laughed at himself and then the women stepped in. “ what’s so funny?” she asked. Loki shook his head “ Glorious Purpose “ he turned around starring at her and then marched towards her. He threw a punch but she retaliated. The two fought but Loki brought her down attaching the collor to her neck. He fiddle with the remote causing her to go this way and that before she left the room completly. 

Mobius ran into you in the hall way telling you the Variant “ Loki” as he was called had escaped an he needed your help to find him. “ Mobius how many times do I have to tell you to keep watch of variants?” you huffed. “ I mean isn’t that your job?” He looked at you before pleading “ Please just help me Red, I’ll make it up to you.” “ fine” you pointed your finger at him “ but you owe me” the two of you set a brisk pace  and made it to what you usually call the showing room. It usually just shows the lives of people and variants, but TVA workers were not allowed to look at their own files. You and Mobius both pulled out your weapons entering the room. “ Loki” Mobius said, causiously walking towards him. You trailed behind walking behind Mobius . You moved to stand next to him as you got closer to the variant. He was sitting with his hands over his face.” No where left to run.” you said. Loki looked up hearing your familiar voice. He looked at you in disbelief.  

You weren’t real. How could you possably be here? He saw you die along with him! He saw you being carried away in shackles back on Midgard before he stole the Tesseract and ran off. There was no way that this could be you. He looked away from you and stared back at Mobius “ I can’t go back can I? “ it was more of a statement then a question though. You looked at him feeling some sort of sense of familiarity but sook it off as nerves. “ back to my timeline” Loki continued. Nither you nor Mobius said anything as Loki continued. “ I don’t enjoy hurting people.” he looked back at you “ I don’t enjoy it.” He looked in your eyes “ I do it because I have to. Because I had to.” Mobius shook his head and you spoke up. ‘Explain that to me.” Loki still couldn’t believe you were here right in front of him, but he pushed on anyway “ because it’s part of the illusion. “ “ It’s the cruel elabrate trick, conjured by the weak to inspire fear.” Mobius spoke this time “ a desprate play for control.” “ you do know yourself.” Loki sighed again “ a villain” he stated. “ That’s not how I see it” you said. Loki once again looked up at you . That since of familiarity coming back to you. “ 

Loki grabbed the Tesseract and spoke“ The TVA is formidable” Mobius shook his head in agreement “ that’s been my experince.” Mobius spoke to him,offering him a deal. You grabbed a hold of Mobius arm before yelling at him “you’re not doing what i think you’re doing are you?” Mobius shrugged your arm off before saying yes and then looked back at Loki. Loki got up walking towards the both of you. “ Fugitive Variant has been killing our minutemen” Mobius told him. “ and you need the God of mischief to help you stop him.” Loki said.” That’s right “ “ why me?” Loki asked .You butted in , standing infront of Mobius , looking up at Loki “ the variant we’re hunting is you.” “I beg your Pardon?” Loki asked. You chuckled,not suprised by his reaction. “ I’m sorry , but I think i’m in even more shock as to why you’re even here.” he gestured towards the room and then pointed at you stepping closer. You were face to face , noses almost touching. “ why’re you working for these people?” he furrowed his brows at you “ what are you doing here y/n?” You looked just as confused as he was and uncrossed your arms. “ I’m sorry, but who’s y/n ?” 

[elenarodriiguez]

how can you miss someone you’ve never met? | m.w-b.

summary: no one ever really talks about the struggles losing someone you never knew. losing a sibling you never got to meet.

pairing: makayla ward-burgess character study

cw: themes of miscarriage, child death & canon typical events

word count: 1404

read it on ao3

Walking through the cemetery, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Makayla surveyed the graves that she passed. If her social anthropology professor were here right now, she would probably start babbling on about how they’re an incredibly useful artefact to explore the ways various cultures honour the dead. And they are, but they’re also a rather morbid and depressing artefact to look at. The headstones so covered in moss that their owner’s names have faded away entirely, the decaying flowers showing their families had begun to forget them.

It was a terrible display and yet one she couldn’t tear her eyes away from. She knew her family’s plots were well maintained, Kim and Adam had seen to that over the years when she was too young to deal with it, and even now she was an adult they still pitched in. But knowing that one day, when she’s gone and they are too, it’s more than likely that they’ll fall into the same despondent state that makes her wonder if she really should have come here. After all, it wasn’t her family she was here to see, and her parents were none the wiser to her choice to come here.

She’d had to sneak into her dad’s office and find the plot number herself, knowing that asking them for it would be too hard for her to explain to either of them. And while neither one of them had bat an eye when she said she’d be going out, both of them having shifts of their own down at the precinct to get to, she was sure that if they had a clue as to where she was going that she wouldn’t have come here alone. 

As she walks along the paved pathway, keeping an eye out for the grave in question, she feels a deepening sadness at the array of stuffed toys and colourful balloons strewn across the land, the space between the plots getting smaller and smaller as her steps remain the same. But eventually she sees plot number 71317, the final resting place of Baby Boy Burgess-Ruzek, date of birth and death the same, the fifth of February 2020. Placing the bouquet of flowers that she’d picked up on the way here at the foot of his headstone, she sits down on the cold tiled pavement, thankful that she’d worn her longer coat this morning.

It’s difficult to find something to say to the child who would have been her younger brother, because where would she start? Introducing herself to thin air? Start talking about things as if he’s right in front of her and she’s known him all of her life? She supposes it’s easier in a way for her mom and dad to talk to him, they had some, albeit fleetingly short, time with the concept of him, so it would make sense for the words to just come out, but for Makayla it wasn’t that easy.

“Hi there.” She says, twirling one of her braids around her index finger. “I know we haven’t officially met before, I’m Makayla, Mak to my family. I don’t know if you can call me anything, I haven’t really figured out what sort of end I believe in, but if you can then by all means, call me Mak.”

She laughs at the absurdity of the situation, plumes of icy breath falling from her lips, as she leans forward to mess with the flowers.

“This is strange, I’ve known about you for years but I’ve never actually come to see you until now. Sorry about that, that probably makes me a bit of a crappy big sister. There’s no particular reason for me visiting you today, but I know Mom and Dad visit you on your birthday, and it’d be kind of obvious if I came back from Georgetown for a day visit. Besides, can’t a girl want to get to know her brother?”

The silence that responds is what hurts the most, and now she can’t stop wondering if this is what it’s like for her parents every year. If they sit here, talking at some marble with words carved into it, waiting for an answer that will never come even as they pray for God to reverse his mistake. 

“I’m sorry that I never got to know you. They think about you all of the time you know? They never say anything about it, I think losing you still hurts too much, but I can tell. When I got accepted into college, they were so happy for me but there was this, this longing that they couldn’t quite shake. Because you’ll never get to go to college, or trade school, or whatever it is that you would have chosen. They’ll never be able to watch you nervously open those emails telling you that you’ve been accepted, they won’t get to hug you the way they hugged me.”

Makayla stops talking, her voice gaining a tearful edge to it.

“And that really fucking sucks kid. Because they’re great, the best parents I could have asked for after losing my bio mom. And I’m so sorry you never got to experience their love in the same way I did. You know Dad still carries your ultrasound around in his wallet? He looks at it every time he thinks we’re not looking, but everyone knows he does it. Mom, well, she has this gold chain that she had welded around her ankle, one of those permanent pieces of jewellery, says that it’s so that she could carry you with her wherever she goes, take you to all the places you missed out on.”

Her words run out and she falls silent, having forgotten her braid and started twiddling the grass in front of her instead.

“Oh, and our sister knows about you too. When we moved to our new house, Dad bought Mom a picture frame to keep her copy of your ultrasound in, it’s on the mantle so everyone can see it. Andie loves talking about you to anyone who will listen, although she does call you Bartholomew so I guess there are downsides to her love for you.”

“I miss you, isn’t that so strange? I miss you, and yet I never knew you at all. I guess I kind of know how Mom and Dad feel, the longing that is. Andie’s great, a real firecracker, but every time I look at her I just think of what could have been. Whether you’d be just as bad as her or if you’d be more reserved, if you’d be friends with Aunt Sylvie’s little sister and Aunt Hailey’s kids, those sorts of things. If there’s one thing you hold onto from our little meeting: you’re missed every single day. I’m sorry you never got to learn who you are, that we never got the privilege. But we’re okay. Promise.”

Getting up off of the damp ground, she brushes off the grass on her coat and trousers, and she runs her hands over the headstone, tracing the name her brother was laid to rest under before walking down the path. She shoves her hands into her pockets, furiously blinking back the tears that hadn’t already fallen down her cheeks, and makes her way out of the cemetery. It’s on her walk out that she takes another look at the artefacts before her, the ones her professor would love so much.

And while there are ones in disarray and decay, there are also ones which are bright and full of the life that those buried here deserved to continue living. The ones with thriving mini ecosystems, the ones with letters and gifts covering every square inch of land belonging to the deceased, the ones where love is imbued into every crevice. Those are the ones she chooses to think of; she leaves her brother behind, determined to carry on her life in honour of his memory and all the things he could have been.

Her parents never find out about her first visit to see her brother, but when they’re all sat around the dinner table that night, she suggests that all four of them go and visit him, let Andie get to know him and ease the burden her parents have so desperately tried to hold onto. It’s the start of a new family tradition, one which all of them are determined to keep.

[writing-in-april]

Birthday Blues

Raymond Wadsworth (MGG in Suburban Gothic) x Gender Neutral Reader (Raymond POV)

Summary: Raymond wants his dead significant other to haunt him on their birthday.

A/N: This is a surprise little blurb for my birthday I get to surprise y’all instead of getting surprised myself hehe!! 🥰 This is a little angsty blurb for Raymond that i got all inspired at 2:00 a.m- poor baby I’m sorry for doing this to you. Fair warning it’s more somber than the film as well! Soon I’ll be posting less angsty fics, I’ve just been having fun exploring writing them. Thank you to all who have wished me a happy birthday and thanks for reading!

Warnings: Reader Death, Ghosts, Slight references to past sex, Depression

Main Masterlist Word Count: .09k

I wished it wasn’t so stormy today, it only made my mood even more blue, but not a happy blue. It would’ve been better if their birthday was a little less of a sad shade of blue, they had been the funniest person I knew when they were still breathing. You could barely breathe whenever they were around because of how hard they made everyone laugh. It’s ironic considering the fact that they’re the one that isn’t breathing now. I tried to be a little less of a sad shade of blue for them, but as per usual, I failed.

The color of the world wasn’t an attractive type of blue, it wasn’t happy in the slightest. When they were alive the world felt like a happy shade of blue like a bright periwinkle in my opinion, especially on their birthday.

It would’ve been their birthday today. We would have had a bright blue day if they were here for their birthday. I’d have made sure that it was celebrated properly, definitely not a sad shade of blue at all.

The blue around me now could have almost been considered gray, if they were here in an instant it would be much brighter. Instead the color was dull and void of life, just like they were. I wished their birthday was still a happy shade of blue, maybe like a cornflower blue.

They had been with me through thick and thin, we were partners in crime together. They were the only one that had believed me fully when I had said I was haunted by ghosts. When they had laughed, they laughed with me about the absurdity of the situation. And, I had agreed. I mean, what kind of ghost breaks a light that’s full of jizz over someone’s head as an effective way of getting your point across? They had been the one to make my world a happy shade of blue, maybe like a navy- yeah navy could be happy. It certainly made me happy whenever they wore their favorite navy shirt.

They had even defended me against my dad at any point they could. They had even pulled me out of that wretched house and offered up their own bed even if it meant sleeping on their couch. I remember insisting that we were adults and that we could be able to control ourselves without acting like a bunch of horny teenagers. Safe to say that was a lie, the world had been a bright electric blue on that night.

On their last birthday we had eaten a large chocolate cake together, though it had been covered in blue frosting of course. That time the color had been a bright royal blue. It had definitely been happy, I didnt even slam the cake on the floor and smash it with my feet out of anger.

This birthday was not a periwinkle, a cornflower, a navy, an electric, or even a royal blue. This birthday was a blue that wouldn’t make anyone happy or make anyone feel alive. I wished I could have a cake with them again, even if they were a ghost they could watch me eat the cake, they’d probably tease me about it too. That would make me feel a brighter shade of blue.

