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calaofnoldor · 4 years

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Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x male!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #mutual pining #sammy's got a crush #fake it #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #redbubble #lexicolor

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Midnight”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I’d like to extend a formal congratulations to every Cinder fan in the community. Criticisms of the writing aside, you all struck gold with twelve whole minutes devoted to your fave and I’m absolutely thrilled for you.

We again start with a dark screen and some audio, in this case Cinder’s scrubbing. This technique—along with closeups on eyes—is a real favorite of RWBY’s this volume, to the point where I think they’re a little too enamored with it. But at least this is just a preference, not something that actively harms the storytelling in any way, so it’s welcome to stay. This time, unlike our premiere, we stay on Cinder as her life is summed up with three events intercut with one another: scrubbing floors, getting taunted by boys, and the sound of heels making their way towards her. It’s clear that Cinder leads a poor, miserable life, if her dirty clothes and stronger guys throwing her around is any indication, but all that changes when the rich woman says “I’ll take her” and Cinder is transported to a better life in a wealthy hotel.

At least supposedly.

Here’s my problem with the worldbuilding. This moment has Witcher vibes and Witcher, in turn, built itself off of a trope seen a hundred times before: A young woman is treated terribly by her family, is whisked away by a wealthy/powerful caretaker, and though her life has arguably improved, she quickly learns that the new world she’s entered is just as dangerous and harsh as the one she left. In Witcher’s case, Yennefer is a disabled woman abused by her family, bought by Tissaia, and taken to Aretuza where the other girls hate her and the curriculum is potentially deadly. Cinder is a poor woman arguably abused by her family (scrubbing)/the locals (fights), is taken by an unnamed woman, and whisked away to the swanky hotel where the daughters hate her and the work is potentially deadly due to shock collars. The difference between these two setups is that Tissaia bought Yennefer because of her magical potential. Why does our hotel lady take Cinder?

I mean yeah, obviously she wants a slave, but it’s a little weird isn’t it? Usually when a young woman falls headfirst into a new and questionable life, there’s a solid reason for her entry. This woman—whose lack of a name also says something about the worldbuilding—could have hired anyone she pleased to abuse. As we saw in regards to Atlas and Mantle in the past, every city has its poor and downtrodden. So what made her go out to some random farm and snatch Cinder up? It just, as always, feels a little too convenient. Cinder didn’t enter this life because something about her characterization or origin justified it, the plot simply ensured that she, out of everyone possible, and with very little reason, was the one chosen to follow The Plot™ .

It also messes with the Cinderella parallels. Originally (or “originally,” going off of Disney here which is likely what RWBY is using as a template too) it’s her step-family that abuses her and yes, we recreate that via the hiring (“hiring”—I doubt she was paid), but Cinder was already scrubbing floors back home. Her status as the servant already existed. So why change locations? Why not just keep Cinder as an abused farm girl, or have her a part of the hotel family right from the start? Part of the reason why Cinderella resonates is because of the contrast between the happy life with her father and the new, horrific life she falls into once he dies. Which is then further contrasted by the rest of the outside world. Fairy Godmother, Prince, and party-goers alike are all presented as kind, decent people. They represent the “real” world that Cinderella can escape to. By making Cinder’s original life horrible, her new life worse, and everyone connected with that life cruel and/or indifferent (with the exception of this one, special huntsmen)… you paint a very different picture of the world as a whole. Which is something RWBY has been vocal about trying to accomplish—it’s not a fairy tale—the only problem is with how these moments are undermined the second the story wants Ruby to ~Believe in People~. Cinderella is a story about enduring and eventually overcoming temporary hardship. Cinder’s story is about endless hardship that creates villains. A dark and fascinating story… but how does that fit into last week’s episode where Ruby told the whole world about Salem, expecting them to band together in peace and harmony? This is how Remnant’s world treats people when there’s not a global crisis, and Cinder isn’t even a faunus.

Which, I want to make clear going into the rest of this recap, does not excuse Cinder for her actions. At all. I think there are some complicated acknowledgements to be made in terms of her abuse and the Huntsmen’s responsibility in it continuing, but that does not give Cinder a blanket pass for all the horrific shit she has pulled over the years. Cinder didn’t just defend herself from abusers, she became one. More on that in a minute.

First though… is the Huntsmen’s name Rhodes? Did we hear that in the episode? If we did, I totally missed it because I have a note here about the one important character not getting a name. So yeah, idk. If we got this from more supplemental info, bad RWBY. If I missed it, bad Clyde. Either way, I’ll use that name going forward.

Back to the plot at hand. The hotel is, as said, populated by indifferent and shallow people and there’s no desert nearby, so I presume we’re supposed to be in Atlas? (Why did this woman buy a girl from another Kingdom?) There are customers getting drunk, flirting, and generally just enjoying their wealth, which harkens back to Weiss’ comment in Volume 4 about all their problems being superficial. We’re introduced to the owner’s two daughters who are, as expected, quintessential Mean Girls.

They love ordering Cinder around, not just with hotel chores, but personal ones as well like, “rub my feet”… despite the fact that this place is massive and must have an equally massive staff to stay in business. Why aren’t the girls terrorizing anyone else? Again, it makes sense for Cinder(ella) to be the focus of their abuse when she’s in a single household, but transplanting that to a hotel raises a lot of questions that RWBY hasn’t bothered to examine. You can’t move a story like that and not think about what further changes that would evoke.

See, RWBY could have done something interesting here by considering some of those other changes. Like having one or both step-sisters be the one to help free Cinder from her abuse, playing the villain before becoming the fairy godmother. Up until she turns villain instead of hero, this is just Cinderella’s story copy and pasted into RWBY. It’s moments like this that should make us wary of using fairy tale allusions as evidence for our readings and theories. Whether RWBY is deconstructing or upholding a story varies wildly, and we never know what we’ll get until we actually see it on screen. Even then we can’t count on a choice remaining consistent, as we saw with Ironwood’s deconstruction being tossed out the window in Volume 7.

Cinder is originally just as meek as her fairy tale counterpart too. We don’t hear her speak until the owner is about to leave when she simply goes, “Food?” The sisters laugh at her and a roll is thrown to the floor with the comment that she should get busy because it “looks filthy.” I quite like that moment. Your job is to ensure the floors are clean enough to eat off of—literally.

We see a montage of Cinder doing just that, lots of chores, with a new song listing all the tasks she’s now responsible for. During this, Rhodes is seen in the background and witnesses when Cinder (presumably) first uses her semblance by heating up the brush and chucking it at the sisters, creating a massive cloud of steam.

It’s that moment which “earns” her a shock session with her necklace and I’m staring at the screen, a little open-mouthed. I mean, that’s the second child torture we’ve seen this volume (with Cinder being ten here). Again, I’m not making a specific accusation, just going, “Really?”

Also, note the anti-faunus sign. Nothing like continually showing us racist establishments rather than actually writing a story that deals with the racism needless put into the story world. I’d like to remind everyone of my previous comments this Volume about how the story works hard to paint Mantle as sympathetic, but refuses to show anything that does the same for Atlas citizens, people who are in just as much danger with Salem as an equalizer. A whole city is not actually made up of shallow racists, the show is just showing us only those people to create a simplistic “They’re all bad” reading that encourages us to reject Atlas and, by extension, Ironwood. Weiss is walking proof that Atlas citizens are both complex individuals and capable of bettering themselves. If we can come to adore the Schnee heiress, we should be questioning why nearly every other citizen is painted as an abuser, too wealthy to care, or has conveniently left the story (Rhodes dead, Klein gone, Whitley rejected, etc.).

As Cinder is being tortured, we see that she’s forced to say, “Without you, I am nothing.” Now see, this is excellent... in theory. This is the kind of line we needed to hear with some consistency over the last seven years (if RWBY still insisted on waiting that long for a backstory), setting up that this line is clearly engrained in Cinder and she repeats it on instinct. Instead—to my recollection, anyway—we only get it this Volume, in two episodes. If it appeared before then it wasn’t notable enough to remember. I commented on this before, but it wasn’t a, “Ah, this line must be important” reaction, it was a “Lol why is RWBY using the same line twice? That’s weird.” By only giving it to us twice before the backstory and in such a short timeframe, the impact of this reveal is lost. We’re only now realizing that the line is important, rather than coming to realize why.

Our writers know just enough to recognize what techniques work, but not enough to have figured out what makes them tick. They get that providing a RWBY-vised version of Cinderella is cool, but not how to adapt that 100% successfully. They know that repeated lines have power, but not how to create good setup for the reveal. They know the camera should use closeups, but not what moments are important enough to warrant that. RWBY, eight years on, still feels like a newbie writer copying what the great stories are doing without yet understanding why those aspects work and, thus, how to recreate them.

I mean, Cinder’s backstory appearing now attests to that most obviously. I waved at the Cinder fans before, but the reality is that most viewers don’t care, either because Cinder herself is so bland, and/or because the story waited too long to make her a little more interesting. This entire flashback was handled badly simply by virtue of it arriving over seven years past the character’s introduction.

So after this torture session Cinder steals Rhode’s sword. We hear some dialogue in the background of him getting pissed that it’s missing and the sisters promising to find it, implying that Cinder will have this tool at her disposal for a while. Instead, seconds later he’s found her hideout and confronts her. I don’t know if I’m impressed with Rhode’s skills, or rolling my eyes at how contrived this all is. Chuck in the question of whether Cinder was talented enough to steal the sword out from under him, or if Rhodes was stupid enough to leave it lying around, and I’m edging towards the eye rolling.

He dodges Cinder’s attack, rolls her more weapons to prove he’s not here to hurt her, and acknowledges that she’s not getting “the most fair treatment.” Okay, here’s where things start to get complicated. Rhodes tells Cinder she shouldn’t run away because then she’ll be running her whole life (don’t really agree with that). He likewise (rightly imo) tells her not to straight up murder them because look, no matter how much of a shit stain someone is, I can’t condone slamming a sword through their chest on an individual’s say-so (especially when two of those people are also kids growing up under an abuser, like Whitely). So what’s left? Rhodes says Cinder can train to become a huntress. At ten years old, she has seven years to prepare for the exam.

But she has to stay with her abusive family until then.

My problem is far less with the claim that this “has” to happen and far more with the writing’s failure to tell us why. Cinder could have begged to come with Rhodes and he says she can’t because… idk. Make up a reason. He doesn’t make enough to feed the both of them. It would be too dangerous out on missions without training and he doesn’t have a permanent place to stay (hence using the hotel all the time). He could even go the “They’re your legal guardians” route with more explanation because it’s arguable that Rhodes had no idea about the collar. Doesn’t mean Cinder’s treatment isn’t “that bad” in his eyes, just that he might not have known the extent and thus thought it was preferable for Cinder to put up with “just” being insulted and overworked until she’s 17. That this life that he only has a partial picture of is preferable to the life she’d have at his side. Something to explain the stakes here, the risks, and why he took this stance.

And/or give us a reason why Cinder doesn’t try to run, a suggestion I make very cautiously because it’s not my intention to put the responsibility solely on her. This isn’t meant to be a “Just save yourself! It’s easy!” claim. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that young, barely trained kids go out into the world all the time in this show—Ruby, Oscar—and it’s an acknowledgement that Cinder tugged off her collar easy-peasy. The point is, practically speaking, Cinder could have left and braved the streets like Emerald did… so give us a reason why she decided to stay. Maybe she’s scared of living on the streets, acknowledging that a little food and a place to sleep is better than nothing. Maybe she’s scared that if she doesn’t have a direct connection to the hotel (convenience), Rhodes won’t train her anymore. Maybe, as an abuse victim, she can’t articulate why she won’t leave, she just can’t. Something to acknowledge these gaps because, right now, we just have the fandom going, “See? This is why the huntsmen are all evil cops. Rhodes took the lawful route and look where it got Cinder! He’s the responsible adult in this situation, so it’s all his fault.” Problem is, this take ignores:

The fact that our heroes are also huntsmen and were pretending to be huntsmen before they had those lawful licenses. So what does that make them? We can’t continually criticize these professional roles without criticizing our heroes’ use of them as well. Ruby just ensured the world would take her message seriously by introducing herself as a huntress. We can’t condemn these laws and privileges while likewise letting Ruby continue to use them however she please. It’s okay if she’s a part of the system, because Ruby is inherently good! That’s not how this works. I’ve just described every American cop show that tumblr is currently turning against: The system is corrupt and needs to be overhauled, but our protagonists are different.

The story fails to tell us why Rhodes won’t do more outside of a single line about Cinder being of legal age. That just acknowledges that age has some bearing on his decision, not whether it outweighs other considerations (can Cinder survive if she leaves?), or whether Rhodes even has a full picture of what’s happening to her (the collar). The takeaway is that we don’t know what his though process was because RWBY didn’t show it to us, not that his thought process is automatically awful.

Rhodes, as a literal stranger entering her life, is not 100% responsible for what happens to Cinder. I know people don’t want to acknowledge that because leaving a child in that situation is absolutely horrific, but if RWBY wants to be ~realistic~ (and it does) then we need to acknowledge that reality too. If you saw a child employee getting yelled at in a hotel and then found her with your sword, would you rip the collar off her neck and be like, “Congratulations, you’re my child now”? Nice as that trope is, probably not! Or hell, maybe a lot of you would upend your life and risk legal action to whisk them away, but a lot of other people wouldn’t... and they're not the devil for doing what they can within the bounds of the law. The idea that because Rhodes unexpectedly had one (1) encounter with Cinder means he’s now responsible for her life and outcome is, well, crazy. “But, Clyde, you can’t just see that kind of horror and not do something about it.” You’re right. You know what you do? Tell the authorities. But does Remnant have the equivalent of social workers? We don’t know! Which means we can’t assume that Rhodes didn’t call them just because he’s a bad person. Or maybe they exist and the fandom considers them too corrupt to be useful, like so many other authorities in this show. So… what else is there for him to do? There doesn’t seem to be anyone above Rhodes that he can turn to, he doesn’t (for whatever reason) want to essentially kidnap Cinder and start a new life with her, so what’s left? Try to give Cinder a healthy relationship and a way to escape in the long run, which is precisely what Rhodes did.

Honestly, I’m kind of salty that this guy went out of his way to help her, he saw what everyone else saw and was the only one who would help her, but because he didn’t do more—because he didn’t entirely upend his life and/or risk arrest to take her away to this hypothetically better situation—the fandom is acting like it’s his fault Cinder killed her abusers. It’s not. Cinder made that choice.

At the end of the day, blaming Rhodes reveals the expectation that it’s his responsibility to solve this massive problem purely because he had the bad luck to be the one Cinder stole from. That’s like telling a teacher who learns about abuse from a paper that following the lawful channels and going out of his way to assist the child in other ways is responsible when the kid murders their family one day. “Why didn’t you just barge into the house and take the kid?!” Because there are a hundred reasons why that would go incredibly badly? Rhodes can’t help Cinder if he’s in jail. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if she ends up dead on a mission while following him. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if their attempt at escape fails and she bears the punishment.

The only thing I think Rhodes did absolutely wrong was giving Cinder the sword while she was still under the owner’s thumb. Stupid, but not cruel. And again, stupid does not equal blanket responsibility. I’m likewise seeing, “Rhodes gave her the sword and thus it’s his fault that Cinder got in trouble. It’s his fault they died. What was Cinder supposed to do, not defend herself?” Are people forgetting that Cinder stole the sword herself in the beginning and then readily accepted it again? She had agency in obtaining weaponry and what she wanted it for. Are people forgetting that, in accepting it, she likewise accepted the risk of keeping it hidden in the hotel? Are people forgetting that the time skip shows this happening years later and that Rhodes clearly thought Cinder was past her murderous streak? Are people forgetting that Cinder killed the owner by snapping her neck and resisting the shock collar, no sword required? She could have killed them any time she pleased based on the crime scene, whether Rhodes had given her a weapon or not. The weapon was just the catalyst that, truthfully, could have been caused by anything else. Cinder snaps when they find the sword and she’s tortured. Cinder snaps when she drops another tray and she’s tortured. She had planned to kill her abusers and never completely let go of that.

Honestly, I’m just annoyed that we have another good hearted, takes action, does his best and makes some mistakes character getting blamed for everything another character chose to do, erasing their agency in the process. Rhodes did not abuse Cinder. Rhodes did not force her to kill her actual abusers. And Rhodes is certainly not responsible for what Cinder later becomes. Could Rhodes have done more? Of course, but every character could always do more.

The tl;dr is that this complex situation needed far better setup in the show and the fandom needs to stop using that lack of setup as “proof” that characters are horrible people when they fail to magically fix said complicated, badly explained problems. Cinder chose to murder three people. Whether that was justified in the face of her abuse is up to you to decide, but it was still her choice. Please stop blaming the adult male characters for the choices the teenage girls in this show make. RWBY is too convoluted and attempting to tackle too many complex issues to reduce that to, “Every man here is the evil, responsible party and ever girl is a #queen. Even when they go on to murder Pyrrha ^_^” As a woman who would very much like to be rooting for the mostly-woman cast more than I now do, this isn’t the feminist take people want it to be.