Why couldn’t I be cursed to be haunted by their presence until the day I died? People would’ve called it a curse, but I would’ve called it a blessing. People would’ve said it would be a curse because It would never be the same. Even if it wouldn’t be the same it would still be a blessing to see their face, even if I could never reach out and touch them. The world was in fact very blue today on their birthday, but it was not a happy shade of blue, no matter how hard I tried.

Why did the ghosts that decided to haunt me have to be dead people that I didn’t give a single shit about in the end?

“Why didn’t you come back as a ghost?” I wondered out loud to no one in particular. It was dead silent around me, only me and the bones underneath the earth kept me company. I knew I wasn’t going to get an answer, ghosts weren’t that easy to deal with despite my wishes. I knew the reason a haunting came about was because of unfinished business. If they had some unfinished business it wouldn’t be with me, they had even had time to say goodbye to me. But, it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. If only they could haunt me for a minute my world would seem so much less of a sad pathetic shade of blue.

I sat down the bundle of blue flowers I had picked up on my way here in a vain attempt to make my world seem a little happier. The flower shop owner seemed to be too intuitive for her own good, giving me exactly what I came for before I had even gotten all the words out of my mouth. I supposed if I could be haunted by ghosts that had no meaning to me that someone else in this world could be psychic as well. It wasn’t too far of a reach. I wish they’d come back and haunt me, it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a better shade of blue.

“Happy Birthday.” Was all I could muster up to say with my gloomy blue mood. I was about to walk away from the grave that I wished wasn’t there, not able to handle how steel blue the world seemed around me when something made me stop in my tracks.

“Hi, Raymond I heard you calling?” A voice that was instantly recognizable to me sang through the cemetery air, “I’m here.” And, the world now seemed a little bit better shade of blue.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Raymond/SG:

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Dancing Round the Kitchen

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2,017

Warnings: None

Summary: To pass some time, you and the Doctor attempt to bake some cupcakes. The Doctor, however, has forgotten how flour works.

Request: We haven't gotten any 13 from you in a while! Can I request something domestic? Like baking with 13 or dancing with her? Anything you'd like!

A/N: Established relationship because it's something I've never written before, and sometimes ya just wanna bake, y'know?

The flour had gone everywhere. You watched as it billowed in the air, dancing among the orange light that was cast by the soft glow of the TARDIS’ crystals. It was hypnotic, in the same way that they described car crashes to be.

For a moment, you would even describe it as beautiful.

Then gravity kicked in, and the flour landed. It settled into your clothes and your hair, it created a sheet of white across the kitchen bench, over your tools and into your bowl, and it coated the floor.

You stared at the Doctor. She was clutching the flour container like had just caught a child. The lid had fallen off the flour container and had landed by the crack in the floor – the very crack that the Doctor had only just tripped over.

The Doctor looked like one of those cartoon people who threw flour on themselves to prove that they were invisible. The flour was dusted into her hair, across her clothing, and had scattered across her face. She went crossed eyed as she inspected her nose, where a small pile had, somehow, formed.

Head to toe, she had been covered in flour, looking like a snowman.

The Doctor looked from the container, to the crack in the floor, and then to you. “Sorry.”

You burst out laughing.

The situation was just so absurd that you couldn’t help it. She had just gone to grab the flour. One moment, she was walking towards you, flour in hand, the next she had suddenly jolted, the flour flying through the air as she had stumbled. It had been a sight, and not one you would soon forget.

There was a moment where the only sound was your bubbling laughter, echoing off the walls that were now layered in flour, then, just as swiftly, the Doctor joined in.

You went up to her, brushing some of the flour off her cheek with the pad of your thumb, your laughter going into a weak chuckle. “Oh Doc, are you okay?”

The Doctor let out a soft laugh. “What, me? Yeah I’m fine, peachy.”

You moved your hand up, brushing some of the flour from out of her hair. It poofed up into the air, before settling onto her shoulders. “I wish I’d filmed that,” you said wryly. “Ryan would’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

The Doctor gawked. “You would not show the rest of the fam.”

You gave her a teasing grin, still brushing off the flour from her person. You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would too.”

“That,” the Doctor said, and you got the sense that she would be pointing at you if her hands weren’t fill with the container. She paused for a moment, considering. “Y’know, I was gonna say that it was unfair, but, really, it’s completely valid of you.”

You gave her a soft smile and kissed her on the nose, then recoiled. You’d forgotten about the flour.

You eyed the container. “How much do you think is left?”

The Doctor hummed, inspecting it. “Maybe around 200 grams? Might be a little more, could probably stretch it out really, if we throw in some Norvadica power from Astrox.”

You squeezed her arm then ran back to the kitchen bench. You brushed the flour off of the recipe book, and read through the ingredient list. “This says 200 grams,” you said. “We can still make these cupcakes,” you turned to face her. “Without the nova-something powder from Astrox. I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh it’s an invention the Astroxia make in…” The Doctor hummed. “The 28th century. Replicates flour, helped end the Famine of Kings.”

You screwed up your face. “Famine of Kings? Sounds depressing.”

“Yeah,” The Doctor drew out the word and came up beside you. She scanned over the recipe page, then beamed.  “Brilliant.” She leaned over you, and, with a flourish, tipped the contents of the flour into the bowl - only for another plume of flour dust to coil into the air. She coughed into her elbow, wobbling backwards. “I forgot it would do that.”

You gave her a blank stare. “Even though that was exactly what happened 30 seconds ago?”

The Doctor gave you a look. It was one you chose not to interpret, because annoyed seemed like an understatement, but she didn’t look angry, either. You gave her an innocent grin. “Just saying.”

She huffed out a breath, and blew out a strand of hair that had come lose. You sighed, tucking it back in. The chain from her earring shone in the light. Somehow, it had remained unharmed by the flour explosion. You watched it for a moment, your fingers ghosting over her ear.

“Y/N?” The Doctor said, but her voice seemed far away. “Were you listening to me?”

You jolted slightly, suddenly registering that the Doctor was talking. You gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I wasn’t, sorry.”

The Doctor gave you a knowing grin, and clasped her hand around yours. “I was saying that we should throw some white chocolate chips in. Make them extra chocolatey.”

You nodded. It was a good idea – granted the Doctor’s ideas often were good, but still.

You glanced down at the recipe. “Okay, I’ll handle the dry ingredients so we don’t…” you trailed off, debating whether you should say it.

“So we don’t have another flour mess,” the Doctor said. “And I’ll handle the dry?”

You nodded to her, giving her a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

The two of you worked in tandem. You combined the flour, the two different sugars, the cocoa powder, the baking soda, and the baking powder together – not questioning why the recipe called for two different baking powders. It was almost like a dance, you and the Doctor navigated around each-others spaces with ease, as it you had always been doing so.

The Doctor was an enigma, sometimes. She was one of the most brilliant minds in the universe, could coordinate space armada’s, solve century old “unsolvable” maths problems, invent new chemicals as a side project, and yet, as she carefully measured out her own ingredients, you had never see her act with more concentration.

It was adorable, and, covered in flour, a look of absolute focus on her face, her earring glinting in the light, the Doctor looked mesmerising in a way you had never considered before.

You made a well in the centre of your bowl, making sure it was big enough to comfortable house the wet ingredients. Without a word, the Doctor was prepared with her own bowl, and she gently poured the mixture in. You gave her a small, delighted smile, slowly realising just how well you both worked together.

“How much does this need to be mixed?” The Doctor asked, looking to you, even though the recipe was closer.

Something in you warmed at that. The Doctor trusted you, in a way that was so innate that she turned to you first.

That was pretty extraordinary.

“Not too much, the just need a quick mix to combine the ingredients. You don’t have to beat the batter as hard because the cakes don’t have to work as hard to rise, as opposed to a big cake.”

The Doctor nodded diligently, and took the bowl, before frowning. “Okay,” she said. “This is different.”

You frowned, looking into the bowl. “What is?”

“The wet ingredients,” she explained. “They’re all in the middle. I’ve never done that before. Do I mix it differently?”

You knew it was probably overkill, but you couldn’t resist the chance to hold her. You wrapped your arms around her, getting flour all over her back, and rested your hands against hers. They were warm underneath you, and for a moment you revelled in the feel of it. You showed how to mix it, explaining the process to her as you did so.

“You introduce the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients slowly,” you said, and you moved your free hand slightly so you could grip another part of the bowl. “That way you don’t get lumps.”

“Oh,” The Doctor brightened, and she leaned against your front. “This is much more efficient. Is this why I always struggle with baking?”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about that – you actually hadn’t known she struggled with baking. You knew the Doctor was a good cook, it was essentially just edible applied chemistry, and you had eaten enough of her meals to know it was good, but baking wasn’t something you had ever really seen her do.

“Maybe,” you said, eventually. “Technique’s pretty important.”

She hummed, and rested her head against yours, still concentrating on mixing it. Eventually, it was mixed, and you had no reason to keep holding her.

You didn’t let go, though.

“And now we spoon it into the tray,” the Doctor said.

You rummaged for the white chocolate chips, which meant letting go of her so you could dust off the various bags that were still caked with flour.

The Doctor turned to you, affronted over the lack of contact, to find you holding up the bag of white chocolate chips. “Extra chocolatey,” you reminded her.

She grinned and you threw her the bag. With the same speed she gave to disarming bombs and writing out new code, she ripped off the top of the bag and poured all the contents into the bowl. She nodded in satisfaction, and mixed the chocolate chips in.

“Now they’re ready to spoon in,” you said, coming to her side and resting your arm against hers. Working together, you managed to get the batter in pretty quickly, with minimum spills, and soon the batter was in the tray, and the tray was in the oven.

“And now,” you announced, staring at the oven’s timer. It read 20 minutes. “We wait.”

The Doctor huffed, leaning against the kitchen bench. “I hate this bit.”

You gestured around the kitchen. “There’s stuff we could do. It’s only 20 minutes.”

“What could we do?”

You eyed the flour, which was still everywhere. “I guess we could clean?”

The Doctor screwed up her nose at the prospect. To be fair, there was a lot of flour. Then, she suddenly brightened. She held out her hand. “Come here.”

You took it gingerly, more confused than anything. “What’s up?”

You watched as she wrapped her other arm around your waist, pulling youclose. She started swaying side to side, and you let out a startled laugh. “We’re dancing.”

“We are,” she said with a small grin.

“There’s no music,” you said, still confused, but you let her lead.

Her eyes twinkled under the warm lights, and she twirled you around. “Don’t need it,” she said, and then, after a moment. “I’m with you, that’s enough.”

So you danced around the kitchen under the soft orange light, swaying to the hum of the oven, creating a distant melody that only you and the Doctor could hear. The pressure of her hand against your back was grounding, and you rested your forehead against hers.

The Doctor wasn’t good with words, she never had been, not in any face. But you thought, right here, right now, that this was her way of telling you.

In the way her eyes shone when she looked at you, as if you were brighter than any star she had ever seen. The way she held you as if you were precious, as though she cherished you. The way her smile was personal, like she gave it just to you.

She loved you, you knew she did.

So you danced with her, among the flour and the dirty dishes, with your heels clicking against the tiled floor.

You would still have to make the icing for the cupcakes, and you would still need to clean the kitchen. Store the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, find the homes for the ingredients the Doctor had haphazardly gotten out, and get rid of all the flour.

But for now, you danced, or swayed. Because you loved the Doctor.

And because she loved you.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Fault”

Hello, everyone! We’re not even bothering with an introduction today, let’s just get straight to the only thing that matters.

HERE HE IS, THE MVP OF THIS EPISODE, OF THE WHOLE VOLUME, THE SERIES, THE ONLY ONE I CARE ABOUT RIGHT NOW

I’m joking… but only a little. In all seriousness we will get to Ren, but you all want to hear a funny story first? I somehow got it into my head that there was no RWBY episode this week—the holiday and all—so I poured all my meta time and energy into a ridiculous Ironwood analysis as a placeholder, only to wake up this morning and find the strongest (and most complicated!) episode this year waiting for a recap. Like some sort of grimm nosing into my inbox. 

Okay, so it’s not a funny story, but if RT would just do a better job with their website my life would be a whole lot easier.

So here we are, taking a look at the episode “Fault.” Quick question, is every episode this volume going to have a one-word title? It’s not a criticism, I’ve got nothing against a punchy name, I’m just curious since RWBY has never done that before. If anything, they’ve gone more for symbolically significant phrases like “A Brawl in the Family,” “Players and Pieces,” and “The Lady in the Shoe.” I wonder what sparked the change.

Anyway, we open on Robyn laughing about some story she’s told, something about Joanna losing a fair fight for the first time, presumably to her. This is what we’ve learned about Robyn since this volume started: she refuses to acknowledge that she had a hand in Clover’s death; she was asked by Blake and Yang to keep the Amity secret but, according to May, couldn’t keep her mouth shut about it; and she tries to cheer Qrow up by bragging about her own skill.

Alrighty then.

Obviously, this little story fails to land. “Tough crowd tonight.” Robyn looks to Jacques as well as Qrow when she says this and since she clearly doesn’t care about cheering him up, she must want to get a rise out of him. Create something, as she says at the end of the scene, that’s exciting. Robyn just really loves to start fights. Against Ironwood, Clover, bickering matches with Jacques—stories told about winning them! If she’s not fighting someone she’s not interested.

Qrow does eventually give the smallest smile though and Robyn cheers. “Did I win?” They both quickly grow serious again though and Robyn says she’s “sorry for what happened. It wasn’t your fault.” Her apology would mean more if she was apologizing for her actions, not providing a generic ‘Sorry for your loss’ like she had no hand in this.

Qrow then insists it was his fault… but, of course, not for the reasons why he’s actually responsible (also, didn’t we do this two weeks ago?). For starters, Qrow blames his semblance for everything that went down, despite the fact that his semblance is not responsible for him breaking Clover’s aura, or Tyrian stabbing him. The most we’ve seen his semblance do is cause minor mischief, which in and of itself is absurd considering we’re meant to believe that it has kept him from his family most of his life, and informs choices like whether he’ll travel with the group in Volume 4. Still, it’s not unexpected that he would blame his semblance and think that having friends is a “childish dream”—depression is one hell of a liar—but rather, it’s frustrating that no one is helping Qrow see the truth of the situation, both the good and the bad. He certainly doesn’t need Robyn providing generic platitudes that absolve them both of their choices.

You know what the worst part is? The two kind, level-headed adults with enough distance to help Qrow acknowledge his mistakes while also correcting him about his misconceptions… are Ozpin and Clover. The former is still ignored by the cast, the latter barely got to be a character before he was killed.  

Qrow goes on to say that he “made a deal with the darkness and [Clover] paid the price.” I’m sorry, what does that mean?? Outside of referencing his team-up with Tyrian, that’s the most dramatic, nonsensical thing he could have said. Qrow doesn’t admit to the team-up though, rather he starts blaming Clover for his own death.

Precisely like a good chunk of the fandom has done 🙃

He says that Clover just “wouldn’t let up” (translation: he wouldn’t agree to let me go when I was under arrest) and that they could have “worked together against Tyrian if Clover had just—”

There’s a lot to cover this episode, so I’m not going to dive into another explanation of all the justified reasons why Clover didn’t trust Qrow in that moment and why Qrow was the one who “wouldn’t let up.” If you’re interested in that rundown, head here.

Side note: can RWBY please stop with the weird mouth closeups? I’m begging the animators. Especially when so much else in this episode is gorgeous.

Yes: 

No: 

Robyn’s response is to make it all about her. I say, as a hypocrite, because my instinctual response in comforting someone is to also bring up a way that I might, sort of, know what they’re going through. It’s something to work on and, as always, I’d be more receptive to Robyn’s attempts if she weren’t failing so spectacularly in every other aspect of her characterization. Case in point: she says that having a truth semblance tends to make people push her away, but we’ve never once seen that. We’re introduced to Robyn as she’s adored by Fiona. The people celebrate her. Yang and Blake trust her immediately, for no reason, and comment on how useful her semblance is—they’re not concerned with it. Ironwood likewise works with her and allows her to use her semblance on him in public, at least for a time. May spoke fondly of Robyn last episode. She just finished a story about Joanna… where is this pushing away you speak of, Robyn? I really wish RWBY would consider things ahead of time and actually show them to us, rather than just having characters announce that they’re (supposedly) there.

Nice symbolism though with Robyn touching the electric bars and pulling her hand back. You reach out, you get hurt, curl in on yourself, blah, blah, blah. Too bad it’s not a moment attached to an actual struggle of hers.

Qrow buys it though, saying he’s never thought about it that way before. 

You know, I get why a lot of people in the fandom hate Clover. I can’t even claim I’m much interested in him as an individual. I’m sick of straight, white, able-bodied men getting the spotlight, which is one of the things that drew me to RWBY in the first place… so theoretically Robyn should be the better choice for Qrow’s BFF, right? Especially in a world where FairGame only existed in RT’s social media queerbaiting. Give us the badass gender-bent Robin Hood instead of the boring military man!

On paper it sounds great… which is why it’s astounding that RT bungled that so badly.  

Qrow never finishes his thought about Clover because the Ace Ops come in to return Watts to his cell. Interesting. The writing has definitely made Ironwood stupid, but perhaps not as stupid as he could have been? If he got Watts to hack Penny (we don’t yet know what’s going on with her during all this) and then promptly shut him away again, that’s just about the best way you can follow up on your worst decision.

Harriet spots Clover’s pin and tells Qrow “You don’t get to keep that,” but then doesn’t take it from him. See, that right there is a better motivation for potentially opening the cell. Qrow says he didn’t kill Clover, Harriet shoots back that his blood was on Qrow’s blade (again, focusing on the wrong way that he’s guilty), Robyn challenges her to get the truth via her semblance… and Harriet considers it? Why? She’s not the one struggling with her loyalty here, that’s Marrow, yet he’s the one who has to pull Harriet back with “What are you doing?” when she looks at the keypad. Have Marrow almost be swayed by Robyn’s taunting, or have Harriet almost open the door because she’s furious and desperate to get Clover’s pin back. Either one of those would make more sense than this.

Also, no one checked Qrow during his arrest/before he was thrown into his cell?

Also, note that Marrow uses a nickname here—“Hare”—so I’m continually unpersuaded by the ‘They’re not friends’ claim. Yes, Harriet hits his shoulder on her way out… and Ren will later scream at Jaune about cheating. Harriet being in a bad mood because their leader was just murdered isn’t evidence that they’re not close, no more than Ren responding to Everything Traumatic Ever is evidence that he doesn’t care for his friends.

Also (x3), Robyn calls Harriet “mohawk”?? Can’t this woman come up with a single good insult?

As the Ace Ops leave Robyn lays back down on her bunk, exactly as she was before, and says, “Well, that was almost exciting.” Kind of like this scene! Luckily, the episode is about to get a whole lot better.

The music immediately picks up as we segue to Ren, Jaune, and Yang chasing after Oscar. On the whole I really enjoyed this scene, largely because it shows the group doing their best—in a way that feels persuasive. I’ll admit that others have a point about them just standing around while the Hound changes form—yet still failing because, you know, our villain is actually powerful! However, there are, as always, some nitpicks.

One of the first bits of dialogue we get is Ren noticing that the bikes can’t stand being in the cold for very long. It bugs me that bikes suffer more from the cold than the civilians do. To say nothing of the fact that it once again doesn’t amount to anything. Their bikes carry them through the whole battle and Jaune looses his because of a grimm. Then Yang manages to fix the totaled bike with a single part, despite the continued cold. Why bother introducing this as a problem when it’s meaningless each and every time?

The three do demonstrate some great teamwork though. When Yang yells that she wishes one of them could fly, Jaune uses his shield to launch Ren at the Hound… so that he can get dragged through the air, hitting rocks. This poor guy. I like that though because no, these teens shouldn’t be perfect, strategic masterminds and yes, they’re in the kind of situation where they just have to try something and see if it works. Jaune can’t think ahead to what Ren will do once he grabs the Hound, they just have to get him to that point and go from there. Which they do. Ren snags a boulder to slow them down further (that’s smart) and Yang goes higher to fire at the Hound’s face (don’t hit Oscar he doesn’t have aura!!). They’re at a crazy disadvantage here and still trying their best to get our boy back.

The overall tone is… fine? Again, love supportive Yang—that high five with Jaune was wholesome—but it continually feels weird to get that when Oscar is in the literal jaws of death here. On the whole though the scene keeps to the action and seriousness of the situation, which I appreciate. We’ll talk more about tone during the outpost scene.

It's looking like they might be making some sort of headway when the Hound lets out a roar that, as Yang puts it, calls for backup. 1. Yay giving this grimm even more power to mess with the cast, 2. Holy shit there are so many grimm around. See, scenes like this is why I’m side-eyeing the anti-army rhetoric in the show (a stance I’d otherwise agree with 100%). Because do you see how many there are? That’s not Salem’s army, that’s just the normal grimm hanging out around Atlas. The cast is screwed if anyone were to, say, order them to attack the kingdom…

Kudos to RT for bringing back the centipede grimm though. I honestly thought they’d just be a one-off action sequence in Volume 7.

While everything is falling apart Ren catches a glimpse of Oscar, complete with rosy cheeks to make him look super young, and the sight fills him with 

He starts climbing towards the Hound and we cut away. 

Meanwhile, Jaune’s bike is hit with some of the centinel’s acid (again, not the cold causing problems) and he takes a tumble, managing to keep his feet before Yang snags him. Moments like that really do show how far he’s come and I’m glad we got to see such a moment in an episode where his cheating was brought up. Jaune then uses his shield to fly over one of the dragon-y grim, but... wait. The shield is flexible?

Literally what is the point of that? As a shield, I mean (it clearly works fine as  a ramp). If you can just tip it over like that then so can the grimm or another fighter. Forget how tiny the shield is, all a monster would have to do is boop it and it would fall over. In fact, it probably should have with the grimm scratching at it before. Seems rather useless, unless you’ve got writers crafting convenient situations. Also, does Jaune have multiples of this thing? He picked it up before, but there’s no way he found that one again. Idk, I’m really not feeling this addition to Jaune’s arsenal. Better to give him a range option so he’s more versatile.

Still, they fly over the grimm and the two let out a sigh in synch. Whatever else we might have to say about this volume, RT is definitely giving us different interactions and team-ups. Well done there. Why, Jaune and Yang have managed to survive all that together!

Oh wait, never mind. They’ve gone off a cliff.

Honestly, I’m shocked they actually went over. I thought Yang would stop in time, or we’d have a classic moment of them tumbling off the bike and ending an inch from the edge, maybe going off slow with time for one to hang on. But nope, they plummet and it was done with such confidence by the camera that for a split second (the illogic of killing them both off aside) I thought that was it. They’re done for. Lucky for them, Ren catches them at the last second, managing to snag Jaune’s sword and them and immediately use his semblance so the grimm doesn’t eat them. That’s skill, baby!!

But you can see why he’s pissed, beyond just the fact that his semblance is holding this group together. It’s not Jaune and Yang’s fault that there was suddenly a cliff, but last we saw Ren he was heading towards Oscar. He had a plan. Granted, not one that was likely to lead anywhere given the Hound’s power (and the plot needing Oscar to reach Salem), but that’s not the point. He was pulling himself towards their kidnapped friend and then at the last second had to cut himself loose to save two others. This moment wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it would take someone with no emotions at all not to be frustrated by it. 

So we leave the trio literally hanging out and return to Ruby’s group who is threatening kids! 

Seriously though WTF, Weiss? Look, I haven’t always been kind to Whitley. In fact, I think there’s a Volume 7 recap where I really laid into him for his attitude and for supporting Jacques. But then—with the help of some friends and other anon perspectives—I thought about it for a hot second and considered how little power this child has. I was wrong to blame him for so much given the various circumstances here. It took, like… five minutes of thinking, and that’s for a fictional character, not a real life brother. Weiss clearly hasn’t given her brother five seconds of thought. He’s in the same abusive household that she was. He wasn’t blessed with combat abilities and a semblance to easily escape. He didn’t have Weiss there to guide him like Winter guided her. He had to watch BOTH his sisters abandon him to Jacques… so when exactly was he supposed to learn to be better? Why would he be inclined to? Weiss was an entitled racist when she got to school and needed new friends to show her a new path. She admitted as much last volume! Yet the fact that Whitley is completely alone in this house while their mom locks herself in her room to drink doesn’t register at all? This woman, an adult out to save the world as we’re frequently told, never once considered what it took to get her here and realize that Whitley has had none of the resources she did? 

I want to emphasize that Weiss threatens him with her weapon. It’s not just that she’s dismissive of him and his plight, she’s also happy to use violence if Whitley doesn’t do exactly as he’s told. Violence… against her brother… who is a child… without any training. Again: WTF, Weiss? You know how I was praising RWBY last episode for not having the group beat up the Atlas personnel? Yeah, we get this instead.