But I’ve jumped waaaay ahead. Let’s backtrack a bit.

That first interaction between Rhodes and Cinder is super weird because the camera keeps covering Rhodes’ face and I don’t know why.

We segue into that montage of him training her for presumably years (Cinder’s hair changes) until we see him giving her the sword in what’s meant to be a moment of pride and trust. Soon after, Rhodes (randomly) comes back to the hotel when everyone else is asleep and hears noises in the back. Moving to check them out, he discovers that Cinder has murdered the two sisters and is in the process of murdering the owner, throwing back the line, “Without you, I am nothing, but because of you, I am everything.” Again, much more impactful if this had been a line we’ve associated with Cinder for years now, not a couple of episodes.

After she breaks the owner’s neck (damn, strong hand!) she tells Rhodes she doesn’t have to run anymore. Cinder clearly expects him to be happy for her and is shocked when he takes out his weapons.

I’m sorry, this is not a “betrayal.” Could Rhodes have just let Cinder go? Sure. Should he have? Given what she becomes, that’s very debatable! Rhodes clearly thought he’d helped her grow into someone who was not inclined towards murder (giving her the sword) and thus is probably going to be a little rattled when he walks in to find her killing three people. Again, there are obvious differences given the level of abuse Cinder seems to have suffered in comparison, but imagine that Glynda, after teaching Weiss for years, walked in on her killing Jacques and Whitley in revenge. Is she supposed to just ignore that? Shrug her shoulders and wish her well? I know a lot of people consider that the “fair” outcome given the inclusion of abuse, but that’s because we’ve had an omniscient view of Cinder’s history and insight into her emotional state. Rhodes doesn’t have that. All he has is his oath as a huntsmen to prevent things like, you know, murder sprees. I’m not going to delve into the overall ethics of a judicial system, either in RWBY or the real world, and thus I’m not going to make any naive claims about it being fair—it’s fucking not—but I don’t think the answer to these systematic problems is, “Why wouldn’t you just let the teenager murder three bad people and then go on her way? She totally deserved it!” Rhodes is not in a position to decide that, which is the entire point of having a judicial system in the first place.

So Rhodes wants to bring Cinder in. Kind of like how Clover wanted to bring Qrow in once he had an arrest warrant. I can’t emphasize enough that wanting to start a legal process rather than letting clearly guilty/potentially guilty people go because they WANT to is not a “betrayal.” Regardless of what teen dramas may have taught us, you don’t have to potentially throw your own freedom and your morals away because you found out a friend is wanted by the authorities. Or you walk in on them currently snapping someone’s neck. There are options other than, “Believe your friend is right without question and help them hide the bodies” (looking at you, Maria, Pietro). Whitely is not insane for going, “Hey, can you not make me an accomplice to a crime by forcing your way in here with a bunch of fugitives?” I’m constantly surprised by the number of fans who can, in one breath, condemn characters for not throwing a middle finger up at the law and in the next praise Jacques’ arrest. Do we want to benefit from this system or not? If yes, that means you have to weigh which laws can be broken (such as in a protest), which should be obeyed (bring murderers and wanted men in), all while working to change the laws that are prejudice and aren’t working.

Anyway, they fight. It’s short and sweet, backdropped by the large clock striking midnight, hence our title. I’m incredibly suspicious of Cinder breaking Rhode’s aura first, given that she’s still the student in training, but here we can more persuasively say he wasn’t fighting seriously, given that he then stupidly rushes towards her without a weapon. Still, that would be the second time now that RWBY has relied on elite fighters “holding back” to explain how the kids in training beat them, the first instance, of course, being with the Ace Ops.

Rhodes does rush Cinder though when she hits the wall and breaks her own aura, clearly concerned. She uses the moment to stab him with both swords. He uses his last breaths to put a hand on her head, conveying that he doesn’t blame her for how this all turned out.

Then Cinder pulls off her collar with a single snap and looks up at the broken moon, crying her single tear.

I’m dragging the flashback for multiple reasons, but I want to emphasize that I think this episode is leagues better from what we got last week. Absolute night and day. It’s just that, as always, improvements are incredibly comparative in RWBY. It’s not really good for numerous reasons… it’s just better than what we’ve gotten before. It’s “great” provided you go in with standards buried in the ground.

We then return to the present as Cinder wakes up in Salem’s whale. This scene gives us a great shot of her grimm arm, so cosplayers take note!

Emerald arrives soon after and immediately rushes to her side, expressing how worried she was. She grabs Cinder’s grimm hand without hesitation. Honestly, I don’t care much about either character… but this single frame activated some sort of ship button in my brain.

Not fully because I’m personally not drawn to toxic relationships in fiction (which, as I’m about to explain, would absolutely be the case here), but just the tinniest bit. Because I’m a sucker for monstrous people being loved despite their monstrous nature, so having Emerald take that hand over the other is like a ship speed run for me.

I’m predictable, folks.

But we need to talk about less happy things for a moment. I mentioned above Cinder becoming an abuser herself. I hope I don’t need to lay out the laundry list of murders, attempted murders, sabotage, and general taking-over-the-world-ness she’s engaged in since Episode One. Don’t let a sad backstory erase all that. Hell, for all we know the hotel owner had a horrific backstory too! Doesn’t justify how she treated Cinder. The point though is beyond her clear status as a villain, we now know that Cinder treats Emerald just like the owner once treated her.

Cinder was “rescued” from her life on the farm by the owner. Emerald is “rescued” from her life on the streets by Cinder.

Both realize over time that the situation they’re now in is actually worse.

Both reiterate that they “owe” the other “everything,” with Cinder having that shocked into her and Emerald seeming to willingly believe it.

The owner treats Cinder as a slave. Cinder treats Emerald as a slave. “Both of you, get out. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.” The only difference is that Cinder’s orders were things like “Scrub floors” and Emerald’s are “Convince an audience this girl attacked our ally.”

Both use threats to keep the other in line: the owner with her shock collar and Cinder with her Maiden powers. Cinder doesn’t need to resort to violence (yet) because Emerald adores her, but the threat is always there.

There are even visual similarities this episode, such as kneeling and gem necklaces, though I acknowledge fully that those are just interesting details as opposed to anything like persuasive proof.

The point is that Cinder became exactly what she hated, she just turned the dial up to eleven by going after the whole world instead of a single child. “But Cinder never had a chance to be anything else.” Sure she did. Blake and Weiss are proof of that. Even if we believe that Cinder was doomed to be a villain due to the extent of her abuse, what does that say about the hotel’s owner? We don’t know anything about her history, so what if she was abused too? Does that mean she was always “doomed” to treat Cinder that way? Does that excuse everything she did to her because she supposedly never stood a chance of becoming anything else? Of course not.

Though very iffily done, this is a commentary on the cycle of abuse. Each case is horrific, but it doesn’t excuse what comes later. Every abuser was once an innocent child and every innocent child has the capability of becoming the next abuser. Cinder’s life up until now was beyond awful and yes, she lacked a lot of privileges that others had to help them head down a better path, like Weiss’ wealth. On the other hand, she lacks other difficulties that would make that path harder for others, like Blake’s status as a faunus. Everyone has a choice to make: Will you treat others the way you were treated because that’s “fair,” or will you decide to treat others better than what you were dealt? There are lots of aspects that factor into the likelihood of someone choosing the latter—which is why I really like Rhode’s hand on Cinder’s head, acknowledging his understanding that she’s an abused kid taking the only path she thinks is available to her—but individual agency is by no means removed from the equation. Cinder escaped her situation and decided she’d never be powerless again. What does that mean to her, perhaps becoming a community member who works to prevent abuse like the kind she suffered? No, it means grinding the entire world under her heel until she’s the only one with power left.

This GIF continues to be the only one I need.

(No, the fact that it comes from a cop show and I’m using it for such an anti-law, anti-establishment story/fandom isn’t lost on me.)

(Also, if anyone is curious, this is why I love Ozpin. Out of everyone in this cast, HE has suffered the most, tenfold, and yet he still chooses to be kinder to those than they’ve been to him.)

Anyway, I should really stick to the plot lol. Cinder realizes that her waking up means that they’ve lost, which I still think is BS. Cinder needed a win to come across as a formidable villain again and the likes of Neo, Emerald, and a Maiden with years of practice under her belt should have wiped the floor with a scientist, retirement grandma, and a girl who got the powers an hour ago. But I again digress.

Mercury reveals that he will no longer be following Cinder’s orders because Salem has a special job for him. They’ve all been told to meet on the bridge.

Then we cut to Ozpin and Oscar.

My poor boy is a mess and Ozpin is in the process of begging Oscar to take a “break.” “I would like to express again that this is my burden to bear, not yours.” Take note, fandom. In a few moments Hazel will accuse Ozpin of being a “coward” because “All this time, it could have been you, but you let him suffer.” I just know a bunch of people will be going, “Yeah! Ozpin just let a kid get tortured instead of him. WTF??” Okay 1. We should always be suspicious of agreeing with the takes villains have and 2. Oscar just refused to let Ozpin do that. It is—again—his choice because he thinks that Hazel is “holding back” with him. Oscar is being a brave and logical dude trying to make the best of this situation for both of them. Don’t take that away from him just to make Ozpin look bad. What would we even want him to do? Take control back? The fandom has been yelling at Ozpin for that since Volume 5.

So they’re going back and forth when Oscar suddenly announces that they “can’t leave yet. This is our chance.”

Ozpin even says he thinks Oscar must have taken one too many hits because… yeah. What? Long story short, Oscar recognizes that they’ll never be this close to Salem’s subordinates again and that they should try to undermine her from the inside out, just like she’s done with the world since she knows she can’t take on everyone at once. I love Oscar taking charge here, I love them speaking in unison, I even love the hope of achieving something epic while in captivity despite my own belief that Oscar should break and reveal the Lamp’s password. What I don’t love is:

Another messy, unexpected belief that Salem made her choices because she “knows” she can’t win any other way. Except that—like Ruby’s line in the recording—Salem’s current attack blows that idea out of the water. She IS taking on the whole world. Granted, Ozpin and Oscar presumably don’t know that the whole world literally knows of her existence now, or that Salem was smiling about it, but they do know that she’s attacking Atlas head on. What else is that except a declaration of war with all of Remnant?

The idea of undermining Salem from the inside via Hazel. For anyone who reads my other metas, I just said that this idea wouldn’t work because Emerald isn’t the one torturing him, the one character who has consistently demonstrated hesitation (or, now, Neo). Hazel despises Ozpin so much that he would never listen to him. He despises him so much he doesn’t even see Oscar as his own person… at least he didn’t before. That’s been retconned now with Hazel going “easy” Oscar and having an actual conversation with Ozpin. Whereas before, he was slamming Oscar into walls and screaming about how he’s going to kill the “murderer” of his sister. They basically softened his character to make this plan possible.

The fact that this scene came about without Oscar and Ozpin ever getting to reconcile their problems. Last we saw them, Oscar was saying how he hated that Ozpin came back and refusing to acknowledge their merge. Now, they’re working together like they’ve always been solid allies. I get that the danger they’re in helps to put it all into perspective, but why can’t we get a few lines of them hashing this out? Or at least putting things aside until they’re out of Salem’s clutches? If you don’t need to re-write Hazel’s character with “he’s going easy on me” lines, you can use that space to deal with the conflict we’ve already established. Especially given the strange choice to have Oscar refuse to give up control and be the one coming up with this plan... but then Ozpin does take control and (maybe, see below) enacts it? I feel like we’ve missed huge chunks of this story. As it is, I wonder if RWBY will bother coming back to this. The questions of if/how Oscar will accept Ozpin and if/how he’ll reveal this secret to the group feels like they’re being swept under the rug and it will likely go unnoticed by a lot of viewers simply due to how intense the kidnapping plot is.

So things are a little messy, but otherwise enjoyable, and they’re about to get downright confusing. For me, anyway. See, Hazel reveals that he follows Salem because she can’t be beaten (cue my continued worry about Ruby telling the whole WORLD). She “can’t be stopped. She’s a force of nature,” and Ozpin is fighting a “cause with no victory, no end.” He yells back that “Someone has to try!”—bless this man—and then looks down at the ground going, “Salem can be fought. Unless… she brings the Relics together, if that happens…” and mentions summoning the Gods.

So here’s my confusion. The scene makes it feel like Ozpin is planting some sort of seed in Hazel’s head. He and Oscar JUST got done agreeing to try and undermine her from the inside out, then we get this line that feels like him “accidentally” dropping a secret that will turn Hazel against her. Except… Ozpin doesn’t lie here? The line isn’t useful to them as far as I can tell. They are screwed if Salem gets the Relics. …Right? Because if not, why the hell have the heroes been working so hard to keep them out of her hands? So I can’t decide if:

A) This scene is just written badly and none of this is part of the plan to undermine Salem.

B) Ozpin is going, “NO. Don’t collect the RELICS. That would be the WORST THING EVER /s” in an attempt to trick Hazel into doing it anyway and this is somehow supposed to hurt Salem, despite being presented since Volume 5 as the worst outcome for our heroes?

C) Ozpin specifically wants Salem to make the mistake of summoning the Gods because he thinks he’s completed his task? Or something? But what in the world would make him think that—especially without seeing Ruby’s message (not to mention the lack of unity that mess should cause)—or what makes him think the Gods would just destroy Salem regardless of what he’s achieved? If summoning the Gods was ever a defeat Salem option, why hasn’t he done it before?

I’m leaning towards A just because it makes the most sense by far, but that would also mean we had Ozpin and Oscar decide on this plan, have a chance to start this plan… and then didn’t actually do anything. Yelling at Hazel for following Salem isn’t a new strategy, they were doing that before, so what’s new? Or has the new strategy not been revealed yet? Idk, as happy as I am to see them being BAMF together, I’m slightly unsure about how it all hangs together. I’d much rather have an internally consistent and clear outcome that’s predictable (Oscar breaks or just holds out until rescue) rather than what appears like a super cool, badass, unexpected plot on the surface… but crumbles once you poke at the foundation a bit.

So whether Oscar and Ozpin started this plan or not, they’re dragged into the throne room where they’re forced to kneel before Salem. Yikes. She sits on her throne with the Hound, who I’m only now realizing could be read as a messed up Toto

We learn that Tyrian heard from Watts about his incarceration and hacking Penny. What? Okay, I took the time to go back through “Amity” just to find this screenshot.

That’s not a working Scroll! Idk what I thought Watts might do with it at the end of last week, but it wasn’t send a full, uninterrupted message to Salem that updates her on everything that’s gone down in Atlas. This thing is toast! Moments like this make me question how much communication there really is between the writers and the animators, despite last Volume’s disaster with Oscar telegraphing his punch like whoa. Are we still getting that level of miscommunication?

Salem then punishes Cinder for disobeying her by hurting her grimm arm. See, this here (for me, anyway) is the mark of a newbie writer. When the moment first started I went, “Oh nice. Just like the shock collar!” Then the scene made that abundantly clear by cutting to flashbacks of Cinder in her collar. That’s too heavy-handed. We already got the parallel, but then the show went, “Do you get it??” It shows that the writers are too scared that the viewers won’t get it, that their nuance will be lost, so they scramble to make it as obvious as possible, rather than trusting in their own writing.

And if you’re like, “So you want RWBY to be more clear and also… less clear?” the answer is, sadly, yes lol. The things that are already confusing due to retconning and inconsistent themes need to be made explicit, whereas the details that are already strong don’t need an in-your-face, “Okay, but did you really get the parallel here? We’re just making sure.” It’s like launching into explaining why a joke is funny when it’s already landed vs. telling a nonsensical joke and then waiting for the laugh that will never come. RWBY struggles in both areas.

Salem delves into this speech about how this is actually all her fault and she should let Cinder spread her wings or something. AKA, go free Watts and track down Penny. Then you can have your precious Maiden powers.

There’s a massive earthquake across Mantle and we watch a + medical symbol go out. Again, heavy-handed. We don’t need that in order to understand that the whole city shaking while the grimm look happily up to the sky is a bad thing.

We cut to Winter listening to the Ace Ops complain about Penny. She tells them to act like the elite they are, likely because she hates how they refer to Penny as “junk.” Still being set up to betray Ironwood, I bet. During this scene we learn that they have “confirmed visual of her leaving Amity. She appeared to be malfunctioning.” So Penny is alive? Also, they have eyes on Amity Tower and were able to see Penny leaving, but didn’t see any of our trio coming to launch it in the first place? Did Ironwood want it to launch? Did they see Cinder? I just don’t know.

Before they can get there though a message from Jaune comes through. Serious kudos to Team JNY for asking that “anyone” respond/taking the personal risk of calling for help in the first place. They’re finally putting—as Harriet says—they’re own selfishness aside in favor of the greater good. Yang obviously hates that it’s “you guys” they ended up with, but she’s not outright attacking the Ace Ops or anything. I’m like,

Excellent job, Yang.