Then she tells him to go to his room??

Speculation is that Whitley is about 2-3 years younger than Weiss. Or, to put it another way, roughly the same age as Weiss’ leader, Ruby. She’ll follow Ruby unquestioningly into world-changing decisions, but sends her brother to his room like a toddler? Which is it, RWBY? Are 17 year-olds leaders you should listen to, or babies who must leave the room while the grownups talk? He certainly can’t be any younger than Oscar, so again, she’ll fight beside him, but treat Whitley like this? Whitley isn’t exactly going to offer help in a respectful, eager manner, but that “Fine. What do you expect me to do?” was incredibly open given his situation. He was willing to help and that was the perfect opportunity to have him, you know, do something. Something small and innocuous that wouldn’t threaten the team if he betrayed them, but kept him around so he could talk to someone. But nope. Weiss just sends him to his room after criticizing him for not understanding that they’re “busy trying to save Atlas.” Weiss, what does Whitley know about all that? He’s locked up in this manor after your father was arrested and the one news clip we’ve seen said that no one knows why Ironwood recalled his forces, or what’s up with those grimm overhead. She’s acting like he should have any idea what’s happening right now.

Also, all of this is coming on the heels of Willow begging Weiss not to forget her brother, so that’s just great. RWBY has the rest of their time in the manor to fix this, because if Weiss comes out of that scene having only been handed the means of arresting Jacques… that’s just bad all around.

Finally, should we talk about how strange this choice is? Last episode we saw the group flying away and I assumed it was them leaving Atlas to go back to Mantle. It certainly looked that way, but now they’ve decided to stay until Nora is awake. Why? Isn’t it more dangerous here? I mean, they didn’t know the staff was gone and there are still arrest warrants out. Was Weiss just going to threaten anyone who dared report her? Where are these shields Ironwood spoke of? Have they gotten through them somehow, or are they currently trapped in Atlas?

This is “Oscar is in the slums, leaves the slums, learns they’re going to the crater, but the slums are actually the crater, so we’re heading back now” all over again. 

The one good thing about this scene is that Blake and Ruby talk! …for about two seconds lol. Eh, better than nothing. Blake says that if Ruby is worried about Yang she could try calling her. Ruby has, and Yang isn’t picking up.

Does Ruby think she’s in danger or ignoring her? Unclear. We, however, know that Yang is now lost in the middle of nowhere with no reception and no transportation back to Mantle. The three of them start trudging towards an outpost Ren spotted, needing to find shelter “before this weather drops our aura levels completely.” So what about everyone without aura?? I wish that I could check off the bingo space again because this is ridiculous.

Ren, once again, isn’t in the mood to talk, but unlike Jaune, Yang can’t leave something alone. So she coaxes him to tell him what’s wrong and you know what? She does a real good job at first. She’s encouraging, but her voice is level and she doesn’t come across as accusing. Well done, Yang.

Things quickly fall apart though as Ren says EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED TO SAY TO THIS GROUP. Holy shit, everyone, let’s count ‘em up:

Nothing is going smoothly so let’s stop pretending it’s all fine

Oscar has been horrifically kidnapped that’s #bad

This is not a normal part of being a huntsmen

We don’t know the first thing about being huntsmen!

Every time we’ve had to make real decisions we got them all wrong, yay us

We’re trapping a city here for Salem to destroy whenever she feels like it, yay us x2

Our leader is barely more than a kid and one of us cheated our way here

People are going to die because of us

“I’m just saying what nobody else wants to”

Yang’s response? Incredibly weak imo. Just as weak as the fandom’s has been since this conflict started in Volume 7. Her argument against letting Atlas go is that Salem won’t just let it fly away with her whale… but no one knows that. She’s certainly just letting it sit right now! Assuming that something won’t work because you expect the worst is not a compelling reason not to try.

Her argument against their ineptitude? They saved Haven, took down a leviathan, and got the lamp to Atlas. Let’s break that down a little more.

Did they fight well at Haven? Yes… overlooking that Weiss would have died if not for a timely semblance reveal. But the real point here is that they “saved” the school by getting the Relic. Problem is, they never won the relic, it was handed to them. Literally. They retrieved it not because they were capable of overpowering Salem’s forces and a Maiden, but because Raven decided she’d rather her daughter be a target than her. That doesn’t tell us anything about the group’s skill, only about Raven’s flaws.

They took down a leviathan… after drawing it to Argus in the first place. That’s kind of an important detail when Ren is trying to make the point that their decisions suck. Also, how did they take it down? Using Ruby’s silver eyes, which only worked because Jinn randomly decided to let her stop time. Oh, and also using the rest of Cordovin’s mech that they hadn’t yet destroyed. Again, nothing about that fight demonstrates their skill, only others’ abilities, resources, and the strange favoritism they benefit from.

Getting the lamp to Atlas. Well, you drove Ozpin away who was your ticket across the border. Then Maria told Ruby how to save you all from the Apathy (and Ruby herself was the only one able to resist long enough to demand you get the Relic back in the first place). You started that leviathan fight and ended it surrounded by Cordovin’s fleet. So how did you get to Atlas? Because she let you cross. How did you reach Ironwood? Because he dropped your arrest. Yang stopped Adam, yes, but that was its own, separate fight. Regarding the “getting to Atlas” point they botched that up completely. 

Basically, this resume of victories is unpersuasive, to say the least. Yang highlights the end goal rather than acknowledging Ren’s point: have we, as individuals, actually made things better lately?

They absolutely have not. 

Note how, in contrast, Ren includes himself in this criticism. He doesn’t just lay responsibility at Ruby and Jaune’s feet, he’s second on the list for being underprepared. For messing up. He’s just an “orphan from nowhere” and this tells us that, unlike Qrow, Ren is actually concerned with this problem and his own place in it. He’s not just blowing off steam and running from his responsibility. Rather, he’s making important points here yet, as he says, no one else wants to listen.

And that’s why the scene ultimately sucks. “But, Clyde! It’s a speech straight out of your metas!” Yes it was and it was beautiful to witness, but the problem is that Ren’s supposed to be wrong. Jaune glares at him before leaving. Yang clenches her fists and asks if he just wants to push everyone away. He’s left hanging his head. Then later they talk about how “broody” he is and provide advice about how to stop doing that. The takeaway here is not, ‘Holy shit, Ren is right and we should rethink our choices,’ but rather that Ren is wrong and needs to come over to their ‘correct’ perspective.

I love that this was laid out. I love that the group is actually fighting for once (way better than Ruby and Yang’s ‘fight’). I also love that we finally see what’s bothering Ren… but we all know this isn’t leading anywhere. The scene ends with Jaune dismissing everything by stating that if Ren doesn’t want to be a huntsmen, fine, but he has a job to do. Ren is supposed to feel guilty here for… telling the truth? Jaune is supposed to look like the hero for soldiering on with his responsibility while moody Ren drags behind. The scene is great, but the purpose of the scene sucks.

Actually, I’d like to talk about a portion of the outpost scene real quick. Skipping ahead, because we really see here how little RT believes the words that they’ve put in Ren’s mouth. Jaune admits that he’s right about cheating into Beacon… but nothing else. Indeed, that “mistake” is swept away because he’s earned his right to be here now. You shouldn’t care about that anymore! Ignoring the point Ren was making about how much they’re in over their heads. Yang apologizes to Jaune on Ren’s behalf, making it clear that she cares more about his potentially hurt feelings than any of the points Ren made. Remind you of anything? Like oh, say, that time Yang cared more about Jaune’s feelings than whether he’d hurt Oscar after slamming him against a wall? All of this despite the fact that Yang JUST accused Ruby of the horrible situation they’re in. Now Ren acknowledges that they’re in a horrible situation and Yang… doesn’t care?? Again, RT is good at giving us the pieces we want, the surface level stuff, but is rarely able to combine it into something fulfilling. If anyone actually takes Ren’s stance seriously, changing their ways rather than talking him out of it, I’ll be shocked.

Especially since the real nail in the coffin of this scene is Jaune telling him that “The more you hide from what you’re feeling, the more alone you’re going to feel.”

Jaune………..buddy……….pal…………were you asleep during that scene? Ren DID tell you what he was feeling. For the first time he did come clean about everything he was experiencing and you both rejected him for it! He’s not pulling away because he’s hiding from what he’s feeling, he’s pulling away because he did show it and both his friends reduced it to “pushing [them] away.” Which is it, Jaune? Should Ren be more open, or should he stop saying things you don’t want to hear? It’s a more complicated version of telling your parents about your interests, them mocking those interests, and then they’re surprised when you don’t share things with them again. I mean, the gall of Jaune to reject everything Ren said in the moment, ignore it after he’s calmed down, and then lecture him about being hiding his emotions.

Jaune and Yang (and the story) don’t want Ren to say what he really thinks, they want him to say what they think. Ren should speak up, but only if he’s going to agree with them.

So Ren sits out in the snow because potentially dying from cold is better than staying in a room with Yang and Jaune. I can’t really blame him lol.

One last thing about the fight scene. Remember how May was put in her place last episode for not using Penny’s name? Well, Yang doesn’t either. Granted, “the Maiden” isn’t as overtly insulting as “tin can” (or whatever it is May said), but it amounts to the same thing: both are replacing Penny’s individual identity with her status as a tool they can use. May sees Penny as the cool tech girl who can get them into the military base. Yang sees Penny as the cool magic girl who is the answer to all their ‘How do we win this?’ problems. Everyone is using Penny. Ruby to launch Amity, Ironwood to open the vault, but you know RWBY will never have a scene where Penny corrects Yang about her name and Ruby looks on, smug. Because the group can continually make the same mistakes as the adults/antagonists around them, but aren’t called out on it in the same way. Ren calls them out and he’s told he’s wrong. 

Anyway, the tl;dr of this scene is that Ren is the best. Too bad the story doesn’t realize that.

We then move to my poor Oscar who wakes up looking at his own feet, Ozpin’s voice is as reassuring as it can be under the circumstances. “Oscar? Don’t panic. We’re going to be okay.” I mentioned two weeks back that I hoped the show would explain why we didn’t see Ozpin try to take control during the Hound fight and we still don’t have an explanation, so that’s disappointing. This line is all we get from Ozpin because that’s the norm now. We moved from him being written out of the story entirely to having one or two lines an episode (excluding a speech meant more for the audience than the characters). So, improvement? But a lackluster one, I think. Especially given that he is the focal point of this entire situation with Salem. 

I’m avoiding the elephant in the room though. Oscar’s torture is horrifying. In the sense that it should be horrifying. Salem might still inexplicably not be attacking Atlas—and what she’s after at any given time might be getting more and more muddled—but she’s absolutely terrifying here, which is what we needed. The mix of assault with that nurturing tone is just skin crawling. “My long lost Ozma. Found at last” while she (I think?) shows images of their daughters. Honestly, I only heard that from friends, didn’t catch it myself, but then my eyes are shit to begin with. I couldn’t see a thing in this shadowed shot.

(It’s like watching Game of Thrones all over again.)

Oscar tries to pretend to be Ozpin and he does a damn good job with “I’m sorry the reunion isn’t living up to your expectations.” It’s not enough to fool Salem though. She says he’s “not him” yet and I’m again reminded that the show continually references this merge without showing us any change. They’re apparently closer to one person now, but they still speak as individuals. Oscar has Ozpin’s magic, but hasn’t used it, even when his life was on the line. The closest we get to evidence that the merge is underway is that Oscar attempts to lie about knowing Jinn’s name… but what the hell else is he supposed to do here? I suppose he could go the action hero route and shout that she’ll never get the answer out of him, but trying to lie is by far the safer option. That doesn’t tell us that he’s becoming like Ozpin, or even that they’re truly “like-minded souls” as Salem claims. It just tells us that Oscar has two braincells to rub together and can say a short sentence without totally giving himself away. Maybe the kid played a few rounds of Remnant’s Among Us.