Jaune is a little harsh in his panic. He said in his message that a “large mass of grimm” is heading towards Mantle and then when Harriet leads with asking about Penny, wants to know what’s wrong with her. Why are you asking about Penny when lives are in danger and “it’s” (the grimm) are “right there”? Except he, uh… points at nothing. There’s the chasm with (I presume) the weird grimm goo down it? Not sure based on the shot, but the Ace Ops expected a “mass of grimm” and then land to see no grimm anywhere nearby. So yeah, they’re more focused on the missing Maiden than the seemingly imaginary enemy Jaune is freaking out about.

They only get on board when the river launches itself at Atlas.

So the goo is, like, sentient before it becomes individual grimm? Or Salem is controlling it from her whale? Either way it’s BAD.

I want to briefly gripe about how the hell everyone is watching this. What, is there a camera conveniently trained on this one random part of Atlas’ underside and everyone’s scrolls tuned into that the second the attack started? It seems far-fetched, to put it mildly. In RWBY’s favor though, I want to acknowledge that we finally have appropriate expressions for the situation! This is good!!

I’m going to level with you all. My notifications have known no peace since I made the mistake of criticizing the adored trio that is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. I thought supporting Ironwood would get me heat. Nope. Not supporting the main girls is what did it and honestly? I shouldn’t have been surprised. Last week I pointed out that having them smile and, in Ruby’s case, coo during a moment of horror is not good animation and implies some pretty uncomfortable things about their overall sympathy level. The image in question:

It doesn’t set a good tone, especially when we add in what we’ve gotten for Ruby’s group across the rest of this volume. The counters of, “They need and deserve a break. Why won’t you let them be happy?” fall flat when we ignore that this group has been animated as consistently goofing off post-premiere. Sneaking into the guarded military base of a former friend? Tube shenanigans! Need to find your way around? Funny Penny moment! Semblance reveal? Cutesy chibi explanation! Need to do more sneaking? Silly coffee plan! Nora gets electrocuted? Joke about how awesome that was! Even Wiess telling Whitley to go to his room reads as funny to the audience.

Ruby in particular has been a problem, given that she’s our main character and the others’ leader. We take our emotional cues primarily from her. Alongside being a part of all these fun and games, her animation during more serious moments has been less than stellar. This is Penny when Nora goes down.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just focused on the fight.

This is Penny when the fight is over.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just chatting about suspicious activity.

This is Penny in the airship, worrying about Nora and the situation they’re in. This is also Ruby in the airship, apparently not worried at all.

This is Ruby when she learns her uncle is in jail. Is there shock? Fear? Horror that he might be in serious trouble? No, she just maintains the same emotion she had before: fury at Harriet.

So when we reach them watching the recording and they look like this:

No, I’m not convinced that this trio is taking the situation seriously, or that they really care about the people involved. I know they’re supposed to care, they all obviously care from a meta perspective, but the “obviousness” of that only exists in our personal understanding of the characters if we don’t see it on screen. I completely believe that Penny is worried about Nora because she’s animated expressing that worry. I completely believe that JRY are in the middle of a warzone because they’re (mostly) animated as fearful and angry. The rest of Ruby’s team has a scared line from Blake and Weiss holding Nora’s hand, whereas the majority of the emotion across this adventure has been indifference or playfulness. That’s a problem given how horrible the events of this Volume have been, most of which the group is aware of.

All of which is an incredibly long-winded way of saying that this

finally feels appropriate. Well done, RWBY.

Alright, this recap is already over 7k long so I want to return to our plot with the summarized: IRONWOOD WAS RIGHT. He said they couldn’t withstand a head on attack by Salem and he was right. It literally took seconds for her grimm to burrow into Atlas, knock out a tower, and disable the shield. Everyone still claiming that leaving is useless because it’s oh so obvious Salem’s grimm could fly however high it wants (when did we learn that?) are ignoring that leaving was at least a plan with some kind of hope attached to it. And, given her focus on the Staff, may have saved Mantle by drawing Salem’s attention away from the city. The point is we don’t know. All we do know is that Ironwood tried to do something in the face of hopeless odds, Ruby’s team stopped him, and now look, everything is awful. No one could have possibly seen that coming.

Salem: “It’s time.”

I’m very pleased that Salem is finally using the tools at her disposal. Upon reflection, I still don’t buy why she had to wait. “Well, she was waiting for the grimm goo.” She couldn’t have used flying grimm to take out the tower? Take a burrowing grimm and give it wings? She couldn’t have used the goo that was apparently inside her whale the whole time?

It’s all very convenient. In the sense that we’re drawing out the volume by having the villain inexplicably hang back, despite not having a good reason to. In the sense that—unless Ruby’s message comes back to bite her—the villain’s passivity also conveniently let the heroes accomplish the one goal they were desperate to achieve. All of that’s still not good, but at least the Volume seems to be moving out of the “not good” category and into the “slightly better” territory.

Although, as I just acknowledged to a friend, RWBY seems to alternate for me. Every time I have an episode where I think, “Okay, there are still massive problems here, but I can see a glimmer of hope” the next episode is inevitably the pits.

Still, grabbing onto that hope with both hands: Atlas should be decimated, folks! Grimm are swarming, our idiot heroes herded everyone directly under the city, the world should be panicking, and the cold should still be killing people if the story remembers that it exists. At this point my only question is wtf our heroes are supposed to do next, but regardless of what the plot gives us, it’s going to be wild. You all know what’s coming. Next week is our final episode before a two month hiatus, which means we’re going to witness all kinds of awful and then end on a six week cliffhanger. It’s inevitable, so best to emotionally prep for that now lol.

I don’t believe we have any Bingo updates, with the exception of edging towards a few: “Winter betrays Ironwood,” “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians,” “Atlas somehow survives,” and “Ironwood dies” being the most notable. We’ll have to see what, if anything, gets checked off next Saturday.

As always, thank you so much for reading (I feel like I don’t say that enough :D) and I’ll see you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

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

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Poisoned.”

Got this idea from a comment or ask someone made. hope this iw what they had in mind :)

Another galactic summit, more issues to deal with, and more problems to discuss, not the largest being the Burg war, and the attack on earth. Though it had been thwarted by the planet’s natural hellish landscape, there were still discussions to be made about whether the Rundi and the Vrul would help to provide a defense Nexus to the remaining planets. As well as disaster relief on the gromm home world.

The rundi home world at the GA summit chambers were, once again, rife with alien lifeforms. It was also, once again, rife with Rundi underlings who were trying very hard not to freak out with all the duties that were being placed on their backs.

At least one thing was made clear, there was no pint in getting human food for the summit, since the human delegates always insisted on trying all the other alien food. Leave enough of the nectar orbs from the Drev home world out, and that seemed to keep the humans happy enough.

Dr. Krill accompanied the Commander into the summit as was usual. Sunny was not with them today, seeing as she had work to do back aboard the ship

That left just the two of them.

Felt almost like old times.

The captain was dressed up in his fancy UNSC uniform, and as such, he was obligated to behave.

Apparently behaving didn’t mean avoiding arguments with his most important doctor, who --despite being a complete genius-- was hardly capable of getting the captain to agree with him.

“I just think that there should be better security at these things. All of the most important people in the galaxy are here.”

“Krill, there is an entire armada outside, I hardly think we need to worry about being attacked by the burg. Besides, their attack on earth completely broke their spirits. There is no way they would try getting in here.”

Krill crossed both sets of arms, “I disagree, Commander. I have been looking into human history of warfare, and I Think that a spy could easily-”

“Krill calm down will you. Besides, species rely on the fact that you can disguise yourself to look like the other side. The Burg are so fugly that they'd be noticed in half an instant.

They came around the corner, and the Commander was nearly knocked onto his back as an Iotin brushed past hurrying from the banquet hall.

The Commander tripped back into a wall, “Woah watch….yourself.” The Iotin disappeared around the next corner, and the Commander looked after him with a frown, “Didn’t know those guys could move that fast. Wonder why he could be in such a hurry.”

Krill waved it off as the Commander poked his head into the banquet room, “Oh look, pink orbs!”

“Commander, don’t you think we should wait until after the summit, when the food is being served.”

The man waved a hand, “Oh no one will notice one missing.”

He quickly snuck into the room and Krill rolled his eyes as the man came out munching on one of the pink fruits.

“And they made you leader of the fleet.”

“Technically they are thinking of making me leader of the entire Galactic armada, but I digress.”

“Lord help us all.”

The captain made a face.

“What it’s true.”

The man shook his head, “No, not you, this fruit tastes…. Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird.”

He shrugged and took another bite, “Not bad enough for me to stop eating it, so good weird I guess.”

He stuffed the rest of the orb into his mouth and licked the juices off his fingers.

Krill sighed, “I still can’t believe they would choose you.”

“Better believe it.”

The two of them walked into the main conference chamber to sit down with the other delegates. The human delegation was near the top tier, and so that is where they went, taking a seat just to the right of the Rundi chairwoman’s box.

The entire room was alive with the sound of alien life.

Commander Vir leaned over to speak with one of the delegates and krill was left to watch the room. Most of the delegations were here, though the iotin delegation had arrived late. Seemed strange considering he had seen one of their number not long ago.

The light dimmed a couple of times, and the chairwoman took her pedestal and began to greet the delegates. Krill looked on politely as was his want though he wasn’t entirely interested in the whole thing.

The charwoman could be rather long-winded when she got going.

He sat there through a good few minutes of it glancing over at the other human delegates on occasion. Vir looked almost sleepy, though that was almost to be expected, he was never very good at politics, even though he was involved in them so much.

He turned back to the delegation.

The commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat during a discussion about intergalactic trade laws, and Krill looked over again.

The man had taken to licking his lips repeatedly.

“Are you ok?” Krill muttered.

“Yeah fine, just thirsty.” He muttered

Krill let it go through something made him turn back not to long after. The human was rubbing at his mouth, which appeared red, though he supposed that was supposed to be expected. Little lines of sweat were trickling down from his hairline.

He scooted a bit closer.

“Commander, are you feeling alright.”

He was waved off, “yeah, I’m ok, it just got a little hot in here as all…. Feeling kind of…. Faint. Maybe a little nauseous. I am sure I’ll be fine. Probably just need something to eat.”

The talks continued, but Krill wasn’t focused on them anymore. The commander was not looking very good. He was sweating enough that the collar of his dress shirt was almost soaked. The tint of his face had gone from healthy blush to a yellow parlor. He looked as if he was about to pass out. A few of the other human delegates had stared to notice.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, “Commander are you feeling alright.”

“I…. I think I…. Just need to…. Walk around.”

His voice was slurred.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea commander?” Krill said turning his head to face him.

His pupils were unusually wide despite the dark space around them.

“The human was breathing hard now, one hand over his chest. His dry mouth from earlier had gone, replaced by saliva production so excessive he was having to clear his mouth every couple of seconds.

He looked at Krill, and the expression on his face was enough.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The other delegates had leaned over sensing the commotion, and they stood to let Krill and the commander pass as he stood and wobbled his way towards the stairs.

Krill could sense something was wrong almost immediately.

Dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea.

“Someone, help him walk.” Krill ordered not caring about the delegation anymore.

Their sudden movement had caused a bit of commotion on one side of the room. The commander paused on the stairwell, and instead of turning towards the exit, he turned towards the delegation floor. Krill tried to grab him, tried to stop him, but the human -- even in his weakened state -- was still too strong.

A muttering had grown up around the crowd as he staggered onto the floor.

The chairwoman stopped speaking looking on in confusion, “Commander, are you alright.”

The human paused at the center of the floor.

IN the main lighting he looked absolutely horrific. He was so pale his skin was almost yellow. The skin around his mouth was red. Sweat drenched the side of his face. He was drooling so badly that it was, at this point, impossible to control.

“The...food…. Has been poisoned.” He choked out through heaving breaths.

And then he collapsed to his knees vomiting violently on the white marble floor.

The entire delegation stood shock and uproar filling the room. Krill ran over to help the human whose arms and hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

The sight was horrifying. Saliva dripped in strings from his mouth. His clothing and hands were stained pink from the orb fruit from earlier.

Krill remembered he said it tasted weird.

Could he really have been poisoned.

A couple other human delegates vaulted over the railings and onto the floor grabbing the man by the arms as his strength began to fail him. His body was shaking violently now.

Krill practically scream ordered one of the assistance to grab a medical kit.

The entire room was in an uproar.

Krill jammed his finger at the Iotin representatives, “Don’t let them leave!”

The Iotins stood in shock as the delegation turned on them. The Drev delegation, weaponless, still managed to make a circle around the group, “Someone, go grab the food, and get me a sample!”

The commander had been rolled onto his side. His body continued to reject whatever toxin it had been given, though Krill desperately tried to avoid him aspirating and choking. That only got harder once the man began to cease and convulse. He had to reduce the absorption, but he also needed to keep the man from throwing it back up.

His kit was open on the floor, and he had the others help him With the tubes and medication. Adam wouldn’t be helping him now, so he would have to get directly to the stomach himself.

He had one of the other humans hold him as he inserted the tube and began with the activated charcoal. Hopefully that would be enough before they got test results back. One of the Rundi came sprinting into the room holding one of the pink orbs handing it over to one of Krill’s assistants who was ordered to test the fruit with one of the testing strips.

They did as told and the entire group waited for the results.

When the strip turned blue, krill knew what it was.

It was at least similar to some toxins he had seen before and attacked the central nervous system in humans through absorption in the gut. The dosage had been too high however, and while the human could potentially choke to death, much of the toxin had already been rejected by the body.

“Someone cut open his sleeve.”

The uniform was ignored as the sleeve was cut open and Krill placed an IV reaching into his kit for the antitoxin.

“You…. Just have that lying around?” one of the other humans asked.

Krill nodded, “I work with humans. I expect them to ingest stupid things that could kill them on a regular basis.”

He was calm on the outside like a doctor should be, but on the inside he was panicking horribly. The commander was not looking good.

But he placed the IV and made the injection.

“Someone test the other food. I want to know if this was planned for just the humans or for the entire delegation.

His orders were quickly followed, and they found the toxin in almost every dish that had been in the banquet hall.

“You should be glad it was the human who took it first.” Krill was saying

“Why is that?” The chairwoman asked

“Because, the human body is the only one that would have noticed the poisoning before it was too late. The human brain responds to toxins that affect the central nervous system with dizziness and nausea. For any other species, you would have been dead before the symptoms kicked in.” On the floor the human convulsions had stopped. His heart rate was depressed now, but krill was keeping an eye on it.

The Iotins were still looking around in panic as the Drev glowered at them.

“What is the meaning of this.” Their leader called.

Krill turned on them anger in every line of his body, “We saw one of you leaving the room before we entered, and they were in a hurry. So forgive me if I am a little suspicious.”

More uproar, but the Drev kept the delegates in check.

‘Come on, Commander.” rill muttered

If he was going to wake up, it would be in the next few minutes if only for a little bit.

One of the other humans had ripped open his uniform jacket removing his tie and pulling the coat off discarded to the side. Krill was more than grateful for their help. Even more pleased when the commander opened his eyes bleary, his pupils almost back to normal.

“What… happened.” He slurred

“Congratulations, sir, you saved the entire delegation from death by poisoning. You’re a hero.”

He groaned, ��I don’t feel like one.” he leaned his head back onto the floor, “Catch the bastards who did this for me will you.” He licked his lips, “I’m gonna pass out again.”

And he did as promised.

Once again the human body had managed to save the day.

Because as it turns out humans are actually a lot harder to poison that one might first assume. Give them to high of a dose, and they will throw it up, give them too low of a dose and it won’t kill them. Plus the human body is very good at letting everyone know when something is wrong.

It is especially difficult to poison a human when their best friend is an experienced doctor.

Whoever had done this, had not succeeded in their end goal.

And they wouldn't likely be free for long.

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dragonstoravens · 3 years

Text

Babylon Vol. 1: Pandora’s Box, Brotherly Interlude

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(We’re back!!! And OH BOY HERE WE GO!!!! We’re only a few chapters from posting all of book 1 now, just two more updates after this one. I hope you enjoy this ~romantically spicy~ update!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

19. Pandora’s Box

Something felt off.

It wasn’t the same sort of off that came with glowering at entitled individuals to get them to give Trinity some space or the kind that came with feeling like she was in danger. No, it wasn’t unpleasant like that. It was a gentle, floaty sort of feeling, something sort of like fondness that she just couldn’t put her finger on because she wasn’t quite sure she’d felt it before. Azure looked up at her friend, that feeling in the back of her mind trying to present itself but lacking the vocabulary and clarity to make any headway. He was talking to her, saying something in that soft voice he used when he didn’t want anyone else to hear them or he was trying to reassure her that she had no need to be nervous. It was such a soothing tone, she realized with a small start, that she hadn’t even been paying attention to what he was actually saying. Her cheeks flared red and she coughed a little, looking guilty.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that. The music’s a little loud, what did you say?”