This moment highlights another justification for Ozpin’s secrets though. He lives an existence where he is not in control of his own (“own”) body. At any point the host he’s with could falter, fail, turn on him, and in doing so give crucial, world ending information to the enemy. It’s already happened on a small scale, with Oscar successfully taking control, stealing the Jinn information, and giving it to the group. Now here he’s being tortured. How long can he last? Will Oscar give up Jinn’s name? If Ozpin didn’t have the location of the Relic locked up tight in his own consciousness, would that information be lost too? I’m not looking to blame Oscar for anything here—I don’t want to imply that this situation is karma for him taking Jinn’s name, or some such nonsense—I just want to acknowledge that this is the sort of stuff Ozpin has to worry about. If he shares these secrets then that’s more fallible people who are capable of giving that information to Salem. If he keeps them…well, he’s the only one who has to keep his mouth shut during a torture session. His host might want information about the Relics, there’s an argument to be made that they’re entitled to them, but if I were Ozpin I wouldn’t want to take that risk either. The question has essentially become, “Would I trust a 14 year old to keep quiet while tortured by a witch?” Maybe Oscar will! He’s enough of a BAMF to manage it… but that’s still not something I’d want to bet on. Better that Oscar simply doesn’t have that information to give Salem, period. 

So obviously this “working relationship” that Salem wants isn’t going well. When Oscar lies she jumps straight to torturing him.

This was legitimately hard to watch and I’m torn about that. On the one hand it’s what I wanted: a scary, powerful Salem who uses the tools at her disposal to get what she’s after. That’s great! Yet I’m still reminded of how far this show has gone to literally beat up the child of the group. Oscar is the one punched into a tree, attacked by a friend, shot by an ally, the star of the show’s most horrifying kidnapping, now the first to be outright tortured by Salem. I don’t really have a point here, I’m not looking to level any specific accusations at RT, I’m just commenting on the pattern and acknowledging that it makes me uncomfortable. There are parts of a story where you’re supposed to be uncomfortable—like the villain torturing a hero—and then there are parts where you’re uncomfortable because the writers seem overly focused on showing images of a specific kid suffering and that’s… weird.

I’m not sure what to make of that just yet. 

Anyway, Salem’s magic here is surprisingly pretty. Pretty and painful, but I expected more red and blacks, perhaps some spikey imagery, so the rainbow was an interesting surprise. Given the amount of pain Oscar is in, I suspect too much of that would kill him, so Salem calls in Hazel to continue the interrogation. The first few hits he deals are for Haven, the others for his sister.

See, this is why RWBY needs to actually embrace its “life isn’t a fairy tale” theme. You cannot show me child torture in one week and then move to Ruby “We’ll win because we’re the good guys ^_^” Rose the next. The whole reason why Ironwood (and Ren now) was right is because this is the shit reality they’re dealing with. You didn’t run when you had the chance and now Oscar (and Ozpin) is being tortured. You keep talking about saving Mantle, but the only reason why they’re not already dead is because the writing randomly turns the cold danger on and off. This mix of horrific, real world danger and unjustified confidence doesn’t work.

…also, I officially don’t want any redemption arc for Hazel. This guy is beating on a child because he’s convinced that he’s Ozpin, blaming Ozpin for his sister’s decision, all while forwarding a genocidal maniac’s plans. Hazel and his ridiculous shirts can just get on out of here, thanks.

Finally, I just want to say... this is the woman a lot of the fandom defended. This is the woman you wanted raising those girls and blamed Ozpin for trying to escape with them.

This is how Salem treats children.

Oh, and all of this is without his aura because it just broke. So Oscar is in serious, non-fantasy trouble here. 

Someone please rescue him soon 😭

We finish up with some frankly boring stuff with the rest of the villain cast. We learn that the Hound is an “experiment” and a new one given that Cinder has never seen it before. Salem’s dialogue is admittedly great—“Do you hear that, my pet? She thinks. She wants.”—but Cinder just rehashes everything we’ve heard from her before. She wants the Winter Maiden power. She has trouble remembering that she’s playing at Salem’s slave. She even rehashes the exact same line, “Without you, I am nothing.” Why are we wasting time on this when we had that tantalizing backstory before? 

Bleh. 

Salem tells her in no uncertain terms to stay put.

So Cinder immediately leaves LOL.

She just wants to “check on” Amity tower because she “knows those kids” in ways Salem doesn’t. I’m admittedly slightly confused as to how Cinder knows to go there? Did she believe Ironwood’s lie that it was finished even though it apparently IS finished now? Has she overheard something? I’m not sure. Frankly, keeping track of that stuff in RWBY is headache inducing, so let’s just roll with it.

Neo, the only one with a brain around here, makes it clear she thinks Cinder is an idiot for going. Emerald, always the Cinder fan, offers to go in her stead. She’s been working on her semblance, so I expect we’ll see something cool with that soon. They head off, apparently not worried about what Salem will do to them when they get back.

Which is when we move to the outpost for our final scene, most of which I’ve covered. I only have two more things I want to bring up here.

The first is the tone. As said earlier, the tone of the Hound chase wasn’t horrible, but I find myself disappointed in the overall attitude of Jaune and Yang. Yang is making jokes about how they can’t fly, high-fiving Jaune, and they’re both shrugging off Ren’s concerns. Jaune says he won’t be able to sleep due to worrying about Oscar, but neither of them act particularly worried. Which isn’t to say they need to be sobbing the whole time or whatever, just that Ren is the only one who feels real here. They may not agree with his stance about everything else, but they’ve all experienced the same event: watching a grimm that can morph, talk, and think horrifically kidnap a teammate. Shouldn’t there be more emotion attached to that? Things have gotten better with Oscar than they’ve been in the past, largely due to details like Nora’s hug at the beginning of the volume, but let’s be real, they’re still not perfect. Do we think Jaune and Yang would be this nonchalant if Ruby were kidnapped that way? Say all you want about Ruby being her sister, or others being teammates for longer, but the fact remains that Oscar has been taken to Salem herself and the only one reacting to that in any meaningful way is Ren. 

Who they say will “brood himself to death.” That right there. The one guy freaking out about your kidnapped friend should not be described as “brooding.”

All of which segues into my second point, namely that Yang doesn’t seem to care about Ruby anymore either! She asks Jaune, “Do you think she thinks less of me?” for not going to Amity and when Jaune reassures her that Ruby will always love her, Yang’s response is, “Yeah… Ruby.”

She was thinking about Blake.

The kicker? I thought she was talking about Ruby too. Because Ruby is her sister. Because she and Ruby had the fight (“fight”). Because Ruby was trying to call her to check in. Because Blake and Yang didn’t even acknowledge that they went on different missions here. I thought Blake was like Jaune, not really taking a side and just heading with Ruby because the team is splitting down the middle. Where did this worry come from?

And I want to praise RT here (I really do) because I can see the effort. I said Blake and Yang needed to spend time apart, they have. I said they needed to work through their co-dependent identities, now Blake is reminding Nora (and theoretically herself too) that someone you love is just a part of you. I said that the group couldn’t be a hive-mind, now there’s disagreement. I said the show needs to make Blake/Yang canon at some point and you can’t do that if they don’t talk about and to each other. So I fully admit that this is everything I asked for… so why does it feel so badly done? No matter how many boxes it checks off, it’s still a moment where we thought Yang was finally worrying about her sister again—like she used—and then it’s ‘Sike! It was really just about Blake! Again. Yang is worried about a problem that was never even introduced.’

I suppose that’s why it doesn’t work for me. Yang and Ruby had the falling out, but Yang and Blake, somehow, become the focus. Is it really so hard to write Yang as a sister and a potential love interest? Yang apparently can’t care for Ruby and Blake, Weiss can’t care for her team and her brother, Ruby can’t care for Mantle and Ironwood… it’s like each character gets one (1) thing to put their emotional energy towards at any given time and that’s it. That’s all they get.

On the flip side, this is why Ren feels like a person this episode. He cares about Mantle, and the future fight, and their past mistakes, and his place here, and the problems within the team, and Nora… He feels like a well-rounded person! vs. Yang and Jaune who don’t even consider his perspective, vs. Yang having a fight with her sister but only cares about Blake. They’re one-dimensional in comparison.

It is, as always, disappointing. 

As the group “broods” then the camera shows us a piece of the ice nearby, slowly cracking as Jaune says that “Things always seem to get worse before they get better.” Well, that’s unexpected. I didn’t think our opening would be literal. I’ve been worried about Atlas falling on everyone, not everyone falling… to whatever is underneath the kingdom as a whole. Is the kingdom falling apart? Or is something waking up and moving towards the surface? If RWBY can reproduce the characterization we got with the Hound, I wouldn’t be opposed to another leviathan grimm rising from the snowy deep to assist Salem…

Though how the fuck group will survive everything and that, who knows lol.

And that’s our episode! Issues aside—most of which have been ongoing issues. We knew they were there—I think this was our strongest episode so far this volume. Well done! There are still problems, no doubt, but at least I was only bored for a small portion of that 20 minutes. Let’s just keep heading in that direction.  

Exciting Saturday, huh?

Regarding bingo updates:

RWBY actually re-used a grimm I thought they’d abandoned, so well done there.

No civilians around for the giant grimm army to attack, so that was fine. Kind of strange though that they completely disappeared after the Hound left.

The timeline is starting to get wonky. For example, what kind of stakes am I supposed to expect when Cinder decides to head to Amity? Is it currently empty? Is Pietro there? Has Penny made it yet? I said weeks ago that RWBY would need to follow multiple groups to fill out fourteen episodes in just two days—and they’re definitely doing that—but that means we don’t have a clear sense of what events are happening simultaneously and what are meant to be linear.

No Winter or Ironwood this episode.

Watts is back with Jacques! Potential for team-up 2.0? That will admittedly be hard with Qrow and Robyn there, unless those two escape.

(Oh yeah, I thought Qrow and the others would be held in the military base and Ruby would find him during her heist… but she doesn’t even care that Qrow is in jail.)

Maria is still a ghost. If we hit the halfway mark with her not doing anything I’m calling the space.

I definitely wouldn’t call this cliffhanger needless. That’s actually a cool way to end things, even if Jaune’s line was pretty on the nose.

Neo may be getting closer to backstabbing Cinder if those expressions are anything to go by. 

Still waiting to see if Amity works.

And finally, drumroll please! …

“More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship.” Yup, I’m marking that this week. After Blake’s ‘just a part of you’ comment and now Yang only being worried about her reaction? Definitely calling it. If RWBY confirms a relationship this volume I’ll eat my words—and some celebratory cake — but until then salt prevails. Especially after the fiasco that was Supernatural.

Still no bingo. Ah well, maybe next week lol.

Until then! 💜

[Ko-fi]

[vivithefolle]

I loved your ranking of character arcs (for the main seven)! Would you mind going into more detail about Ron's character arc, and how he developed from the first to the last book? I apologise if you've already answered a similar request! :)

[Ranking of character arcs]

Well, during the first three books Ron is rather static - he’s awesome, but he doesn’t has much in the terms of “character growth” moments. He does epic stuff like the chess match, following the spiders et all we know, but that isn’t character growth as much as it is freaking badass.

The first three books serve to sow the basics for Ron’s character: he’s a devoted friend, he can face death with a laugh, and in spite of his bouts of rudeness or temper he’s fundamentally kind and doesn’t take himself too seriously - something two people like “boy-who-lived” Harry and “child prodigy” Hermione desperately need.

But what the first book does is introduce Ron’s emotional baggage.

"I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

This introduces us to Ron’s inferiority complex and its origins.

And later on, The Mirror Of Erised helps elaborate:

Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn't see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas.

Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Dumbledore will then add his grain of salt -

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.”

Something to know about Dumbledore - he’s JK Rowling’s mouthpiece. When she wants to tell us something, she puts it in him.

And... well, this looks like a rather... selfish interpretation of Ron’s desire. Especially the “standing alone” part. It somewhat implies that Ron is selfish - especially compared to Harry’s desire which is oh so pure and oh so sad because boo hoo orphan family stuff. (I may be letting all the times Harry fans have pulled the “butt herry iz an orhpan!! :’((” card colour my perception.)

“The best of all of them”. When Ron sees himself being both Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. He’s combining his brothers’ successes into himself. His belief is that this is how he could stand out and be loved - by combining his brothers’ accomplishments.

Anyway.

Goblet of Fire then makes us see Ron’s main problems - his insecurity can lead him astray. First he believes that Harry left him behind during the Triwizard, because why not? After all Ron has already seen that betrayal can come from the craziest places (Lockhart, aka adults/authority figures, Ginny being the Heir Of Slytherin aka family even against their will, and last but not least, freaking Scabbers, aka SEEMINGLY INNOCENT THINGS YOU FEED AND PROTECT). Add to it his budding feeling that he is overlooked in favour of Harry (the twins giving Harry the Marauders’ Map...) and Ron’s emotions get the best of him, which isn’t helped by Harry’s entitled attitude and his acting as though Ron is stupid for questioning him. And then Viktor Krum appears as a prop show us what a catch Hermione is and to be all that makes Ron insecure. The Yule Brawl serves to foreshadow Romione but also to show the negative aspects of Ron’s insecurity, namely jealousy and how he lashes out when he feels betrayed. However, at the end of Goblet of Fire, Ron symbolically outgrows his jealousy by asking Viktor Krum for his autograph.

Order of the Phoenix will then go on to show Ron being jealous of Krum, although being a bit less vocal about it... and it also gives Ron half of the things he’s dreamed of in first year: he’s made a prefect, and joins the Quidditch team. But those are immediately made hollow by the... lackluster reaction of his loved ones and by Malfoy being a vile piece of pond scum. The fact that he’s prefect could have been used to make Ron take on more responsibilities and showcase his motherly side more, but Rowling only used it to again pit him against Hermione by making Ron look like “the immature one” and making Hermione “the responsible one”. And then, to REALLY drive home the point that Ron isn’t allowed to have anything for himself, she has Dumbledore say “oh yeah Harry, you were supposed to be prefect, even though you’re basically allergic to rules and authority and also are emotionally stunted”, and so in a symbolic way VALIDATING Hermione’s reaction to Ron being prefect. Yeah fuck you too Rowling. And the Quidditch debacle could have been used to give Ron confidence in himself. Actually, it does somewhat give him confidence once he trounces Slytherin in the last match of the year. But the fact that Harry and Hermione weren’t present means that Ron’s victory is an afterthought, a background event, a minor thing. Yet, Ron still proves his maturity and patience by just accepting that his friends weren’t here to see him play. They don’t deserve him, seriously. This year also marks a drama-free year for Ron and Hermione, which could have then been built up to make them grow even closer in the next book... but oh, the faults of TERFs...

Half-Blood Prince basically takes all of Ron’s progression through the last two books and says “see that? All that? Well let’s pretend it never happened and do it again, but shittier!” The thing is, Rowling wants Ron to “make himself worthy of Hermione” like the very progressive person she is. But she is also aware that Ron is kind of a naïve romantic who wouldn’t date around while he’s in love with someone else. Unless... Unless she resurrects plotlines that have already been finished, thus bringing Ron back to square one. Now he’s back to not being able to play Quidditch properly and Hermione acts the saviour because girl power. Now he’s back to being enraged by Viktor Krum’s name. Now he’s even less mature than he was in Philosopher’s Stone because Plot Be Like That. JKR did do a pretty good job at setting up the whole argument, not gonna lie. Since Ron is so sensitive to betrayal, finding out that Hermione had lied to him about Krum would indeed make him furious, especially when he finds out that Ginny knew about it and (apparently) so did Harry. Basically, the entire sixth year is built to undermine Ron’s growth and character, both because Harry must be in love with Ginny and in order to properly appreciate Ginny he has to appreciate Ron’s qualities less, since Ginny and Ron basically have the same qualities Harry appreciates but he can only be in love with Ginny; and also because Ron “needed to make himself worthy of Hermione” courtesy of double-standards, sexism and general immaturity from our author.

Finally DH closes the horrible loop. Rather than letting Ron grow secure and confident, Rowling instead insists on pulling him down, and down, and down, then gives us Harry saying “she’s like my sister, I thought you knew” as if that somehow would fix the self-esteem issues and the self-hatred and the sheer abuse Ron is subjected to by his friends - and for someone as obsessed with "love redeems” as Rowling is, it probably is, but those of us suffering from depression know better. Even though the Epilogue shows us Ron being happy and confident enough to joke about fame, it still leaves a bitter taste in the mouth when you realize that Ron-bashers take the “Confunded the instructor” lines to absurd levels and use it as “proof” that Ron is a bad husband / lazy / a cheater / etc... when it’s immediately followed by -

"I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let's face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that."

This is basically Ron doing the wizard equivalent of the rear-view camera. But of course, bashfics have been written to make it so Ron causes a horrible crash accident and Hermione calls for divorce and blah blah blah sigh.

[zynart]

i trained a neural net on 10,000 irony-poisoned tweets and it gave me.. cringe?

I’ve been thinking about the concept from the header, about Twitter as an anti-empathy machine racing to the bottom to dredge up the least charitable interpretation possible, a lot lately. It fits as a way to describe so much modern internet culture. Machine in the sense of, a replicable set of steps, done by us individual cogs in the machine, with a feedback loop from engagement and dopamine. The industrialization of petty cruelty on a personal scale. And there’s so much to say about it but I want to talk about how it fucks with my own head

One way the hellsite, social media in general but in a uniquely powerful way on twitter, makes me miserable how it trains you to see cringe in everything

Now my inner voice immediately points out how every single thing is cringe. It’s a constant nihilistic voice in my head. The human brain is maybe too good at synthesizing an inside voice that learns from patterns around you and mimics their collective voice. It’s relentlessly cynical, almost like it foresees what irony-poisoned twitter would say and lets me know before I even act on the thought.

I pre-dunk on myself, and if someone real-dunks on me and their dunk is better, I dunk on myself for not even having done a good job of dunking on myself

(I guess I don’t want to generalize this, so let’s say this is about people who would immediately see “the hellsite” and know exactly what I mean. Which is the irony-poisoned twitter nexus of politics/left/meme/media twitter that I’m plugged into all the time, the nexus that generates all this discourse that I’m plugged into all the time, the only people who would bother reading more than two sentences of this?

I have no illusions that people from knitting twitter or sports twitter is the audience for this. If I were doing targeted ads it would be for people who’ve tweeted at least 8 times about NYT op-eds and can tell you what people are mad about on a given day)

But it probably makes the rest of us miserable too. Or some of us. I don’t think there’s a way to argue that it’s healthy and non-toxic and not detrimental to our mental health, but we can’t let go

visibly caring about anything? cringe

creating stuff?

being proud of stuff you’ve created? cringe

thinking its good?

thinking anyone should care about your art?

or your feelings? cringe

every language tic you have? cringe

My neural net has trained itself to find the most cutting way it can be mimicked and mocked. And I mean, I guess often they’re funny. People have a knack for distilling things about the way you speak and seizing onto everything mockable and isolating it in an absurd way. There are so many ways I could make fun of the way I talk. There are certain words I overuse. I have issues with brevity. Any long-winded run-on all-lowercase sentence about depression or loneliness starting with “I feel like” with 5-6 of my overused words and a self-reply threading it without adding much would be a brutal roast of me. Nobody has done that yet, to my knowledge, because I’m not relevant enough for people to have heard of, thank god

(I don’t know the context of those two tweets, but before quoting the anti-empathy machine tweet I wanted to credit the concept of the empathy machine to its first appearance on twitter search results and to Roger Ebert, I guess)

And tastes! We’re not done:

every joke? probably cringe

most pop culture references? cringe

especially if they’re mainstream?

especially if they have Obama-era naivete?

especially if their politics are out of touch? cringe

(people who like, say, Parks & Rec must all be rubes, too naïve and simple to see the flaws of liberal optimism? People who like 90s laugh-track sitcoms must be rubes with an unsophisticated sense of humor that needs to be told, via laugh track, when to laugh. People who like soap operas? Cringe. They clearly don’t understand more subtle prestige tv or cult classics. the internet really can do this all day)

I mean, I like things I know are very flawed. And I like to think that I’m aware of the flaws and that I find something in it that I value—maybe it’s comfort watching, or nostalgia, maybe I appreciate melodrama or think there’s a lot of solid jokes that I’d appreciate if I didn’t let my instinctive dislike of laugh tracks snap me out of it, or maybe I appreciate the laugh track on its merits because the people who devoted their lives to making television probably understood the instinctive appeal of their tools, maybe I think the characters are good or I appreciate the plotting or the visuals, maybe I just like camp, or just find something a guilty pleasure, or sometimes I like zoning out to watch hot people argue with each other, maybe there’s some way in which all these other folks are finding value in this piece of pop culture which is an angle that just doesn’t come—

and I think for the most part the generosity we have for our liking of the dumb things we like, or for people who like the same dumb problematic thing we like, is something we deny others. And I think for the most part, people are no more and no less stupid or thoughtful than you or me)

But also, you know what:

being dismissive of mainstream stuff? cringe

being pretentious?

being into French art house films from the 1950s?

being into sad indie music?

being into mid-century philosophers? cringe

using academic language?

being openly jaded and cynical? kinda cringe

I used to enthusiastically care about making stuff. Or learning stuff. About writing things from stories to policy briefs to articles. Trying to persuade people. Literal "I trained a neural net on 10,000 irony-poisoned tweets and it gave me this" situation

But then it goes:

trying to contribute to the world?

believing what you’re going to do with your life or career matters?

idealism?

seeing yourself as part of helping make a better world? delusional

thinking anything I could contribute is valuable? arrogant

or could make a difference? naive

that anyone should listen to anything I have to say? arrogant

wanting people to read or listen to stuff I make? entitled

thinking they could possibly like it? delusional

all of the above? cringe, cringe, cringe

I’m not under the illusion that any of this matters to anyone except a small handful of people in a very niche group of people whose neural nets are firing away right now doing the calculations to reach the most cynical take possible, or the best way to roast this concept, or a smart take on how this is bullshit.

And I’m not saying this to pre-empt critique. This isn’t some call for civility. Most criticism I could receive is probably worthwhile and smart

(That’s the nuance of it all, isn’t it? So often real criticism is written off as an artifact of internet dynamics, or as examples of the toxicity of social media, or cancel culture, or whatever you want to call it. And that’s why it’s hard to try talk about it

I don’t even think that’s usually in bad faith. Sometimes it’s hard to accept criticism as justified, or even as pointing to a real issue even if the body of it wasn’t quite justified, especially if the context is mean and not politely constructive, and it’s easy to write it off as one more example of the bullying toxicity and cruelty of the internet

We’re too close to our own work and our own speech to have total clarity when something stings)

All I want is for my brain’s first impulse to not be running through a card deck of possible faults and trying to match them up against whatever I read. Maybe I’ll end up with the same conclusions and the same criticisms. I just want to approach it charitably, and be deliberate about my problems with something. I don’t want my reactions to be instinctive and my reasoning to work backward from that, which is really easy to do even without realizing it. I just want to be intentional about it

So I guess, in summary:

writing this? cringe

thinking anyone would care about this?

CRINGE

if you liked this, feel free to check out my other 'essays' on internet/pop culture stuff on my homepage. here's a selection:

· “book lovers” don’t love anything about books and it’s weird (or, defending classic novels)

· there are things we owe to each other

· humanity is worth loving, humans are worth saving

· what makes someone good, bad, cancelled, or redeemed? i don't know either!

· please tell me if you have a definitive answer on what makes someone a bad person

· ok, fine, my social justice politics feel a bit like religion sometimes and that’s ok

· after the deluge (short story) (dispatch from an island state post climate apocalypse)

[back to home]

[yongiefilms]

EVANESCENCE.

pairing: mark lee x reader (female)

genre: fluff; angst; hints of humor; best friends!au; high school!au; college!au; unrequited love!au

warnings: language, heartbreak, indirect mentions of depression, crying is involved, mentions of death and loss, complex feelings, if you have a weak heart this may be hard to bear, you are literally in for a ride with a lot of ups and downs (i don’t know this is hard to put warnings on for some reason just beware with angsty teen feels aka angsty teen mark)

word count: 6.4k (how did i write this much? it is surely a mystery)

summary: distance is hard for anyone. it’s especially hard for couples, and maybe even more so best friends. with hundreds of thousands of miles separating you and mark lee, it’s impossible not to note the countless possibilities of what could go so wrong by being away from each other for an unknown amount of time. to cope with that longing mark lee writes to you, and he can only hope the feelings he pours out to you on paper are enough to keep that one thread you both are hanging by, unwavering and simply together.

author’s note: this fic is dedicated to our favorite giggly, watermelon loving, and adorably awkward social boy—mark lee. it’s officially his birthday in the states so happy 21st birthday, my precious and sweet boy. thank you for always brightening up our world and putting a smile on our faces. also, huge shoutout to my proofreaders/beta readers ( @wooqzi​ and @mjlkau​ ). you both were literally lifesavers and i can’t thank you enough for enduring through this semi-long fic with me, but i love you my renjun enthusiasts, you’re amazing.