“I said, dinner’s over. Care for a dance?”

Trinity was standing next to her, his hand out in offering. He was always so polite, even after months of… whatever this was, asking before each dance as if she was going to say no and sit in awkward silence while the other couples swirled around them. It was like some sappy romance novel she’d devoured growing up-- the handsome prince asking “may I have this dance,” taking the princess’ arm, pulling out her chair for her… and she had to admit Trinity looked the part, in his perfectly tailored waistcoat. For some reason, Crim had gone strangely old-fashioned for tonight’s style-- Trinity even looked a bit like the illustrations in those old books, with his long coat and silver embroidery and hair shining a soft gold in the false candlelight dancing from wall sconces scattered about the hall. He smiled at her, hand still outstretched, something oddly… hopeful, in his expression. Or was she imagining it? She’d never turned down a dance with him before, there was really nothing to hope for.

“Right, of course. I’d love to.” She smiled up at him, crooked and even a little bashful, and set her work-toughened hand in his larger, softer one. He helped her up out of her seat and she tried to keep her internal voice down as she quelled whatever this feeling was in her stomach that had begun the moment their hands touched. She stepped carefully with him out to the dance floor, goosebumps covering her skin as he placed his hand on her waist. Something strange was happening, and it was really weirding her out. Maybe the food was bad? That was doubtful, someone’s head would be on a pike if any of the people at this event even thought for a minute the food wasn’t made properly. That took out drinking too, because she hadn’t had anything that wasn’t water today due to some maintenance she had coming up soon. The mystery deepened, layers of what it couldn’t be peeling away.

She’d been staring at his jawline for a full thirty seconds now, and she had been flushed red nearly the last forty-five minutes they’d been here. She was beginning to look feverish. As they began the lazy, spinning journey across the ballroom they’d taken so many times before, he leaned towards her, his lips centimeters from the curve of her ear. His breath was warm, ghosting across her cheek as he whispered.

“You alright?”

She shivered and nearly stopped breathing, her head a jumbled mess and eyes wide. Was she alright? She had no idea. She wasn’t dying, so she was probably alright. Her head bobbed up and down and she looked in his eyes, deep and green and pretty. Trinity’s eyes had always been pretty, she’d known that, but she didn’t remember them being so pretty. Maybe it was the candlelight? In the back of her mind, the single brain cell that WASN’T occupied with trying to figure out when his eyes had gotten so green reminded the rest that he’d asked her a question, and nodding alone wasn’t really going to cut it for an answer. She looked startled.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm, that’s all.” She’d always been a terrible liar, but she hoped against all hope he’d just take it at face value, just this once. She cast her eyes around the room, hoping to find something to talk about that wasn’t herself. Her eyes fell upon a couple in a dark corner, arms wrapped around each other and swaying off beat, smiling ear to ear and conversing quietly. She smiled and motioned with her head. “They look happy, ain’t that out of place here.”

He followed her gaze, those eyes like a searchlight into her soul leaving her for a moment. His lips curled gently, a soft smile most people here wouldn’t believe was an expression in his repertoire. Sometimes even she couldn’t believe she got to see it. “I’m glad for them. You have to find happiness where it comes, in this kind of life, and too many of us forget how.”

She nodded and smiled, humming her agreement as she looked back up at him. Then, a question surfaced, brought on by a conversation they’d had in a hallway a few months prior and the memory of a sad look in his eyes. Her brows knit together, and for a moment she was very concerned. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as her heart pounded. “...Are you happy?”

Trinity turned his gaze on her once more, his face distant as he seemed to consider. “Right now?” Those eyes came back into focus, and his smile once again lit up their tiny corner of the world. “Yes, I’d say I am.”

A wave of relief washed over her to see him smile, and then a memory tickled at the back of her mind. She was ten, and her mother was signing divorce papers.

“Mama,” She asked from her seat across the table, a pencil in hand, “What is love anyway? How are you supposed to know how it feels?”

Her mother had sighed and turned over a page, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes. “Mija, love is what you call it when there’s nothing more important to you than knowing someone is happy.”

A second wave, this one of realization, hit her like a train. All Trinity heard in their shared comm was a quiet little “...oh”, before her left foot tried to step where her right foot already was. Her ankle twisted out from beneath her, sending her nearly crashing to the floor.

Before she could hit the ground, or really before it was even obvious she was falling, Trinity’s strong arms around her shifted and tightened. Suddenly, her hand was clasped in his, the other firmly on the small of her back, arched gracefully in a way she wouldn’t have thought she was capable of. He was holding her in a perfect dip, as if it had all been intentional. Of course, she would realize all of that later. For now, time was lost to the two of them, lost as they seemed to be in each other’s eyes.

Time outside their tiny bubble ticked on, of course, the sudden change noted by curious eyes all around the ballroom. Couples shifted in their dance steps, eyes met eyes in conspiratorial glances-- were they about to see a proposal tonight? Others couldn’t help but falter in shock at this never before seen side of Trinity Jericho, known to be icy on the best of days. How many of them, or their children, had he turned down only to be transformed into the sort of man who romantically dipped women on the dance floor by one brash southerner? Two pairs of eyes, on opposite sides of the room, turned away in unified frustration and disappointment. Perhaps it was too late for them-- each of the people they’d been longing for at a distance seemed now even farther away.

But then the moment had passed, barely an instant to the two who had been locked within it, and Trinity smoothly swung Azure back up into his arms. Their steps resumed. Unsurprisingly, he seemed to have recovered from their little mishap more easily than she.

“And here I thought we were past you tripping over your own feet,” he murmured, thinly veiled amusement evident in his tone. She tried and failed to come up with something witty to say back, her head so clearly somewhere far away from where they were. Her cheeks darkened, the rosy hue stretching to her ears and shoulders, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Sorry, I was thinkin’ about somethin’ else.”

Whatever it was, he hadn’t noticed it in the comms. Either she’d gotten better at keeping thoughts to herself, or he’d been a little distracted too. No further explanation seemed forthcoming, though, and the last thing he wanted was to push her when she already seemed a little… off. He nodded, allowing her to brush the topic aside, and pulled her close as the music shifted into something slow and sweet. Very close. After all, he wouldn’t want her to trip again.

20. Brotherly Interlude

Three hours, some cybernetic tinkering, and three cups of black coffee later, Azure finally felt like her heart wasn’t about to leap out of her throat, but now it was instead hanging low in the pit of her stomach. Once the delighted high of her realization faded, the guilt had set in. It felt wrong to care for Trinity, something forbidden and foreign stripping the joyous feeling down to something upsetting. The entire purpose of her presence at these stupid events had been to keep potential suitors and their pushy families out of his hair. It felt like a violation of his trust, to develop these feelings he was avoiding from others, and she had worked so hard to gain that trust in the first place. She cared about him, about his well being and his happiness, and she couldn’t see how not only making him reject her, but making him then go to these things alone again to avoid her was in any way helpful. He’d be back at square one, but with the added issue of the only person he could ask for help now being part of the problem. Sure, he’d told her the first time that it only had to be a one time thing, but then she’d asked to keep going, and now this looked like the world’s worst ulterior motive to deny other women access to him so she could isolate him and keep him all to herself. It was a horrible concept, and she hated herself for even bringing the possibility to light.

And she wasn’t even a good match for him, all number crunching and heavy boots. He deserved someone light on their feet and pretty and kind, so kind, just like he was.

She was sipping at the beginnings of mug number four and wondering how she’d ended up in this mess and how the hell she was going to get out of it when her brother, shirtless and with a fresh coat of blue developing in his hair, entered the room. Her shoulders stiffened and then purposefully slumped, trying to look normal. Crimson tossed her what she found out was a scone once she’d mindlessly taken a bite.

“Put a shirt on, dumbass.”

“Aw get a grip, where am I gonna be comfortably shirtless if not with family?”

“Weirdo.”

“Nah, you.”

She smiled mechanically and dipped the sandy dry baked good in her cup. Sweet, with a little bitterness from the coffee. Crim sat himself on the edge of her workbench table, thoughtfully and carefully dropping every crumb onto her workspace. He looked at her with a measured gaze that she knew was trying to tell her something that she just didn’t want to listen to right now. He cleared his throat.

“How’d your date go?”

“Wasn’t a date. Just a favor.” It was a lot harder to hide the strain in her voice that she couldn’t get a lid on when it was her brother she was talking to. She didn’t want to want it to be a date, it’s messy and that meant it wasn’t going to be easy to solve and she hated things that weren’t easy to solve. Except she did want it to be a date. Really badly, actually. Which again, was the problem in the first place. She pulled on a wrench a little too hard and it went flying across the lab. Crim ducked and winced.

“The eightieth favor, and ya came back redder’n a summer sunset.” Her beloved brother ignored it, like the loving family member he was. Look at him, pressing the initial issue. She wondered if she was like this to him when he got weird and locked himself in his little studio to do mountains of paperwork alone in between four minute naps and four AM meals with Perry. Maybe she should be nicer to him. He was all she had at the end of the day after all, it was just such a shame he was such a little shit. She brushed a few crumbs off her table.

“Listen, ain’t my fault the rich and influential like blowin’ money just to gossip like they could at a knittin’ circle.”

“You don’t have to go, you know. I know you hate these things, and any man worth his salt would tell ya you’re free to stay home.” He took another bite of his scone and avoided her eyes, like he knew the contact would make her jumpy and defensive. He was right of course, about men and the eye contact, but then she was already jumpy and defensive, so what was he doing other than mitigating damage like he always did for her. What a good twin.

She hesitated a moment before responding. She definitely did hate the events, with the overdone glamour and the careful answers to thinly veiled questions about motive and expertise. It was like playing a game no one would tell her all the rules of. She was horrible at games, and she was even worse at talking to people when she knew they wanted to rip her apart. But she didn’t really have to, Trinity had her back, every step she took.

“I know, but he’s alright, and he needs my help.”

Her brother shifted to stop leaning on her desk and grabbed the small hand broom she kept nearby to start sweeping bits of scone off her table. She realized with disgust that he’d just been eating it dry. She held out her mug. He leveled her with a look as he sipped it.

“Your taste in hot beverages needs help.”

“Not my fault you need forty packets of sugar minimum to power your ability to breathe.”

For the first time in longer than she’d want to admit, she watched her brother laugh and try to force down some hot bean water in his least favorite form.

“Touché.”

“Backwater hick, speak Terran-English like you were meant to.” She smiled as she took her mug back and dunked into it one more time. She had hoped maybe the joke would change the subject, but damn if stubbornness didn’t run deep in the family. Crimson skipped right back to the topic originally at hand.

“Azzy, you know that it’s a little outta character for you to keep doin’ somethin’ you don’t like when you don’t have to. What’s goin’ on? He blackmailin’ you? The dick’s bomb and you don’t wanna share, what is it?” He threw the joke in to keep the mood light, and she knew that, but she choked a little on her oversaturated scone anyway. Her brother, ever observant, laughed again, and she’d be happy to see him happy if it wasn’t at her expense. “Oh Azure, you dun caught the bug, huh?” He was still laughing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and decided it was best to take his leave while he still had the last word. “Good luck with that, Kari. You’ll need it with a man like that, I’m sure.”

She couldn’t formulate a response in time, so she drained the rest of her coffee and returned to her work, ears burning.

#wip: babylon #writeblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #chapter update

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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years

Note

vampire kenma or vampire akaashi!!!!!!!!!!!!

rolled the metaphorical dice and they landed on vampire akaashi . ALSO, i kinda plan on turning this into a series...thoughts?

!!! this is a sequel to my previous vampire!akaashi fic! please read part 1 first !!!

potential trigger warning: there are mentions and descriptions of blood, wounds, and blood drinking. you have been warned!

gender neutral readerword count: 3250

A month. That’s how long Keiji had gone without consuming the only thing that could keep him alive.

A vampire like himself needs to consume human blood at least twice a month to live comfortably, healthy, happy. Even then, he sometimes felt like two weeks was pushing it, though over time he adjusted.

Like many of his undead peers, Keiji gets what he needs from a company disguised as a normal human blood bank. It’s ran by friends he’s known for at least a century, and he receives bimonthly blood orders them - at least, before the delays he’s experienced this month.

From what he knows, he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten a single shipment from them this month. Keiji struggled to think about the lives this issue had likely caused to be lost - both humans and vampires alike.

Something like this had never happened. He’d never gone this long without. It’d been well over the usual two weeks by now, and while the business owners were overly apologetic about the setbacks they had, making promise after promise to get the issue fixed, Keiji wasn’t sure he’d be able to rely on them from here on out.

The hunger was killing him - figuratively, of course. It’d take another week or two for that to become literally true.

He felt empty. All he could think about was how much he craved the metallic taste of a human’s blood; he wanted something warm, sweet, fresh. God, he needed it. He’d die if he didn’t get it.

And it would be so easy to go out and get some of his own instead of waiting another few days for his order to arrive. He could just go stand outside of his apartment building, wait for the first lone person to walk by, and then…

No.

He couldn’t. It’d been years since he’s fed from a human - at least a couple decades by now. And at this point in his life, Keiji was no longer in the business of murdering innocent people just for his own sustainability. He lived with constant regret for the things he’s done in the past, and there was no way he could ever let himself kill another person. Even though deep down he wanted to, felt like he needed to - he wouldn’t. Keiji would let himself die before he killed again.

That’s why he had isolated himself in his home for the last week and a half. He knew the day his second order was late that he couldn’t manage being around humans until it came, until he satiated his hunger appropriately. That meant he had to call in sick to work and use his priceless vacation day that he’d been saving up, but he had no other choice. If he didn’t, he’d do something he could never take back.

To make things even worse, he had gone that long without seeing you, as well. The one thing he could think about other than his bloodlust was how much he missed you; he prayed his packages come tomorrow so he could see you then. He’d gone too long without you, and being away from you now showed him just how attached he was to you.

Keiji missed you so much, in fact, that he’d started dreaming about you. He doesn’t dream often, mainly because he doesn’t sleep often, but recently he’d been doing it as much as he could. Being asleep made it easier to ignore the hunger pains and cravings that were starting to become violent. That was exactly what he was doing now: sleeping and dreaming of you.

It was a good dream. A bit foggy, but still good. And as the dream went on, it started feeling more real. Your hand was on his arm, and it was almost like he could really feel it there. It was so warm. And he could smell you - he had a very good sense of smell in real life, but he didn’t think that translated to his dreams.

That scent was getting stronger. And then you spoke, but your mouth wasn’t moving. He could hear you, but…

“Keiji… wake up, Keiji.”

And then he jolted awake, and when he came out of the dream he felt like he didn’t even know where he was; he sat up, his back hitting his headboard and making it knock against the wall. The noise seemed to wake him up again. He was in his room, he had been asleep, he was trying to avoid that lust that was creeping back into his veins now and - you were really there. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you were really next to him. He hadn’t been dreaming of your touch or your voice. It was real.

“Oh,” he said, “Y/N… you’re here.”

Your presence felt amplified. Keiji hoped he would be able to control himself.

“Yeah… sorry for waking you, I tried calling, but you weren’t picking up… I got worried.”

Keiji shook his head, “It’s okay, uh… Hey.”

He figured he should’ve felt happier to see you, but he didn’t know if he was capable right now.

“Hey… you don’t look so good, babe…”

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes - he’s sure they looked even more lifeless than usual.

“You’re pale,” you noted, placing your warm hand on his face, grazing his cheekbone with your thumb. He missed your gentle touch more than you knew, but the heat from your skin was nothing but tantalizing. It’s like he could feel the blood coursing through your veins, taunting him. “And cold.”

“I know,” he replied, throat feeling dry - it didn’t matter how much water he drank, that feeling would never go away.

“It still hasn’t gotten here?”

He shook his head, shaking away your lingering touch. “Tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, and you looked so worried; your brows were drawn together, your gaze was soft. He really appreciated your concern. “I’ve been worried about you, Keiji… and seeing you like this only makes me worry more.”

“I’m fine,” he told you, trying his best to mean it. He didn’t feel fine in the slightest, but he wouldn’t let you know that. He joked, “I’m slowly withering away, but other than that I promise I’m fine.”

You didn’t even crack a smile. “That’s not funny,” you said. He hated when you were so serious.

If he had been standing up, your next words would’ve knocked him off his feet. They definitely took his breath away. “Keiji… are you sure you don’t want to drink from me?”

He didn’t know what to say - all he could choke out was a strangled form of your name.

“You need it, don’t you? And I want you to do it, I don’t care if it hurts. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I… I don’t need it that bad,” he said, and he was trying his hardest to avoid looking at you. He took shallow breaths so he didn’t have to smell you. He pulled away from your touch so he didn’t have to feel you.

“Are you sure?” you asked with a quiet voice, leaning in closer to him so he couldn’t even try to avoid you. “Keiji, I’m right here. I love you. And I want to give you anything you need.”

“You don’t have to do that… I - I don’t want to use you for this.”