THE CONTENTS OF THIS LETTER IS CONFIDENTIAL AND SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE OTHER THAN Y/N L/N. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

march 16, 20XX

my dearest y/n,

i remember the first time i saw you. i remember it so vividly that it seems like it was just yesterday, a fleeting instant in time that managed to stand still, being permanently engraved in my brain. it was november 15th, 20XX—our sophomore year of high school. i recall walking into our school’s library at around 3:25pm because i had to return a book from my literature and composition class. at that point i was also still waiting for my ride to come pick me up so i thought why not kill two birds with one stone? however, i wasn’t prepared for what i would see. (call me cheesy, though i already know you did once you saw the first couple of sentences).

when i strode in i saw you as if we were in the movies, where the male lead is stunned into awe at the gorgeous girl he comes across. you were sitting at a table by yourself in the center of the room with your back to me and the infamous large window that covered nearly the entire wall behind you. for some reason that same day was exceptionally beautiful. the sky was a vibrant blue shade with a few remains of scattered clouds, dotting the sky in white freckles. the sun shone a little brighter than usual, its warmth felt like a blanket wrapped around the body and it reflected across your face at the heaven-sent angle when you turned your head the tiniest bit, adoring you in a pleasant glow. i strolled in right at that moment when the sun decided to showcase you in its beauty and i couldn’t help but be astonished. you looked so ethereal and virtuous. i simply couldn’t look away. your arms were rested on the table, on either side of the book you had opened and when the sun was covered by a transient cloud, casting you in its shadow, is when you became more real, more like someone who was attainable. you then suddenly groaned and put your head down rather harshly on top of the book, emitting a loud sigh. i was quite surprised that no one called you out due to the noise you were making, you were in a library after all. (just know i can picture you rolling your eyes just about now).

yet i perceived it was odd that from merely hearing your sound of distress, i wanted to protect you. i wanted to shield you from future harm and future inapt doings. you made my heart clench so tightly i wondered what was wrong with me and how i could feel so deeply. i didn’t even know you. i hadn’t even seen you around school before. you were a stranger to me so why did i feel a certain way? i questioned myself and even still, to this day, i can’t bring myself to give you answers for that query nor can i find them. i suppose that is where i put the blame for what happened next.

i was so caught up in my head that i didn’t notice my feet had moved on their own accord right next to your table, where your head still rested. i know i must have looked insane and i don’t inculpate you for your reaction in the slightest. i was brought back to reality when the sun shone in my eyes just allowing me to turn my head to see you in your empyrean grandeur. the timing was appropriate too, because that was when you snapped your head up to meet my eyes. i was as startled as you, but it showed more clearly in your eyes rather than mine, considering i was so disoriented from reality. your eyes were wide, allowing me to clearly see the stunning color that was full of curiosity. you tilted your head to the right like a lost puppy kicked to the curb, waiting for someone to finally claim them. nevertheless, your own surprise didn’t last long since mere seconds after you scoffed loudly and turned away from me to bring your attention back to your assignment. your next words were the ones that sealed the deal and i seriously must have been crazy to be attracted by mere words that offended me above all, but they didn’t. if anything my heart clenched in my chest even more. (i must have been so out of it…i know you are laughing your ass off right now because of the dilemma i had. cruel). but you said, “what the hell are you looking at? you weirdo.” i knew then that would be the start of a glorious friendship and it was. i never happen to be wrong and that was one time i was thankful, even if it isn’t my most fondest memory (shut up) it still sparked the start of something much greater. something that i felt could last a lifetime.

so yes, we became the best of friends ever since that day and what a wild ride it was to get to that point. i knew you considered me too weird, too quiet, and too awkward for your taste, but we made the friendship work. we became inseparable even in our differences and for the rest of the years to come in high school, we were joined by the hip. there wasn’t you without me and there wasn’t me without you. you always had mark lee with y/n l/n and vice versa. i guess you could say you had me marked in your heart as you were in mine. (cue another eye roll and a laugh. i know you laughed). we were known for being that inseparable duo of best friends. you couldn’t have one without the other. some thought it was peculiar to see the once lonely boy and spirited girl befriend one another and be so compatible. it was unexpected, but they got used to it like all the other things that come and go. they came to accept it and even if their opinions didn’t matter to you, those things did to me because i wasn’t like you. i couldn’t brush off dislike or unacceptance. i didn’t have the power to do so, but don’t worry anymore, my love, i have come a long way and perhaps it is all due to you.

i’ve always wondered how we balanced each other out since everyone said we just didn’t quite fit the picture. you were dauntless and confident, knowing exactly what you wanted and you weren’t afraid to go out to get it. while i was embarrassing and closed off, not knowing the path to follow for my life and too scared to make mistakes when i knew i couldn’t fix them. although through our own struggles we were able to help each other grow and find ourselves. we became comfortable in our own skin and accepted who we were with all our faults, failures, and imperfections. you were someone who guided me and i only hoped that i was able to guide you the same way you did during this absurd journey of teenage life.

i suppose that is why i am afraid to tell you these next few words, these next few paragraphs that place my heart out for everyone to see and hear—but i don’t care about them, i only have ever cared for you and i always will. you may have assumed this from the start of this letter or it may have gone over your head as something that is normal for everyone to experience with another attractive soul at first glance. or you may have known throughout our years of knowing each other. you could have picked up the signs of things that weren’t so platonic—the gazes, the touches, or the words that meant something more than just friendly. you could have noticed, but refused to acknowledge the deeper undertones for your sake and most certainly my own. i know you and i know the last thing you would want for me is to be hurt or disappointed. to feel like you failed me when in reality if you knew that wouldn’t have mattered, since to me our friendship is worth more than any romance, if there would have been one at all. so you know, i am certain now, but it still scares me to write it down, to have it on permanent record for you to read whenever you want.

so here it goes.

over that time, over the course of us getting to know each other and becoming who we are today, the best of friends, i slowly started to fall for you—the person you were, someone i couldn’t be even if i tried. someone so raw, beautiful, and most of all real, both on the inside and out. you know i never was shallow, i never cared about someone’s appearance as what held significance to me the most was the heart. if your heart was good and wholesome and filled with love. that is what matters and the only thing that should. so while you are gorgeous (don’t let that get to your head now), you had a golden soul that i fell for ever so intensely.

i guess that’s why i decided to be daring that day—our senior graduation. you may be confused on what i mean since nothing was out of the ordinary that day, well for you at least. for me it was a different story. you see i had decided to do something, something out of my comfort zone and i honestly don’t know what came over me to do it in the slightest. you know how i am, i never like to be put into an uncomfortable situation since i don’t know how to deal with them. my social awkwardness just gets the best of me, but in that spur of a tick, realizing this was a huge milestone in our lives that we were overcoming, a milestone that would release us into the real world, i mused there was no harm. i really didn’t have anything to lose, except you that is. i could lose you, but i guess i knew deep within my heart that was a slim possibility because nothing could tear us apart, not even stupid teenage feelings. so you could say i finally gained enough confidence after spending so much time with you to do something out of the ordinary—to be bold like you. to just confess the truth and not worry about the consequences after. to just speak my mind and not surrender to fear. you helped me get to that point and while it did take some time, i was happy with who i came to be. someone proud with who they are, even for split second and i knew i had to do it before i turned back into a coward—before it was too late.

i had the ideal moment planned prior to it happening. i was going to tell you after we finished taking our graduation photos. there wasn’t a better time than that, when we were trying to capture the last moments of our high school career together. taking pictures with those we grew closer to over the years, those that made everything a little more sane, a little more fun. so when we look back we can reminisce about those times, no matter how many ups and downs there were because we finally reached the end goal. we made it.

after searching for you amongst the growing crowd for several long minutes after we proceeded off the stage, i saw you come towards me first, with your blue gown flowing in the wind. you literally ran full speed ahead and when you were a few inches away, you crashed into me. i had stumbled from the impact, taking several steps back so we both wouldn’t fall, as my arms came to rest around your own. you maneuvered your arms around my chest to give me a bear hug, stripping the oxygen away from me. when you let go after being in my embrace for what felt like eternity, i could clearly see your face. you were in a great mood—a beam on your face, your cheeks flushed from the sun’s heat, your eyes wide open with stars that filled the void, and your skin left in a brilliant glow. happiness surrounded you and a grin made its way onto my face at how in your element you finally looked. i knew it was then or never again, for your encouraging grin left me weak, yet strong. the perfect moment. yet, no moment is perfect. no one moment ever seems perfect for me. it doesn’t work out because fate wasn’t on my side—nor would it be for a long time.

you must have wanted to tell me something too that fateful day, since i could feel your excitement in my own bones and spot it a mile away, as right when i was about to confess, right when i opened my mouth to say those three dreaded words, you cut me off. you told me you had news, exciting and life changing news. news that would shatter me and wither my confidence away till what was left was speck of dust. you told me you were leaving to go to the states. that was the first pain i felt in my body. your admission letter had come in the mail earlier that morning when you were about to leave the house, on your way to the graduation ceremony. you were too anxious when your father relayed the news that you had gotten mail as your foot was almost out the door. you couldn’t wait to open it as your eagerness didn’t allow you to, so when you were handed that one large envelope addressed with your name from your dream college, your hands didn’t stop from ripping it open.

you got in.

you got into harvard university, the one college you told me since sophomore year that you wanted to go to, if it was the last thing you could do. i was so estatic for you, i was, because i knew how much the acceptance meant to you. you were working hard ever since you could talk and your passion was a huge part of that dedication to excelling in your academics. you deserved it more than anyone i knew, but my heart couldn’t help but crumble out of that exuberance.

you were rambling on about how thrilled you were and what you would do at college, all the classes you would take, the extracurricular activities, how you would have your own dorm or apartment and decorate it the way you wished. you just looked exactly how you did that day i took you out on a picnic to watch the sunset on that hill that overlooked the town—without a care in the world and so very content. so i couldn’t confess now, when you were going places, the places you dreamed of and when your life would take off for the better. you were just getting started, yet i couldn’t say what i so desperately wanted to say when you simply told me you were leaving, and so soon at that. i didn’t want to hold you back and i just know you are telling me i wouldn’t have, but i know the truth as do you. you would have stayed behind because you care too enormously with your heart to ever let me go, to ever have me sorrowful. so i didn’t say anything when you backtracked and asked me what i wanted to say before you spilled the news. i was thinking more with my head rather than my heart at that juncture. you gazing at me with your star-filled eyes and dazzling smile, i couldn’t do it, no matter how much energy coursed through my veins. i kept my mouth shut and told you it was nothing. you accepted the excuse though i know you knew it was a lie. we could always tell when the other lied and i was just glad you believed it at that point. i held back my feelings and my wants for your feelings and wants—for your needs. your life, your wishes, and your desires always meant more to me than my own. so we took those graduation photos and laughed with the rest of our friends. we were joyful then even if the future remained imbalanced and unsure.

you left later that month since you had to settle into a new country, a new state, a new culture, and a new life. in that time it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t spend every minute side by side and we did since you wanted to cherish our time together—our last time together. you would be on one end of the world and i would be on the other, thousands of miles separating us and a wide expanding sea. it was surreal and it still is. so we treasured all of it, even the little moments of going to each other’s houses in the wee hours of the morning to just watch the sunrise or late at night to watch the stars, to go get ice-cream when we felt like it, to watch movies in your bedroom with the lights down low—to just bask in each other’s presence. we made even more memories, granted that we had plenty to go around. those last weeks with you were the best of my life, even if it felt like nothing was changing, even if it was our normal routine before the shift. even so it still made me fall deeper as i saw your true colors in an even brighter light as if i never truly saw you before. there was so much about you that just made me curious even if i knew every part of you, every aspect of your being, from the simple things like your favorite color to your hatred for pineapple on pizza, and to the deep things like your fear of being forgotten or not being good enough. even if i knew so much, there was still more to unravel and discover as you were so complex. there isn’t another person like you in the world. there can’t be since you are one of a kind. they may have your face or outward appearance, but they can’t have your fair heart or pure soul.

i shouldn’t have been dazed that these emotions i had for you would solely blossom beyond belief. i couldn’t protest either because i knew they would grow more fervent since it is so hard to control myself around you. i sound like a giddy schoolboy, but with you i can’t help but let everything run wild and free. i put my entire heart and being out onto a silver platter just for you and i knew you would only ever take good care of it. after all if anything they would be yours to either tear or mend.