What he said was true - you were his girlfriend, not his blood bank. That’s how he always saw your relationship, and he didn’t want to change things now just because he was going through a hard time. He didn’t want to become dependent on you for this, or make you feel like you have to feed him your blood because you’re his partner. But if he needed it, and you were willing to give it to him…

“You won’t be using me. I’m just giving you my blood, right? And it can just be this once.”

He nodded, even though he knew, logically, it definitely wouldn’t be just once.

Though right now he couldn’t care about any future consequences.

“…Just this once,” he mumbled, repeating your words back to you as if that would make them true.

You had never seen Keiji look so defeated. He had his head bowed down and he only looked up at you for a second, but it was all it took for you to really see just how sunken his eyes looked. And that’s probably why you were so willing to be the one he fed on - there was only one thing that would help him, and you had it. Of course you’d give it to him.

“How long will it take for you to feel better? You know, after…”

He shrugged, “An hour? Maybe less.”

“Then it’s worth it,” you said, brushing his hair from his face.

“You probably won’t feel too great for the rest of the day, though…”

You shook your head. “It’s worth it.”

Keiji wasn’t going to argue - even if he wanted to, he didn’t have the energy. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You sat in silence for a moment - you didn’t really know what to do, and Keiji was trying to figure out a plan that didn’t involve him literally pouncing on you and drinking you dry.

When he was ready, he looked up at you to find you were sitting with your head back, chin up, your neck awkwardly on show - he couldn’t help but laugh at you.

“What?!”

“What are you doing?” he asked, grabbing your face and pulling you to look normally again.

“I’m just waiting,” you replied, trying not to be embarrassed.

He snorted at you. “I’m not going to bite you there. Let’s, um…” He took your hand, holding your wrist out. “Let’s do it here, yeah?”

“Sure,” you replied - you had no idea how this was meant to be done. Keiji was the vampire, afterall. You always just assumed vampires bit their victims on the neck and nowhere else.

“Everyone will see if I bite your neck,” he chuckled. “You’re silly.”

You scoffed, “shut up,” but you knew he was right.

And then he stood up. With his back facing you, you couldn’t see what he was doing - if anything - but you noticed how small you felt compared to him. He wasn’t even that tall, but everything about him screamed powerful.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see when he turned around. Was he going to have some sort of vampire transformation? Was he even going to look like himself anymore?

Sure enough, he looked no different. He was still Keiji, just like he’d said when he told you about this secret months ago.

“Okay,” he took a deep breath and continued, “it might hurt, because I don’t really have any energy for the telekinesis I would normally do…”

Telekinesis?

You decided not to question him, but you’d save your curiosity for later.

“…I’ll try to be gentle, but I get a little different when I do this so I’m sorry if I scare you - I promise it won’t last longer than a minute or two and I swear I’ll do anything you need when it’s over - okay?”

“Okay -”

“And I love you,” he interrupted you to say. He was approaching you, your wrist was in his large hand and he had a tight hold on it. He was already losing his grip on the control he’d been keeping up - his fangs were suddenly growing because he just couldn’t contain them anymore. But he was still able to say, “I love you so much, please know that.”

And before you could say it back, he had you pressed against the bed. His hips pressed firm against yours, his legs trapped your own between them. He was holding your arm in such a way that it’d break if you tried escaping, and he had your other arm held tight against the bed.

It felt like he was holding you in place with every bit of strength and energy he had left - because he was. And even though he wasn’t at his full potential, he was still so strong. You almost couldn’t believe it.

But he couldn’t help it. In all his years, he had never fed from a human consensually - humans were always his prey. He had to hold them down so they couldn’t get away, and he learned very quickly that he had to hold on tight. He was doing this out of habit, instinct - he didn’t know any other way.

The only reason he hesitated to sink his teeth in is because it was your skin he’d be biting. He wanted to do this carefully, try to be as loving as possible, respect your body and blood more than he ever had anyone’s before. He owed you that.

So he changed the position slightly; instead of having your arm uncomfortably held across your chest, he let it go. He let you lay it on the bed, bent so your wrist was positioned next to your head, and he hoped that would be more comfortable for you but he didn’t ask.

Keiji closed his eyes as his lips fell to rest on your skin; he heard you take a deep breath, and he knew you were scared.

He hated how much your fear excited him. It gave him a rush, one he hadn’t felt in so long.

But he didn’t want you to be afraid. And he didn’t want to be excited to do this; those instincts were uncontrollable, but he had to take some of that control back. He kept telling himself that he had to do this right.

You felt his fingers entwine with yours, wrapping around your palm from behind it; his other arm loosened its grip so you could pull your own free.

“Don’t move,” he told you after you rested your free hand on his shoulder.

He tightened his grip on your hand and everywhere else out of habit, but not knowing that, you managed to find it comforting.

Now, he couldn’t hold back.

The bite was quick. And honestly, pretty painless at first. You could hardly feel his fangs breaking your skin; it was when he pulled them out that nearly made you scream. Keiji knew it hurt, he felt terrible, but he made it as painless as possible without using any mind tricks.

He pulled his mouth away just for a second to look at the two wounds he had left on your wrist. He watched scarlet begin to leak from the twin wells - it always started so painfully slow. But those wounds were begging for him to come back to them, and that’s the only thing he could hear - not your whimpers or staggered breathing. Blood looked so beautifully appetizing on your skin, and all Keiji cared about was getting a taste, finally quelling that hunger he’s had for so long now.

The gulp you heard from his throat sent a shiver down your spine, but there was no doubt in your mind that this was a good choice. You were giving Keiji what he needed, you were helping keep him alive as he fed on you. And it was rough and painful and scary, but the more he drank from you, the calmer you felt. It was probably just a daze from losing so much blood so quickly, but you knew that you were okay. You were happy to do this for him. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that the two of you belonged there, that you were meant to be doing this.

You weren’t sure how long had passed. He could’ve been drinking from you for ten minutes now and you wouldn’t have known. You didn’t know when it would be too much or if Keiji even planned on stopping, but you could hardly think about that. You could hardly think about anything.

Keiji counted to 60 in his head from the time he started; when he got there he struggled to pull away, but it was the exact moment he felt your tight grip on his shoulder loosen.

So he made himself stop. He opened his eyes and he swore he could see clearer; he already felt more like himself. He pulled away but he didn’t go far; his tongue lingered on your skin, caressing the wounds he had left, still bleeding a gorgeous crimson.

And Keiji wasn’t sure what to do from there. He wasn’t used to leaving his victims alive - years ago when he did this, leaving humans alive after drinking from them was completely unheard of, so he found himself feeling quite lost.

It was only when he heard you make a tired whimper did he actually look over at your face, and god, you looked precious; you wore the softest smile he had ever seen and even though your skin had lost its warmth, you still looked so alive. So human.

“You’re finished?” you asked, completely unaware of how much blood you had even lost.

Most humans would be begging him to stop by then, but he hadn’t even used his telekinesis on you and still, you were only concerned for him.

“I’m done,” he told you, and he only just realized he could loosen himself from you. He pushed his body off of yours and cradled you as gently as he could - he felt like he had to treat you like glass, you looked so fragile. “We’re done, kitten, no more.”

You nodded, your movements were slow and Keiji would’ve been worried if he wasn’t absolutely sure that he didn’t go too far.

“We need to get you cleaned up…”

“Are you sure you had enough?”

He scoffed at you, “Kitten, don’t worry about me. You’re the one who’s bleeding right now.”

“I’m just making sure,” you replied, and he shook his head at you before going to fetch his first aid kit from the bathroom.

It wouldn’t be hard to stop the bleeding and tidy you up; the wounds he left weren’t too big, once he bandaged your wrist you’d be good as new.

You sat up and he sat next to you, tending to your arm.

“How was that?” he asked you quietly. “Are you feeling alright?”

You gave another slow nod; he spared your face a glance to find that you were smiling, and the sight made him feel warm.

“I feel great,” you told him honestly.

He finished with your bandage before he replied. “Thank you, kitten. Thanks to you, I feel like a new man.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, laughing quietly with him. You felt a bit sluggish; it felt like everything was turned down, like you were stuck inside your head. But you were happy to be there, and glad to feel this way for the man you loved so much.

Keiji tapped your nose quickly and said, “Remember, ma’am, no heavy lifting or controlling heavy machinery for 24 hours after a blood donation.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” you said with a giggle.

Before you could even realize, Keiji had moved you to lay down; he tucked you in and gave your cheek a gentle kiss, then two kisses on your nose.

“Thank you. I owe you one now, babe… how will I ever make it up to you?”

“With cookies, maybe…”

Keiji laughed. “Cookies are a good start.”

#tw: blood #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu imagines #vampire!akaashi #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #fluff

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porkchop-ao3 · 3 years

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 64)

Loose Ends

Yep, I’m still alive! Just not spending any time at all writing 😅😬 Here’s another chapter anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also, happy holidays and here’s hoping for a better 2021!!

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

We moved west, staying north, and found a place to camp far from where any Pinkertons were still patrolling. We travelled for hours, all through the remaining hours of the night, through the morning and into the afternoon. We ended up at Cotorra Springs when the sun began to set; it was cooler there and when we found a spot away from any trails, pretty secluded, we decided it was as good a place as any. The rushing sound of the geysers erupting every now and then kept making me jump at first but soon became a somewhat comforting sound. A reminder that no matter what happened, life always carried on, the world wasn't going to stop spinning and fall to pieces just yet.

We set up a small campsite with a few tents and a fire, over which we cooked meat from a deer that Charles had hunted while the rest of us set up. None of us knew how long we would be there but it was clear that we all needed some food and some rest before we even attempted to figure out our next move. We all sat around the fire with our food and little Jack was asleep with Cain by his side; the dog had tagged along with us on our journey, jumping atop the Marston's wagon whenever he got too tired.

"What exactly are we all gonna do?" John was the first one to bring up the elephant in the room, and everyone turned to eye him almost irritatedly.

Nobody spoke up or offered any sort of response, and after a moment, Lenny threw his hat in the ring.

"It's a good question. We can't live like this forever, can we?"

"Course not," Arthur said. He didn't quite snap the words but they weren't untroubled. "We've got a chest full of money on that wagon, we'll… we'll figure out what everyone wants to do and split it accordingly."

"I don't want a penny of that money," Sadie hissed, then spat into the fire, "reeks of Dutch and Micah and dirty betrayal."

"Hey, that implies it was all their money. Dutch barely put a penny in if it weren't from a job we all did together," John scoffed.

"I don't want it either but let's be rational. We're gonna need it," Charles said, looking at Sadie. "We didn't just go through all that only to starve to death at the end of it, all because of pride."

"He's got a point," I agreed. "I don't think any of us should have a problem taking that bastard's money," I added.

"Ain't his money," John shook his head, picking at something stuck in his teeth, "it's our half, fair 'n' square."

"Yeah," I nodded after a moment, but frowned a little. Silence lingered.

"It's obvious none of us feel too good about takin' it," Abigail broke it, stating the unspoken.

"I feel fine," John snorted.

"Me too, for the most part," I hesitantly agreed. Arthur sighed beside me and everyone looked at him.

"For the love of God, not a single one of you refuse that money. This is hard enough, at this point, that money's the only thing that made this possible. Without money, we're trapped, and if we're trapped, we'll end up in the damn ground," he told us through tensely gritted teeth. More silence followed, broken by Susan.

"You're right, Mr. Morgan. This ain't no time for pride and making things needlessly hard on ourselves. We've just gotta take this opportunity to get the heck out of this mess, so I don't wanna hear no bellyaching from any of you," she said sternly, and John nodded in agreement. Lenny took a breath, and nodded too.

"And what're you gonna do Miss Grimshaw?" I asked her softly. She met my eyes across the fire, her brows arching a little in surprise that I'd asked.

"Me? I'm- I'm–" she began hesitantly, and glanced at the others before letting out a breath.

"You ain't thought about it none?" Abigail asked, and Susan turned her gaze to her.

"Quite the opposite," she scoffed a laugh, then patted the side of her hair bun in an attempt at brushing back fly-aways. "Maybe I'm just a little bit ashamed to admit that I've been planning for this for a while."

My eyes widened, and so did most of the others'.

"Oh come on. Please. A woman would have to be foolish to not consider a few back up plans in this way of life. Especially with how things have been the past few months. Even Miss O'Shea had her plans," she added, and my eyes dropped down at her mention. I always felt strange about the whole Molly situation, considering I was potentially the last person to really talk to her.

"You ain't wrong. So what's your plan?" Abigail asked.

"I know a lot of people Miss Roberts, I have options," she chuckled. "But I think I envision a future in moonshine. An old friend of mine's been wanting to go into business together for a while now, I think I'll pay her a visit."

"Which old friend is this, anyone we know?" Arthur questioned.

"No. If you knew her, you'd know exactly who I'm talking about. She ain't a lady you easily forget," Susan chuckled, shaking her head.

"Ain't nothing to do with those Braithwaites, then?" John snorted and Susan rolled her eyes.

"The Maggie I know would sooner hang than have anything to do with those idiots," she laughed. I smiled as I watched her laugh, feeling my admiration for her swell. Susan was a woman I would never be like, and I knew I'd miss her sorely despite all of the times I'd giggled when one of the girls would roll their eyes or pull a face at her behind her back. I knew everyone had a lot of love for her, and I did too.

"What about you then, Lenny?" Arthur asked. "What's your plan?"

"Ohh, I'll be a rolling stone for a while I think, see where life takes me. I’d like to… learn,” he said almost hesitantly, a mild frown puckering the skin between his brows. His eyes lifted and settled on Charles for a brief moment, “maybe, if the stars align, I might just have a chance at making something of myself,” he laughed, but there was an ugly reality behind his words that bittered them slightly, though he kept smiling, and it was no accident that it was Charles that his eyes landed on. The smile that Charles returned to him was one of quiet understanding.

“My father, he wanted me to be a lawyer,” Lenny turned his grin to me, his eyes brightening a little. “From bank robber to lawyer, can you imagine that?”

I chuckled, despite the fact that with Lenny’s intelligence, charisma and articulateness, I didn't doubt his capability.

“Dutch always said I had too much potential to stay robbing banks for the rest of my life,” he breathed, looking down into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes, making them shine bright even though his energy dulled a little at his mention. Yet another silence fell across the campfire and I kept my eyes on the young man before me, so full of potential yet held back by so many factors far out of his control, and my heart hurt.

“I think that's the only thing I know of that came out of his mouth and made a lick of sense,” I noted. He looked at me, held my gaze for a few moments, then released a quiet breath.

“Maybe I’ll head to Washington D.C. Try to get a job, or go to school. I don't know about being a lawyer,” he breathed a laugh and shook his head, “but doing something… more than what I have been doing. That’d be good. I think my dad would be proud of that.”

“Your dad would be proud of you already, Lenny. I mean that. You’re a good kid, got a good heart,” Arthur told him, and everyone made a show of agreement, nodding, humming confirmations and patting him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, all’a you, I… it's been quite a ride, ain’t it?” Lenny sighed.

“That it has…” Charles trailed off.

“And I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Abigail announced, dropping her plate on the ground before rising to her feet. I watched as she very carefully bundled Jack up into her arms. “Goodnight, y’all.”

“Goodnight,” the rest of us whispered softly, as if suddenly we would all wake up the boy, even though he’d been sleeping just fine before.

“I need some sleep too,” John agreed, and it set off a chain reaction, and Lenny and Susan retired to their sleeping spots. Charles drained the contents of his bottle of the beer that Sadie had managed to snag before we all left.

“Arthur, tomorrow night we should…” he said quietly as he rose to his feet, trailing off. Arthur met his eyes and stared silently for a while, then nodded.

“We will.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Charles nodded, then headed towards his tent.

“I weren’t planning on leaving him, not for a second,” Arthur called after him and Charles waved a hand dismissively, smiling over his shoulder at him.

“I know. Goodnight, folks,” he added, then crawled inside his tent to bed down for the night. I glanced at Arthur for some clarification and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“Eagle Flies got captured by the army. I said I’d break him out, I have to, princess–”

“Don't think I’m gonna try to stop you,” I whispered. He turned his head towards me, and I kissed his cheek.

“Thank you. He got caught when I was helping Dutch screw the lot of ‘em over, pretending to be helpful. I gotta speak to him and his father, tell them about what happened with the gang today. Eagle Flies can’t keep on trusting him, getting sucked in by his fancy words just like I did at his age. It won’t do anyone any good in the end,” he explained, and I nodded in agreement.

"You need some help breaking him out?" Sadie questioned. Arthur met her eyes and shook his head.

"Charles has a plan, shouldn't need more than the two of us."

"In that case, maybe there's something you can help me with instead," she said, leaning forwards, elbows on knees. My stomach squeezed a bit at the way her eyes lit with devilish determination. "O'Driscolls. There's a bunch of 'em hiding out over at Hanging Dog Ranch."

"Sadie–" Arthur began, his hand raising.

"With Colm gone and with just a few stragglers left, we can end those bastards for good," she cut him off, her hands clenching into fists. I took a breath and looked down at my feet, pressing my lips together.