so when that dreadful day arrived i wasn’t ready for the whirlwind of storm to be released and let loose. you were leaving and wouldn’t come back.

i had been in the car with you that day as well as with your parents since they were flying over with you in order to help you maneuver around a new territory and get you settled in before the start of your semester. i couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you before so i tagged along. we all strolled up to the gate and your parents passed through, leaving you with me so we could have some privacy to say everything we needed to say. albeit there weren't enough words in the world to tell you how i felt at that stage, enough words for the both of us. therefore, we let our actions speak louder. you latched onto me, putting your arms around my neck and hugged me so closed till i was sure there was no room between our bodies in that suffocating airport.

you know you told me a hundred times, maybe even a thousand times during those last weeks before you left, how much you loved me. how much i meant to you and how much you cared for me. i don’t even think the amount of times i heard that from other people could compare to how many times you said it. while they may have meant it, i know you truly did and that was the deepest sorrow to know, which broke me a little further. regardless, i did tell you them right back, how could i not when it was you? i told you those three words and eight letters every time in response, twenty-four hours and seven days a week, but when you said them there, in the midst of the crowd in the airport, it felt different. it felt more meaningful, like there was an underlying tone i couldn’t decipher and it broke me the furthest i could go.

tears came from me and you, flowing between our clashed bodies. they made their way down your face and stained my own, out of jubilation and utter devastation. when you said it in between your sobs, repeating the words like a mantra against my neck and pulled me in even closer, i told you those words back. i whispered them against your temple, kissing the side of your head every time i repeated them and i meant them with all my heart because i truly did love you, so much, just in a way you didn’t love me, and never could.

i was sure i couldn’t recover from your departure once i saw you walk through those gates and let go of me. i wondered if i could ever hold you back again like i did at that moment. it felt like a part of me was being left behind. we were two halves of a whole and with you going, there would always be a missing puzzle piece. a piece of me would always be incomplete and i didn’t know how to feel, nor do i now. there is a hole in my chest of where you belong and i think there always will be until we connect in person again.

looking back i still smile at that memory—at all our recollections together. the woeful ones and the euphoric ones because they help me burden the pain, the heartbreak at your withdrawal from my life. it may sound dramatic considering we are still part of each other’s lives, just not in the way we were before. for distance separates us and threatens to split us apart.

you may think it doesn’t, but we both know the actuality. distance is the cause of these things—friendships, relationships, and love breaking beyond a point that is impossible to fix. where all those things are left in the dust and are fragments of what once was. now distance endangers our own foundations, our own very little things, so it’s illogical not to think about how it might destroy us. i never was a pessimistic person, but now being miles away from you, it’s hard not to think this way. i try to block it out. i try so hard, but sometimes i can’t help but allow negativity to take over, for without you here to shed light, the darkness swallows me whole.

i already know how you look reading this letter, in fact i knew from the very start what it would result in. i knew your emotions would get the best of you as they overwhelm you and you can’t hold them in like you desire to. maybe it happened from the very start or maybe it started now, but i want you to stop the tears that are already cascading down your face. don’t cry reading this. this piece of paper is not worth your tears, even if you think the opposite way and maybe those words i just wrote don’t mean anything because you are already sobbing, but stop them before they consume you. i am not worthy of those tears nor is it my intention to ever make you weep.

you know you always said you couldn’t cry, your body wouldn’t let you wail even if you begged it to. you told me that the day your grandmother died and you came over to me after the funeral. you told me no matter how glum you were and how much pain you felt, you couldn’t mourn for your grandmother. that you pushed your body to release tears but it wouldn’t so you looked unmoving and without emotion during the service. while that may have been the truth just that once, i knew well enough that was a lie. you were numb to feeling since you lost someone, but you body did want to grieve since you were just holding yourself back from looking weak. nonetheless you never are so-called frail because you are the toughest person i know and tears don’t dictate that strength regardless.

so in the deepest part of your room, at the latest times of the night when you thought no one was looking or knew, you cried your heart out. you whimpered too often and i was able to tell even if i never voiced it, but somehow you knew that i knew and you were okay with it. you were okay with letting me know you were and are human. so every time when you would cry i told you that you were too beautiful for it, in order to give you a piece of how i saw you in my head. to allow you to understand it was okay and normal above all. even now, though i can’t see your tear stricken face, you are stunning. so don’t bawl, but rather smile for me.

good.

your smile was always one of my favorite characteristics of yours. the most blinding beam that could light up a room and make anyone forget their worries.

you know even if it may seem gloomy, blame the mood in which this letter took a turn, i still am grateful we keep in contact even if you are so many miles away, because that’s the only thing i ever wanted, to keep in touch with you—to remain best friends. a factor that we still are…(for now).

so yes, it may be six months since i last saw you face-to-face, six months since you left, six months since we managed to stay in contact, but i can just feel you slipping away, becoming someone without me by your side through it all. yes, i know you and i are still who we are since those months ago, since sophomore year, but it’s just something that i can’t help but feel.

in fact i already sense it, it is near, but yet far. you know how i know? when we were on call the other day. it was last wednesday i believe and we were chatting about how our day went, the usual things in our routine, that is until you casually mentioned someone asked you out on a date last week. the mere fact that you didn’t tell me the day of or the day after it happened hurt more than your following words, albeit they equally packed a punch. you told me it was that one boy from your history of psychology class, the boy you did countless assignments with before, the boy you befriended nearly the first day your classes started. the boy i felt would take my spot from your life, if not as your lover, then as your best friend. i forgot his name, but i recollect you said he had that incorrupt look on his face that you perceived him to be pure the first day you laid eyes on him, although after learning more about him, he was far from being innocent. you told me in explicit detail what he looked like and the personality he had. i recall bits and pieces, even if i desperately tried to forget. delicate hands, an artistic gift, a slightly short stature, a cute grin, and a savage attitude to contradict the façade. exactly like you, exactly like the day i met you with your sharp tongue and doe eyes in the library, the complete opposite of each other. while i know i reach far in many regards calling him a soon to be lover or best friend, he still has potential even if he may not have any of those labels. i know he might not be the one—the one you’ll end up marrying in a few years down the road when you have a doctor’s degree in one hand and a ring on the other, but he might as well be. he might as well be that man because the future is unimaginable to foretell, but he can still be that shell of someone you want, he can still fill the void until the time comes. so yes, he very much will have your heart for a while, if you deem him worthy enough, if you pursue him the way he wants to pursue you. the way you were talking about him with your tone and the smile i could hear it in your voice gave it away. i knew something was there and you would give it a shot. he might be one of many before you find the ideal one over the years and he very well might be the one, but even if he was not, he would be your first in more ways than i was. he’ll be someone i wish i could have been. someone i wish would allow me to shoot my shot, but i didn’t since with all my talk i still, deep down, was a coward.

you can’t say i am wrong anyways since sometime, someday, some when it will happen. however, what still remains, in this bit, right now, as you read, is that we are still y/n and mark. mark and y/n. we are still us, but why does it feel like we aren’t at the same time?

it’s a deep question i must admit, it is what keeps me up some nights as i search for the answer and ponder for the meaning. i still don’t know the full answer, but i know enough. we are growing up. we are growing up y/n. we aren’t 15 anymore. we aren’t those sophomore kids that had no idea what the real world had in store and were gullible in every way, shape, and form. we simply aren’t high schoolers who only cared about our grades or appearance or the plans we had after school. we aren’t those kids. we are slowly becoming adults. we are slowing steering away from our teenage years and in that comes this question of self-identity.

who are we?

that is what we are trying to look for. we are finding who we are through everything we do—through our daily lives. we are finding ourselves…without the other. we have been so close for so long and grew into that space in an unhealthy amount of time. we grew accustomed to each other’s presence so now it is almost unbearable being apart for so long. we became so attached we don’t know what to do with ourselves and it’s the cold hard reality. it’s the truth that we don’t know ourselves individually, only together and that’s why it hurts more than ever that we have to be led astray, sometime soon. to know that soon enough that time will come. to know that yes, we still contact each other every day, we still have our weekly face times or calls and what you deem our “online friend dates” during the weekends, but as often as they are, they will change. we will no longer have the time to do that as college gets crazier for both of us, as we become more involved in a college life full of parties, friends, clubs, and whatever else it may be as we move out of being freshmen and get closer to our real life careers. you and i will know when that happens as our calls will become less frequent, our check-ins almost nonexistent with the other being left in the dust for days to weeks to months on end. we merely won’t be in contact anymore and i am sorry when that comes, my love. we’ll forget each other, its expected especially as we grow older, as we date, as we find love, as we befriend new people, as we move in the direction we are meant to be going and with that the worst part follows because i know sooner or later we will have to let each other go, if we don’t neglect. we can’t hold each other back and we will dwindle to a memory of what once was, of a simpler time before. i will be the forgotten one, the one in the background of your most prominent memories, someone you can’t help but look back on.

although we aren’t there yet, but we will be.

soon.

even if at this point you hate how many times i have written that word and so do i, but don’t you dare take the high road since we all know at some point all marvelous friendships die for an unexplainable reason or reasons. ours would just have to be because of life. that’s what makes life well...life. it is all part of the journey, the road to an unforeseeable future, but there can still be hope, it doesn’t just diminish like a candle flame put out by a gust of wind. no, hope still exists, you just have to grasp it when it comes around.

if. i always hated the word if, but if it’s meant to be then we will find each other, we will come around full circle at some point. have hope for both of us when i have none.

still, when you get this, it may be too late. maybe you will have unremembered about me in the seconds of time in between the unwavering silence. only then would we have both moved on, since there is no point in reaching out for something that isn’t worth saving when it all faded away before. only then will i be just a memory and reading this will spark those thought of i knew him once before during a ephemeral moment in my life when i was a teen in high school rather than a college student, but i know i am not late.

it is one thing i am sure of.

until then, until that foreboding time arrives i’ll hold dear what we have. i will try to preserve this friendship for both of our sakes until it’s time to say goodbye or more accurately a see you later if you want to be hopeful.

whenever that may be.

i know you hate goodbyes more than anything, the word itself rattles in your bones. so y/n, see you soon, in person—someday if it’s what’s right.

it has to be right doesn’t it?

fate has to be on our side because it knows us, it knows that there isn’t me without you and there isn’t you without me. when that time arrives of us seeing each other or withering away like every flower does at the end of its life, i hope, i pray that you won’t forget me as i most certainly won’t forget you.

so just call to mind in everything you do, in everything you say, dwell on the time before college—of a time when you were a child, someone lost, someone finding themselves and in it all remember there was someone who loved you before. someone who loved you at your worst as well as at your best, before you became who you were truly meant to be, and he loved you with all his heart.

he promises he always will.

that he is me.

i love you, y/n l/n. always and forever.

never forget it.

yours truly,

mark lee  

on march 16th, 20XX at approximately 8:02pm mark lee sealed his letter to y/n and put it in his coat pocket. on march 17th, 20XX at approximately 10:32am mark lee made his way to the postal office to drop off his letter and at 10:36am the letter dropped into the box on its way to the united states. on march 20th at approximately 11:42am mark lee’s letter arrived at the massachuesetts postal office and was separated upon arrival to be delivered sometime within the week. on march 22nd at 2:07pm, mark lee’s letter arrived at y/n’s apartment complex and was dropped in the inboxes of the residents. on march 24th at approximately 7:02am y/n went to pick up the mail, but what wasn’t in the pile was the letter from mark lee. sometime between when the letter arrived in the states to the mailman driving to the complex, his letter had gotten lost. the truck’s windows were open and mark lee’s letter was at the top of the pile when the truck was parked. an unsettling breeze was felt against the mailman’s face as he gripped the entire pile of mail, though mere seconds before the letter was picked up by the wind and whooshed onto the ground several feet away. the mailman did not take note and continued on, not noticing something was missing. y/n never received mark lee’s letter and neither of them would have known how things would have ended up differently if she had. for from that point on they would be a fading memory to each other and their friendship would wane away. y/n would begin to forget the calls with mark. mark would no longer reach out after months of silence from both parties. y/n would date the boy she told mark about, his name was huang renjun and they would fall in love, but mark would never know his name or know what came to be. they would become strangers and not best friends. lost to the tragic distance that separated them across the sea. if only y/n received the letter. if only mark lee confessed. if only he had know y/n felt the same. if only their friendship hadn’t evanescenced into nonexistence…like all unrequited love stories do.