"Sadie, I… I don't think we– we just got out of a bad situation, we're doing all we can just to get by–" he began again, and I could feel his tense but careful sympathy in his tone.

"We can finish 'em. We can. This is all I got left now, bringing some kinda justice to those sick bastards after what they did to me, what they did to my husband," she leaned forwards even more, her body tensing up, I could see her from the corner of my eye, getting full of desperation. I sensed Arthur glance at me.

My heart ached. We were finally away from Dutch and I had hoped that it would be the end of Arthur risking his life over grudges. I could handle him going with Charles to break a good man out of prison, I wasn't happy about the risk he was putting himself at but I knew he had to do it. But going to kill O'Driscolls? I was so conflicted. Sadie deserved closure over what happened to her husband, but I didn't want to lose Arthur over it. I couldn't stand it if we came this far only to–

"Please, Arthur. I need someone to ride with me. I can't go in there on my own but if I got no one–” Sadie's voice cracked and my eyes flashed up to her. "You're the only one I trust to do this with me and do it right. And I gotta do it, Arthur, I can't just let them get away with it. Please."

I stared at Sadie, feeling her pain emanating from her in waves, it made the hairs on my arms stand up and bile rise in my throat. My eyes tingled as tears threatened to form there, and Arthur looked at me again. Then Sadie did. Suddenly, I found, it was my choice, without even saying a word.

I nervously toyed with the locket around my neck, and saw Arthur's eyes momentarily flitter down to it.

"Arthur you–" I began after some time, when it was made clear that they were waiting on my blessing. Mine. Like I had any control over anything. "Sadie's done so much for us," I said monotonously, though it wasn't without feeling, "it's clear she needs this."

"Thank you!" Sadie exhaled, and I rose to my feet.

"I need to sleep," I whispered, then stepped over the log I'd been sitting on and headed for the tent I shared with Arthur. "Goodnight."

I climbed inside and laid down on my bedroll, wrapping myself up in the blanket and curling up on my side. I could hear quiet voices outside the tent, a muffled mix of soft tones from both Sadie and Arthur, none of which I could make out as words. It was only a few minutes before cool air filled the tent as the flap was pulled back, and Arthur climbed in beside me. He shuffled around, getting under his own blanket and scooting up behind me, his hand gingerly resting on my hip.

"Princess," he whispered. I made a small hum of acknowledgement. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, and Arthur exhaled, then kissed the shell of my ear.

"Talk to me, please."

"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm trying not to put a leash on you, and trying to give Sadie the opportunity to get justice for her husband. All the while I'm worrying any one of these jobs people have you doing'll be the one that kills you. Right when we're finally doing what we've been waiting for," I whispered. Arthur's hand gently drifted up and down my side, his lips still at my ear giving me little pecks.

"I could try to reassure you, but it won't help, will it?" He said softly, sadly. I shook my head. "What do you want me to do instead?"

"Nothing. I don't want you to do anything, Arthur. I can't ask you not to do all these things. That's why I came in here to sleep, cause I know anything I say ain't gonna do any good."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not," I breathed, then rolled over to face him. "I'm not mad, I'm worried. And I'll be worried until we're away from here for good. That's it. All I need from you is just to hold me right now, so I can enjoy the time I have with you," I told him, and kissed his chin. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.

"Just a couple more jobs, princess, then it's over. I promise," he told me.

"Please keep your word," I whispered, closing my eyes and nestling my face into his collar.

"I will. I'm under nobody's thumb no more, I do what I want. These things, they're just… they're things I gotta do for my friends. I know you understand that, right?"

"I do. It's why I'm not stopping you."

"I'm real lucky I have you. And that you're like this. You're a good woman," he told me and I chuckled, shaking my head a little.

"You don't have to flatter me, Arthur."

"I ain't flattering. I'm thanking you. Thank you," he said, pressed his lips momentarily to the crown of my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I replied.

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke again. "Can I ask you something? Or shall I let you sleep?"

"Now I'm curious about the question. Go on," I answered.

"Where'd you get that locket from? The one you been wearing since I got back. Looks familiar."

The question surprised me. It wasn't anything like what I was expecting, and I laughed. Then stopped when I considered my answer. My heart was suddenly pounding because I knew I had to address how I had felt while he was away in Guarma.

"It was Susan's," I told him. "She gave it to me."

"That'll be why it's familiar," he mused.

"It has a photograph of you inside it," I added. He was quiet for a moment.

"It does?" He questioned, tone going up a note.

I hummed my confirmation. "I… I was real bad for a while when you was gone. Susan wanted to cheer me up. I haven't taken it off since."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"A little. It was nice to have something of you, at least. But it didn't hurt any less, that you were gone."

"It would've been a comfort to have something of you with me while I was away. I thought about you constantly, I wanted to see your face just once… I didn't even have my journal, with my drawings of you. They don't live up to the real thing but they're something, at least," he whispered, squeezing me tight.

"Let me see them," I whispered, kissing his collar bone. He made a small sound, a sort of hum, sort of sigh.

"My drawings?"

I nodded as I moved back a little to look at him. "I've only seen a couple of your drawings of me. How many have you done?"

"More than you've seen," he chuckled sheepishly, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the top of the tent. I shifted onto my elbow and gazed down at him.

"May I see?" I questioned insistently, his grin widened. He was embarrassed, it was clear. "It's just me," I whispered, stroking my hand over his chest.

"Just you? That's the problem."

"Problem?"

"I'm worried I'll embarrass you."

"Why would I be embarrassed?" I laughed. Arthur sighed and met my eyes.

"Get my journal," he acquiesced. I giggled and sat up, reaching for his satchel that sat by his feet. I retrieved the journal and handed it to him, but he nodded towards me, urging me to keep it. "Take a look, princess."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #rdr2fanfic

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falcon-eye · 4 years

Text

Felt like I was neglecting Hamra a little bit, so this one is about him! Sorry Veko and Eloise will be back soon, I promise. Another part of my OC story from @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! This one also got away from me. I started writing this literally not knowing where it was going and it just kinda ran wild. Potential trigger warnings for panic attacks, talk of past trauma (but no details yet, only allusions), and Hamra’s horrible self-image. I’ve also given up on italics cuz I’ve been writing all this on my phone and it’s been a nightmare to format lol Enjoy!

Tag list! Let me know if you want to be added! @ainawgsd @rocknrollphanda

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Sonja and Fritz weren’t the only people to come look after the baby, but they were the only ones who knew Hamra was in the rafters and so they greeted him every time they came by. Strangely, it made Hamra feel good even though he came to this room to get away from everyone. They would peer up at him, wave or say hi occasionally, take care of the baby, and then say goodbye on their way out. After a while, Hamra stopped holding his breath every time he heard the door open.

The hole he had chipped in the wall for him to crawl through straight onto “his” rafters was big enough now that he didn’t dislodge bits of rock when he slunk through. Apparently, the baby’s mother had been concerned that the room was falling apart, but either Sonja or Fritz had assured her that everything was alright. Hamra hadn’t met the baby’s mother yet, and though he’d never admit it, he almost didn’t ever want to. Sonja and Fritz letting him stick around was one thing; the baby’s mother had every right to scream and kick him out. He supposed be could find another room, but with servants and apparently more nobles occasionally flocking to Kaer Morhen, the number of quiet, secluded rooms was dwindling. And though he knew about Camp Sulk, it felt uncomfortable to seek refuge in a place so many others used; the mixed smells and leftover emotions alone made Hamra’s skin crawl.

Not everyone who came to take care of the baby came in pairs, but Sonja and Fritz always came together. So it was odd when one day only Sonja showed, giving Hamra a little wave before tending to the child. Hamra waited for Fritz to enter but... nothing. It wasn’t like not having both of them was wrong, per say, but Hamra liked patterns; he liked having some kind of “normalcy” in his life, however form that took.

“Where’s—“ Hamra started, and Sonja gasped, clutching the baby to her chest. She looked up at Hamra and laughed awkwardly.

“Whew!” she said. “Oh, Master Witcher, you startled me! I almost forgot what your voice sounded like!”

Hamra slowly crept down from his perch. “Sorry,” he said softly. There was a few moments’ silence, Sonja watching Hamra, Hamra watching the ground, the baby babbling softly as he sucked his own fist.

“Did you... need something?” Sonja asked.

All the courage Hamra had was gone. He didn’t mean to scare her. Sonja ducked her head to meet Hamra’s eyes and blinked up at him expectantly.

“Wh-where...” Hamra began, but his voice failed him. He wrung his hands together, looked over at the door, pointed at Sonja, and then the empty space next to her.

“Oh!” Sonja exclaimed, and Hamra was just able to contain a flinch at the sudden sound. “Fritz! Fritz is... helping Miss Heddy today.” At Hamra’s blank look, she added, “Olek’s mother?”

Olek, Olek, Olek, where had he heard that name? Fuck, he was bad at names. He was bad at people. He was bad at a lot of things: talking, thinking, signs—Hamra hunched his shoulders around his ears as his mind went on a tangent.

Sonja apparently noticed Hamra’s discomfort. “Ah, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you,” she said, “since Fritz and I are the only ones who know you’re here.” Sonja adjusted the baby on her hip and took his little hand in hers. “This is Olek!”

Oh. Yeah. That would make sense. The baby—Olek cooed and wrapped his hand around Sonja’s finger. Hamra, not knowing what else to do, nodded.

“You haven’t met Miss Heddy yet, have you?” Sonja asked.

Hamra heard the rush of blood in his ears. His eyes went wide and he met Sonja’s gaze. Oh gods, was she going to tell the mother he was there?

Sonja took a step back at his panic and held out a hand. “I-it’s ok!” she said, now a little startled herself. “I was just curious!” Sonja settled Olek back into his crib. “She’s a really nice lady,” she continued, still facing the crib. Hamra was greatful; having someone’s full attention on him was hard. “She brought Fritz and I here. We were... well, we were in a bad way when she found us. Miss Heddy used to be a merchant. Or, she still is, occasionally. She’s been down in Wolvenburg for the past little while, so that’s why she hasn’t been here with the little one, here.”

Hamra nodded despite the fact that Sonja was facing away from him. The fact that she wasn’t looking at him emboldened him, a little. “You... won’t tell her I’m here?” he asked softly.

Sonja made a move to turn around, but then thought better of it. She put both hands on the side of Olek’s crib and stared at the wall. “I won’t,” she assured, “but... why? I-if you don’t mind me asking!”

If he didn’t mind? He was the intruder here. “I-I want...” he swallowed thickly, picking at the skin of his palm. “To stay... here.”

This time, Sonja did turn around. “Why wouldn’t you?” Hamra didn’t answer, staring down at the floor, but he heard Sonja sigh softly. “If I can be honest, Master Witcher, I think she’d love to know that her baby is being looked after by someone so capable.”

Hamra met her gaze again. Capable? That wasn’t something Hamra had ever been called before, except by maybe Veko. But Veko was his brother, his twin. It would look bad if Veko openly considered his own flesh and blood to be mess that he was.

“You don’t think so?” Sonja asked. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then suddenly spun around to pick Olek back up. “Here, would you like to hold him?”

Hamra’s slow heartbeat raced to a speed he wasn’t aware it could get to anymore. The baby reached out for him and Hamra surged backwards til he hit the wall. Sonja’s face fell. Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her upset! He just couldn’t... How could he hold a baby? How could he hold something so precious? All he did was destroy; all he did was hurt. Even Veko, the only person in the world to care for him despite everything he was, had been burned and scarred by Hamra’s destruction.

Hamra didn’t realize Sonja was calling him for a few moments. When he came back to himself, breath haggard, he found himself on the floor, curled with his knees to his chest. Sonja was kneeling a few feet away. Hamra sniffed, smelling before seeing with horror that Sonja was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she was saying, hands held up. “Master Witcher, I’m sorry, so sorry, are you alright?”

Hamra swallowed hard and slammed his hand onto the stone floor a lot harder than he meant to. Sonja flinched, but didn’t flee or move forward. Hamra scraped his hand along the stone, catching tiny bits of gravel and dirt in the lines of his palm, forward and back, forward and back, as the rest of the room came into focus. Olek was in his crib, making distressed noises.

“M-master Witcher?” Sonja said softly. Hamra sniffed again and nodded, staring at a point on the floor between them. “M-may I...?”

What was she asking? May she what? May she leave? She was a nice girl, probably trying to be polite to this fucking wreck of a Witcher—wreck of a grown man, even! But when he nodded, all she did was slide forward on her knees a few feet until she was directly in front of him.

It wasn’t until she reached out and towards him that he realized he was making a soft keening noise, because as soon as she touched his knee, he stopped. Sonja searched his eyes, and what she was looking for he had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” Sonja whispered. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you, Master Witcher. It’s ok. You don’t need to hold the baby if you don’t want to.”

Sonja gently brushed her thumb over Hamra’s knee and all of his attention focused on the feel of her hand on him. Why was she touching him? Didn’t she know what he could’ve done just then? What happened when Cats lose time like that? What happened to the people around them?

He must’ve made a noise or a face or something, because Sonja’s hand slid off of his knee. “O-ok,” she said softly, holding her hands up again for him to see. After a moment, she slowly lowered them to clasp together her lap. Mercifully, she also broke their eye contact. “I-I didn’t mean to... W-well, um...” A few tears dropped onto her skirt and she wiped her eyes hastily. He’d made her cry. She was nice to him, said hi and bye to him, and he made her cry!

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words sounding almost punched out of him.

“N-no, it’s not your fault!” Sonja said, waving her hands. “I-I didn’t know that would set spark.”

Set... What?

Again, Hamra must’ve made a face, because Sonja hurried to continue. “I-It’s something Miss Heddy says,” she explained. “She says some people call it different things but it’s like... when you’re trying to start a fire, a single spark is sometimes all it takes. And even though it’s so small, it can build and build until the fire is so large.” Sonja fumbled with the hem of her skirt and swallowed. “Some people, some things they hear or see or—or sometimes even smell, it... sets spark. Fritz and I... we were in a bad place, before the White Wolf came to power. And sometimes... sometimes I still... spark. Over small things. And I—I lose myself. B-but it’s ok! It happens to a lot of people. Especially people who have seen a lot of bad things in their lives.”

Hamra was enraptured; he thought this was only a thing that happened because of his mutations and his fucked up head. The idea that others experienced even something similar to what he had—it was almost overwhelming. And the idea that it happened to Sonja... made Hamra incredibly sad. She was so nice; she shouldn’t have to experience that.

Sonja nodded to herself and met Hamra’s eyes again. “I don’t always, um,” she bit her lip again, searching for the words. “I don’t always lose my breath, like that. I... cry. And I get quiet. I-I know I talk a lot, and I ramble, but... but when something sets spark, I go quiet. Because I was... never supposed to speak, before. They didn’t like it. And when something sparks, it’s like I’m back there again and I need to be quiet. Or something bad will happen. A-and I know the people around me aren’t them, but it’s like a part of my mind can’t tell the difference.”

Hamra wanted to destroy any and everything that ever made Sonja feel that way. For a moment, he almost became consumed by the anger at the mere thought. He started breathing heavier, but tried so hard to calm down. No, this wasn’t helping. He was just going to make it worse.

Hamra slammed his head back against the wall and Sonja yelped. “N-no! Don’t do that!” she exclaimed. “Please, don’t do that, I’m sorry Master Witcher!”

Admittedly, it hadn’t been a great idea, but the pain in Hamra’s head made his anger fade. He cupped the back of his head in one and and curled forward with a groan. He heard the rustling of fabric and very gently, Sonja’s hand came to rest on the back of his.

Hamra looked up at her as she was wiping her eyes again. “That’s another thing some people do,” she said. “H-hurt themselves. Please, Master Witcher, don’t do that.”

“H-hamra,” Hamra said softly.

“Master Hamra,” Sonja said, nodding.

Hamra shook his head. “Just... just Hamra.”

Sonja smiled, and fuck if it wasn’t beautiful. Behind them, Olek let out a loud whine and Hamra winced. Sonja stood and went to the crib; Hamra stood as she did so. Fuck, he felt like he’d just been hit by... well, every Witcher in the keep. And a wyvern.

Sonja settled Olek down and when she turned, Hamra was already back in the rafters. She smiled gently at him and nodded. He nodded back and waved. Why did he wave?

“If, um,” Sonja cleared her throat. “If you ever need—or want—to... to talk. I’m, um. I’ll—I’ll listen. Or if you just need someone to—to be there—“ She was blushing, and Hamra could hear her rapid heartbeat. “I can...” Sonja gathered the supplies she’d brought for Olek and took a deep breath. “I, um, I need to be going now. Think about it, maybe?”

As Sonja opened the door, something akin to courage came over Hamra. “Goodbye, Sonja,” he said.

Sonja smiled up at him softly. “Good day, Hamra.”

#the witcher #witcher oc #accidental warlord au #inexplicifics #falcon writes

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

The Analyst | Night Terrors (2)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: The prestigious department of police and investigations in Seoul, Korea, is called to the small town of Cape Springs in rural California. Nothing is quite what it seems here.

Warnings: Blood, violence, you know crime stuff? Fluffy stuff somehow

Genre: Mystery, Crime, Angst, a lil humor, sexual innuendos, BUT I S W E AR DON’T WRITE SMUT OKAY

Word Count: 8k Words (they just keep getting longer omg)

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! Any suspects? Just message me if you want to be tagged!

Thank you so much to @kingbewwy for helping with my story planning and ideas!!

Beautiful header by the wonderful @dnrequests

Other:

Series Masterlist

Normal Masterlist

Previous | Next

You were leaving class, head down, trying to stay out of the way of the students in front of you. Blending into the background was something that you wanted, but you also couldn’t hide your passion for forensic analysis. The entire process fascinated you, plus it was a job that had you easily disappearing from the public eye. You were taking biochemistry, toxicology, and criminal justice to bolster your dreams.

It was a normal day. Normal as it could be for you, anyway. You were currently interning at the local police station on a work study permit. You would go and observe how things worked in your free time, often shadowing the forensic analyst of the team. Jae-hwa was an older man with years of experience, yet no cases to use that experience on. The man would often grumble about the slowness of the town as he showed you how to work the equipment.

Today, you made your way to the station, shoulders drooping under the weight of your backpack.

“Y/N!” Your mentor called. “Come here, we want to introduce you to somebody.”

“Okay?” You dropped your bag in the office lounge and made your way to where you could hear his voice. He stood, a younger man next to him.

“This is Namjoon, he’s interning here as well now.”

You smiled warmly, Namjoon did the same. He had dimples, which you couldn’t help thinking were adorable.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N, I hope we work well together.” You held out your hand and he shook it. His grip was firm, but not tight.

“Nice to meet you as well, and same to you.” He dipped his head in acknowledgement. He seemed cool, calm, and collected. He would make a great police chief. If it weren’t for that hair.You thought to yourself. His bright blue hair might be a little too...funky?

“I’ll let you two get acquainted.” The forensic autopsy technician passed you some money. “Here, go out to lunch or something.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I can pay.” You smiled, offering the cash back to him. You may be a broke college student, but you still refused handouts. The man sighed.

“Just take it, Y/N.” Then he left.

There was an awkward silence as you and the other intern stared at each other. He swallowed, you blinked a couple times. Finally, you cleared your throat.

“I guess we should get going, then I’ll show you around the station.” You announced, headed towards the exit. The blue haired male snapped out of his daze and raced after you.

“So what brings you here?” You asked, turning the corner and scanning the street before quickly crossing the road.

“You just jaywalked.” He brushed past your question. For some reason, his tone made you feel as if you’d just been convicted of murder. Your eyes darted around the block before turning to face him.

“And you have bright blue hair. Don’t point out the obvious. Besides, I don’t see any cops. What are you going to do, arrest me?” You rolled your eyes.

“My hair is perfectly fine- it was just a stupid dare, and anyway aren’t you supposed to be representing the station?”

“It’s not like I’m wearing a uniform or holding a sign screaming that I intern at the police department.” You pursed your lips. Why did he make you so nervous?

“Maybe not, but I am about to be a police chief.” He raised an eyebrow.

Your face went pale.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m assembling the best of the best to create Bangtan Police Department. We’re going to take the police world by storm.” His chest puffed slightly in pride. You only laughed, watching his expression deflate.

“Namjoon you are hilarious. You’re so young. Just get through this internship and think over it again.” You patted his arm and continued walking down the street. He gaped, once again having to catch up to you.

“Excuse me, I’m sure you’re actually younger than me! And it’s true, it’s going to be great!”

“What are you going to do? Call out every person who jaywalks?” A small smile slid onto your face. He was not as amused.

“I’m going to help with solving murder cases, cold cases, help the poor, anything.”

“Uh huh.” You opened the door to the cafe. “Got any people in mind?”

“I have a couple friends. Yoongi is already known as a top notch investigator and he’s training a rookie named Taehyung, but they’re on board with joining.”

“Min Yoongi? The person who helped solve the murders of Hyun and In-sun?” You tilted your head in interest.

The murders of Hyun and In-sun were a famous case in Korea. The case itself was filled with weird holes and inconsistencies, along with the fact that the local police had been bribed. In the end, the case had gone cold until Min Yoongi came in and solved it within a month. It was...extraordinary. There was something different in the way that man’s mind worked.

“Yeah!” Namjoon nodded enthusiastically. “My father trained him.”

You narrowed your eyes, not believing his story.

“Okay, okay, who else?”

“Well, my second in command will be my long term partner and friend, Kim Seokjin. He’s a reasonable man with experience in the field as a police officer and investigative reporter.”

“Interesting, continue.”

The drinks arrived, condensation dripping off the glasses.

“Well, that’s all I have so far. I’m planning on recruiting more once we get more well known.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Okay, let me get this straight, lover boy.” You ignored his flushed his face at the nickname you just appointed. “You have four people and you want to start the world’s best investigative slash police team.”

“Yes.” He said, his voice softer and you could tell he was losing his energy. “But I still need an analyst.” He gave you a pointed look.

With a sigh, you studied the man. He had potential, he just needed to cultivate it. With a little growing and pushing, he’d make a great police chief. You sipped your water, mulling over the idea. It was definitely enticing, to offer yourself to him once you were done with your studies, but he was looking for the best of the best.

“You should ask Mr. Jae-hwa.” You decided.

“Who?”

“My mentor. Surely he introduced himself.”

“Well yeah, I remember him I-” He sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, he’s your mentor, right? So why don’t you just...join?”

“I’m inexperienced.” You frowned. “I’ve only been an intern for a year and studying for two.”

“Once you graduate.” He amended. “I think we’d work well together.”

You chuckled, thinking over the opportunity. It was a risk. Every police department was looking for a good forensic analyst, you could find a good job at an established department if you wanted. Still, the offer he was giving you was enticing. Being partners with him didn’t even seem so bad. Namjoon had a hunger inside him. A hunger to prove himself and you could see him going the distance. You picked up your menu, a little smile gracing your lips. You shook your head with amusement.

“You’re too hungry, Namjoon.”

You had been busy. You were already working on several cases and had traveled out to Daegu to personally investigate a case. It was about a head found in a car, the body found a few days later in a house. There was lots of blood. You placed the cotton swab into a tube and sealed it up to test later. Then you maneuvered around the crime scene, trying to avoid all the police doing their jobs. You had a habit of trying to shrink, to stay out of everyone’s way as much as possible.

That’s when Namjoon called you. You frowned. Isn’t he in America? You glanced at the time. 4:15 P.M. You sighed, picking it up. Typical, for him to call in the middle of the night.

“Namjoon, why the fuck are you calling me? You know I’m busy, as I said, you could just send your samples to the forensic analyst back at Bangtan….are you doubting my team’s capabilities?” You scoffed at his urgent tone. “There’s no reason for an ‘on site’ analyst.”

You put him onto speaker phone and stepped into your car.

“Yeah, we also have murders over here, what makes you so special?”

“And here I remembered you being so nice.” His muffled voice came through the speaker.

“Excuse me! I am nice! I just don’t enjoy being pulled away, I have an important job to do here too.” You complained to him, indicating and turning left.

“Please!” A new voice came through the phone, audio cracking and popping from bad connection.

“Taehyung, is that you?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “The connection is so poor here.” You glanced at your samples.

You could send these to your team and join Namjoon and the others. It had been a little under a week since you last saw them and your skin was just itching to be near them again. Perhaps it was a silly little crush, or crushes if you factored in the fact that there were seven of them. You didn’t think it possible, but here you were, pining after seven of your coworkers.

“Fine!” You cried over their voices shouting into the phone. You parked in front of your hotel. You were already clearing your schedule and arranging for the samples to be sent to your team of analysts. “I’ll be there in two days, just please grab some blood swabs for me.” You huffed, hanging up.

You pressed your forehead to the wheel of the car, a sigh escaping your lips as you pressed your eyes shut. These boys were already giving you a headache and you weren’t even with them yet.

Two days later, a Tuesday, you set your bags down in the empty lobby of the Cape Springs police station. You arrived like the plague doctor, briefcase and everything, the fading sun behind you. The dust made you want to sneeze, your nose scrunching up as you fought the urge. You decided to go straight to the police station, y’know, for funsies; and also to surprise them. The hard suitcase that held your equipment was in hand as you sneakily made your way through the building.

You could hear the murmur of their voices and you turned right down a short hallway. There was an open door that led to a conference room with a large round table. Eight chairs were pulled up, one empty, a ninth chair in the corner occupied by a small looking girl. She was eagerly taking notes of the conversation.

“Once Y/N arrives, we can finally look over the samples. My best guess is Rohypnol but you never know, it could be something less traceable, like oxygen injected into the bloodstream.” Namjoon declared.

“But we’ve never found any discarded needles, that seems nonsensical.” Jimin pointed out.

“Rohypnol is a good guess, based on the reports you sent in.” You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. A sly smile graced your lips.

Startled, eight heads turned to face you. Seven smiles broke out.

“Y/N! You’re finally here!” Taehyung jumped up, Jungkook following suit. You opened your arms, used to their tag team hugs.

You peer over the taller men’s shoulders, just barely, to catch Namjoon smiling with, perhaps, relief. Jin was observing the sight, amusement evident in his posture, Hoseok was quick to wait behind Jimin who was also awaiting your hug. Then there was Yoongi who didn’t seem bothered at all, yielding no reaction.

You weren’t exactly disappointed, this was his usual behavior, but it was surprising. Time to fix that attitude. You had always been a motherly figure, despite your lack of interest in having children. The two younger ones pulled away and before Jimin and Hoseok could launch forward, you put up a hand to stop them.

“Yoongi.” You barked harshly, placing your hands on your hips. He groaned loudly, like a reluctant teenager. “Is that any way to greet your mother?” You frowned in mock disapproval. “Come give me a hug.” You opened your arms up to him and made a grabbing motion with your fingers.

“You’re not my mother, I’m way older than you.” He grumbled, standing and giving you a quick hug. You flushed proudly. Everyone, you included, knew Yoongi would follow your orders, begrudgingly, yes, but he would still follow them no matter what. He held a deep respect for you, despite being four years older. You never knew where it came from, but it was there.

After the awkward hug, Jimin and Hoseok embraced you. They giggled and easily snitched on the misbehavior of their friends, receiving annoyed shouts from the other boys.

“Taehyung!” You cried, horrified. “Is it true you’ve only been eating french toast for all your meals?!”

“That’s not completely true. I ate regular toast once when they were out of ingredients for french toast.” Taehyung said grimly, his face without a trace of humor. You just huffed and turned to the remaining people.

The girl was visibly startled by all the commotion and she stood next to Jin and Namjoon. A little too close. Your eyes narrowed, but you shook your head. You needed to focus on the task at hand.

There was still a twinge of jealousy. You were the only female in the inner circle, the best of the best. The eight wonders of the crime world. Each specializing in a different area, constantly called upon for the biggest of mysteries. Every single one, without fail, ended with a stamp on the file; Case solved.

“And who is this?” You tried to hide the slightest twinge of jealousy in your gut. She seemed to be a perfectly nice girl, a bit fragile looking, but someone with the face of an angel. She looks like she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“This is Hae-won.” Jungkook grinned. “She’s my age and she’s here to study the process!” He explained excitedly.

“That’s great, Jungkook. Lovely to meet you, Hae-won.” You passed off her slight narrowing of eyes to a trick of the light. After all, the sun was coming in low at this hour and it could have been shining in her eyes. You held up the hard suitcase that had your heavy equipment. “Where can I set up my equipment?”

“O-over here.” Hae-won stuttered, rushing ahead to show you the old forensic room. “We haven’t had the need for it in a while, I’m sorry it’s so dusty.” She apologized, dipping her head in embarrassment.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You bowed to her and she left the room to leave you to set up.

You took out your plastic test tubes, ziplocs, microscope, and petri dishes. Then you checked to make sure your camera wasn’t scratched before throwing open the blinds. The window was facing the opposite direction from the sun so all you could see was a long shadow hitting the building next door.

“Joonie?” You barked from your room. You made a note to pick up wipes to clean up the place.

“Yes?” His footsteps pounded down the hallway and then skidded to a halt outside the door.

“Did you get the blood samples like I asked?” You asked, a cheery tone to your voice.

“Yes, but can’t you wait? I know you’re a workaholic, but we’re heading out to the diner for some dinner.”

“No wonder you guys haven’t been able to solve anything.” You rolled your eyes.

“First of all!” Namjoon sputtered, “Betty’s diner has excellent food and second of all, we need to eat, unlike you. You’re like a vampire, you only need blood to survive.”

“I enjoy my work.” You said dryly, giving him a hard look, fingertips pressed together.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little too much.”

“If this is your way of asking me to live a little, I will have you know that my work is very fulfilling.” Especially when I get to work 24/7 with you guys.

Namjoon sighed and crossed his arms. “You will only get the samples once we go out for food. You will eat at all mealtimes and that’s an order.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, turning around to take out the last lense. “Who else is going to supervise that Tae gets a balanced diet?”

“That’s the spirit.”

He turned to leave, but he lingered in the doorway. His hand rested on the wooden door frame, tethering him to the room. You admired the way his smooth brown hair looked as it became dusk.

It had taken forever, but you had convinced him to stop dying it blue in college. It’s damaging the hell out of your roots and how is anyone going to take you seriously with vibrant blue hair? That’s what you had said. He had relented after some push back and now you were blessed to see his beautiful hazel brown hair.

“By the way, we missed you.” Namjoon murmured softly, you almost didn’t catch it. It was a surprise, but the fearless police chief had a soft voice, one that could easily be missed if you weren’t listening.

“I was gone for under a week before you needed my help.”

His lips quirked into a smile, hand slipping from the door frame as he retreated back to the meeting room.

You decided Hae-won didn’t talk much. You tried to engage her in conversation, but she had responded half-heartedly several times and you gave up trying to push it. A part of you had hoped you would become friends, maybe talk about something other than the murders. Because contrary to popular belief, you weren’t a complete workaholic. Which, now that you thought about it, Namjoon was being a huge ass hypocrite.

Whenever you were on a job with the other seven men, all they could talk about was the case and if they were going to drag you out to dinner, you didn’t want to be regaled with tales of disembodied heads and people being cut open. It just wasn’t polite.

“Hae-won, what did you order?” You asked, trying to include the girl who seemed to shrink with every passing minute.

She avoided your gaze, mumbling something to the table, or it may have been to you. You couldn’t tell because she refused to look anywhere except the ground.

“She said she ordered a burger.” Jungkook nodded at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“She can tell me that herself, yeah?” You didn’t mean it so harshly, it just came out that way.

“Hae-won is just a little shy!” Taehyung interjected, rushing to the girl’s defense. You just narrowed your eyes further.

“And what did you say she was studying to be?” You weren’t an interrogator or investigator by any means, but you had seen Yoongi and Taehyung at work before.

“An interrogation officer.” Yoongi drawled, taking a sip of his water and looking like he wished it were alcohol instead.

“Interesting.” You murmured. Maybe she was just nervous about meeting new people, but she would have to get over that quickly if she wanted to last.

“Oh yeah, I found something at the crime scene yesterday. I wanted to check again.” Jimin said, bringing the conversation back.

“And?” Namjoon looked expectantly at him.

“Well it was after we went to retrieve the samples for Y/N and…” He shook his head. “I think it’s better to discuss it in detail in the meeting tomorrow.” He sighed. “I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Too bad we didn’t bring in a forensic autopsy technician.” Taehyung sighed, head resting on Jimin’s shoulder.

It made the man tense, but Taehyung had never been good at reading the room. Namjoon kicked the poor boy under the table, making him jolt upright with an awkward chuckle. Small town, things are different here. It was like the token red dot in a sea of blue.

“I interned under a forensic autopsy technician. I don’t know much, but I understand the process.” You cracked your knuckles, already trying to recall the steps you’d seen Jae-hwa, your mentor, go through. Namjoon nodded along with your statement, having worked alongside you.

“Of course our very own specialist isn’t just experienced in one area.” Jungkook puffed his chest out and you tried to hide the flutter in your heart and the heat crawling up your neck.

“Can I visit the crime scene tomorrow?” You asked, though you would even if they told you no.

“Yes, of course. Do it before the meeting so you can discuss your findings.” Jin nodded.

“When is the meeting?” You were exhausted, jetlag wearing you down.

“2:00 P.M. tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You made a mental note of it. “I’ll be there. Would anyone like to join me?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin quickly raised his hand. “I’d like to check it out more.”

“I’ll go too.” Hoseok said, having not spoken much, which was odd for the hyper police officer.

He had spent the time whispering things to Hae-won. It looked like they were in their own little fantasy, their own fan club. For some reason, your blood began to boil at the thought. Calm down. It’s nothing. There’s nothing going on here. You’ve known these boys forever. If anyone is going to be with them, it’ll be you. The last sentence in your mental monologue made you internally slap yourself. How can you think like that? Just shut up and do your job.

Right, maybe your job could distract you from whatever feelings you had towards your incredibly handsome coworkers. Besides, they had a job to do too. The last thing on their minds should be their love life, so the same should apply to you.

“I have french toast?” The waiter asked. You turned your head to face Taehyung so fast you almost got whiplash.

“You bastard, you said you were getting the hamburger.”

He just grinned evilly and leaned over the table to take his plate.

You had seen plenty of dead bodies before, but usually it was easier when they were cleaned up. God, it was like no one understood how autopsies worked in this place. You couldn’t just deal with this bloodied corpse, you need to be able to see and analyse the wound.

Having Namjoon there helped you with your frustration as you swiped at the blood staining the victim’s, Hak-kun, neck. You ignored the goosebumps that broke out when your finger brushed over his very cold and very dead skin. Namjoon looked more disturbed while you held a calm facade.

Right, he’d seen Hak-kun alive and breathing just days prior. The man had seen him warm and full of blood pumping through his heart. The contrast must be disconcerting.

“Namjoon, you really don’t have to be here.” You said softly. You may be a dumb ass sometimes when it came to emotions, but you weren’t heartless. Besides, you could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off him.

Ever the brave chief, he shook his head and took a step closer.

“It’s fine, really.” He swallowed thickly in a way that screamed definitely not fine. “I want to help.”

He could be a real help, you knew that, but your guilt won out. “No it’s okay, I insist. Actually, it would be better if you left while I examined the body.”

“I don’t believe you.” There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Okay, fine, but just stand where you won’t be in the way and take note of everything I say.” You quickly amend. Once Namjoon pulls the ‘I don’t believe you’ card, there’s no escaping his words.

“Alright.” He seemed content with that.

You picked up your scissors to get ready to cut away at the dirtied fabric. You took another moment to look at him. He was standing dutifully, a pen and notepad in hand. He waited expectantly.

“If this becomes too much for you to watch, I won’t fault you for leaving.” Your eyes clouded over in sympathy. He scoffed.

“You underestimate your chief.”

“If you say so.” You then set to cutting away the strips of cloth that covered the abdomen. You took a moment to search for bruising. You found none. “No bruising visible on abdomen, though I speculate there are some on the back, according to Jimin’s description.” Your voice was monotone, calm, without a single waver.

“The neck has been cut deep. I can guess that the killer is experienced. It’s a clean cut, straight down and cutting through the sternocleidomastoid.” You leaned down, surveying for any other nicks.

“I see no other points of contact, the neck being the only surface bloodied. No extra cuts, it’s not messy.” You rolled the body over and cut away the back. Your eyebrows furrowed together. Your lack of speaking caused Namjoon to look up.

He eyed the bruises warily as you moved more cloth aside.

“There is severe bruising along the vertebrae.” You dictated, eyeing the dark spots along the spine. “Most likely caused by dragging. There are other bruises, they look roughly the size of fingerprints.”

You took out the tape set on the tray beside you and pressed a strip to one of the dark spots. “I’ll analyse this, see if there’s any fingerprints. From where they’re located and from the bruising, I can guess that the killer is smaller in stature. Most likely having to drag the victim to his final resting place, unable to support his weight.” You thought for a moment. “That’s enough for now.”

You cut some fabric and placed them in ziploc bags. Then you wheeled the body back into a cold storage unit. You cleaned up your workstation and then left Namjoon trailing behind you.

“How did you figure all that out?” He asked after a moment.

“Those are just my guesses, they aren’t the law.” You smiled gently. “I’m trained to give my best guesses.” You walked ahead. “Now, let’s go visit that crime scene.”

The ground was free of blood. You had even gotten on your stomach to check and found nothing. This could only mean that Hak-kun was murdered in his car. That also made little sense and his positioning was confusing as well. He had been resting against the dashboard, looking peacefully asleep. It was also odd how he even managed to get into his car. A small town like this didn’t have security cameras up and around so that could give no answers.

The only traces of blood were in the car. Drugs must have played a part in this, why else didn’t he fight back? Your stomach turned. This was definitely an odd case. The murders were cold, calculated, well thought out and tracks well covered. It was exceptionally easy to get away with these in such a small town.

You arrived back at the police station to see if your samples were done. They were, and the results were not surprising. Rohypnol. Most commonly known as the date rape drug, it acted fast to immobilize an unsuspecting person. You printed out the results, because thank god they had wifi here at least, and left for the meeting.

The meeting room wasn’t big and with nine of you in it, the walls were suffocatingly close.

“Okay, let’s begin.” Namjoon said as everyone settled into their seats. Hae-won took the seat in the corner. “Jimin, start.”

The detective nodded to his superior and turned to grab his briefcase off the floor. He placed it on the table with a thump. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath. The pink haired man pulled on blue plastic gloves and took out a plastic bag. Inside of it was a beret. It was black with a little gold button in the center. It could be considered cute if it wasn’t found at a murder sight.

“I was looking around and I accidentally bumped open the glove compartment. I found this.” He explained, pulling it out with a gloved hand and turning it to show everyone. Hae-won let out a small gasp.

“That’s mine!” She squeaked. “It went missing a few days ago.”

You exchanged a worried look with your coworkers. Carefully, you placed your files on the table and stood. You crouched in front of her, the men watching you. You placed your hands on hers; she was trembling.

“Hae-won, love.” You smiled softly. “You realize this incriminates you, yes?”

She shook her head violently and pulled her hands away from you. In her eyes, you didn’t see any sign of a killer. You only saw a scared girl, a shaking, terrified out of her mind, girl.

“I-I didn’t-didn’t-” She stuttered, breathless.

Jungkook quickly jumped up, rushing over to comfort the girl. You were pushed aside and you tried your best to keep a frown off your face. You settled for an impassive look.

“Y/N! How could you suggest such a thing, can’t you see Hae-won wouldn’t even hurt a fly. She’s scared of walking home alone at night, you think she’s going to murder five people?” Jungkook seethed. You ignored the rage boiling in your stomach.

“It’s proper procedure, she needs to know.” You tutted.

“And you’re being heartless.” Jungkook hissed. You were taken aback, lips pressing into a thin line.

“I’m doing my job, Jeon.” You said coldly. “Listen, I read the case file, I know you found Hak-kun’s tie and then he was murdered, so there’s a possibility that these talismans are a sign of who is next.” You pointed to the beret as you spoke, trying to shrug off your pain.

“In that case, we need Hae-won under constant surveillance when Saturday rolls around.” Jin said. Instantly they all looked to Hoseok.

“What? Why me?” The man furrowed his eyebrows.

“Have you forgotten? You’re one of the only formally trained and active police officers we have. Jin is too old.” Yoongi smirked.

“Excuse me!” Jin gaped, mouth opening and closing to find a response.

“And if she is the murderer, then we can watch her carefully.” Namjoon turned to you, seeing if this placated you. It wasn’t like you needed to be satisfied by any agreement. You were just doing your damn job, why couldn’t they?

“I have no problem with that.” You sat down in your chair. “Anyway,” You opened your file as the room went back to order. “I found, very obviously, traces of Rohypnol. The victim was definitely drugged, the question is how.”

“All the evidence we have is the glass of spilt water we found. I can only guess he took it voluntarily.” Jin pointed out.

“Well, didn’t he mention having a headache in that tape? He could have easily been convinced.” Jimin leaned back, crossing his arms. There was a tense silence as everyone worked to put pieces together.

“There has to be a motive, there hasn’t to be a reason these people are connected.” You drummed your fingers on the table restlessly.

You didn’t want to be suspicious of Jin, but you were. If he wasn’t the murderer, was it possible he was involved with them? He was the last one in the surveillance room. You didn’t want to accuse him and you were busy denying it to yourself, but it was a possibility. Surely, Yoongi and Taehyung had thought of it as well and brushed it off.

“Hyung, don’t you think that it’s odd that the footage was looping.” Jungkook turned to Jin. “Isn’t security footage one of your specialties? You stayed late, you didn’t notice that he was looping?”

The second in command narrowed his eyes at the young male. “Are you suggesting I have something to do with this?”

There was an intense stare off as they glared at each other. Namjoon reached up to put a hand on his partner’s shoulder and Taehyung frowned at Jungkook. These seven men were the only ones you could trust in a case, what happens when that comes into question? The distrust would run rampant. Namjoon must have been on the same thought line as you because he broke the stare off by clearing his throat.

“Absolutely not, it would make no sense and Seokjin has been nothing but loyal all these years. He has no motive and he’s a trustworthy man.”

“I just think it’s something to ponder over.” The glorified coffee boy said.

“No. We don’t throw accusations around like that, Jeon.” Yoongi turned to scold the maknae. The boy simply shrugged, swiping his bangs off his face.

“It’s odd, that’s all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the redness of Seokjin’s face.

Your eyes surveyed the room, noting the tense posture of Jin, the frown still plastered on Taehyung’s lips, the laid back nature of Yoongi, Hoseok’s arm around Jimin, and you decided to break it up.

“Okay, that’s enough. Apologize, Jeon.” You said sternly. The young man, who had been so confident a second before, now looked like a kicked puppy.

“I’m doing my job.”

“You don’t have a job here.” Namjoon drawled.

Jungkook’s face lit up red, embarrassment taking over.

“Yah! We let you sit here and then you go and accuse our second!” Taehyung shouted, jumping up. Jungkook scrambled back as the tall man stalked over to him.

“Kim Taehyung, sit the fuck back down.” You hissed. “And you too, Jungkook.”

They both halted immediately and sat back down. Taehyung swallowed.

“You guys are acting like children.” You huffed. “Now, let me continue.” You took out some papers and shuffled them. “First, it was a clean job. The stroke was purposeful along the jugular. There were no other signs of struggle except the bruises on his back, which could be attributed to being dragged along the pavement. I found no other DNA except Hak-kun’s.” You read.

“The killer was very clean indeed.” Namjoon responded, everyone remained silent. The tensions falling over the room like a thick blanket.

“Okay, I can’t think in this tension. You guys work your shit out, I’m going to look over the tapes again.” Yoongi stood and promptly left.

Your eyes trailed his figure as he stormed down the hall. The door to the room currently dubbed the ‘investigator’s nest’ slammed shut. Taehyung sighed and some of the tension left the room when he stood as well.

“I better go check up on him and work through some files.” He announced, not waiting for Namjoon to dismiss him before he left. You could hear him padding softly down the hall and knocking on the door.

The others gradually stood, making up some excuse or another before it was just you, sitting dumbfounded along with Namjoon, and Hae-won. There was a long, drawn out, silence that stretched between you three. You were an unlikely trio with no Jungkook to bridge the gap. You just stood and left, no further words needed. Besides, you wanted to test for fingerprints on the fabric.

Down the hallway, to the left, the Investigator’s Nest was closed to prying eyes. Taehyung sat on the floor, surrounded by old case files and manila folders. Yoongi sat at the desk, earbuds in as he listened to the tapes once more.

“You know, hyung, no matter how many times you listen to those tapes, nothing new is going to come up. Hak-kun obviously isn’t guilty.” Taehyung said, picking up a paper and reading it. The head investigator didn’t look up from the screen, but he did take an earbud out.

“I don’t think he’s guilty, I’m just wondering if he knew who it was. Maybe that’s why he so willingly took the drugs, maybe he recognized them.”

“You and I have both listened to those tapes so many times I could recite every line from memory.” Taehyung grumbled. He stretched out his legs, avoiding the neat stacks he had littered around.

“I know, I know.” Yoongi sighed and lightly slapped his face to stay awake. His eyes hurt.

“And we both know that he doesn’t mention anyone other than Mun-hee.”

“Maybe he was working with the killer?”

“Why would he be dead now then?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Hyung…” The younger male stood and walked over standing behind him. His slender fingers started kneading Yoongi’s shoulders.

Taehyung had been feeling lonely, just a little. Though Yoongi and him slept together, the older man rarely showed his affections. It was the opposite to Taehyung’s openly affectionate personality. Now that they were in a small town, the prejudice was palpable everytime they hugged so Yoongi had basically cut him off from that as well.

“What’s wrong, Tae?” Of course he knew something was up with his young lover.

Yoongi had learned over the years how Taehyung ticked, how he functioned. He knew he had been somewhat neglectful, but he was more concerned about being beat up if the town found out about them.

“You know you haven’t kissed me since we arrived at the airport?” Taehyung murmured in Yoongi’s ear. It would be seductive if Taehyung didn’t genuinely want a kiss. Instead, it came across more whiny.

The investigator sighed and turned around in his chair to look over the taller man. He placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that really all you want?” He fought to keep the flush off his face.

Taehyung nodded wordlessly, leaning down, but Yoongi spotted an odd file on the ground. He moved his head, causing Taehyung to shout in anguish as he just missed his lips.

“In a moment, Tae.” Yoongi stood abruptly, causing Taehyung to stumble back a few steps.

The other man looked hurt, opening his mouth to say something when he saw Yoongi bend down to pick up a file. The head investigator opened the file, flipping through it until he suddenly stopped.

“What is it, Yoongs?” Taehyung peered over the man’s shoulder, but he turned the other way. With a huff, he stood back, studying Yoongi’s face.

“I found something interesting.” His eyes were focused on one spot, one picture.

A girl, her throat slit, blood pooling on the dashboard. She looked like she fell asleep at the wheel. Her hair splayed around her head, soaked in her own red liquid. His eyes trailed up the page. It was dated two years before. The picture was labeled ‘People V.S. Paek Cho, exhibit A’. He flipped to the next page. There was a newspaper article cut out. He examined it, frowning.

“Farmer Chung-hee’s daughter, Joo-Eun, found dead in her car, Rohypnol in her system. Officers claim there was no sign of sexual trauma, however. Paek Cho, an accomplished student and outstanding citizen is convicted of her murder…” Yoongi murmured, reading over the article.

“....Father had to be dragged out of the room by officers once the sentence was read out. An anonymous friend of Joo-Eun testifies against Paek Cho, stating ‘he always gave them the creeps’. Paek Cho receives one year of community service after being convicted of collusion in the murder, but in the end there was not enough evidence to convict the young man of first degree murder or even manslaughter.” He stopped, reading the last sentence in his mind. It’s odd, considering the amount of indisputable evidence stacked against Mr. Paek. His mind was racing with possibilities.

These murders and the murder of Joo-Eun held a shocking resemblance. It could be a way to get back at the town, but the only person mentioned who would have such a motive would be Chung-hee, the farmer, and no one in town had even mentioned him. He threw the file onto the desk.

“Taehyung, tell me what you see.”

The dark haired man picked up the file and flipped through it. “Oh.” was all he said.

His eyes were surveying the same picture, the article, everything.

“Why is the file so empty?” He murmured. He then skipped to the last few pages. “Wait.” He took out the article and placed it carefully down. The paper was old and worn.

“What is it?” Yoongi leaned over, placing his hands on the desk.

“It says here that Mun-hee was a juror at the trial, so was our Jane Doe.” Taehyung pointed to their names.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped up to meet Taehyung’s.

“Taehyung, we need those court documents, now.”

Slam. A thick binder of papers was dropped onto the desks. Jin looked up from his studies, Namjoon leaning over him as they spoke in hushed voices. Jimin was joking about something with Hoseok and Hae-won, who was now under 24/7 surveillance. You stood to the side, talking to Jungkook about your results and also trying to give him some pointers on holding his tongue.

Everyone’s eyes trailed to Taehyung and Yoongi’s panting forms in the doorway then to the binder on the desk. Dust flew from underneath, making Taehyung cough, the sound turning to a wheeze because of how out of breath he was.

“Did you guys just run a marathon or something?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Y/N. You know I would never put myself through such torture.” Yoongi scoffed.

“We went to town hall to retrieve some court documents.” Taehyung explained quickly. He then went on to explain their previous discussion in detail, Yoongi chiming in every so often.

“Hae-won, are you alright?” Namjoon interrupted, looking at the trembling girl. She looked like she was panicking, sweat beading on her forehead.

“It’s just not right! They let Cho off so easily, it’s not justice, it’s against everything the law stands for.” She cried out, literally shaking with rage as she spoke. You, along with everyone else, were surprised by her outburst. Hae-won was a curious creature, hm?

“Were you a part of the case?” You prodded, subtly asking why she was so worked up. There would be no other reason for these emotions.

She had such bitterness apparent in her eyes. You watched her carefully, eyes drinking in her movements. You took note of the slightest twitch in her fingers, the crescent prints she left in the palms of her hands, the way her lips tugged downwards.

“N-no.” She said, her voice reverted to the quiet girl you all knew her as. She sat back down, taking in a shaky breath. “I just love this town, this is a sore spot for a lot of the good people in town.” She said sweetly.

“But you knew the jury members?” Jin asked.

“Yes, I...I went to school with them. We were seniors, a lot of us were 18 and the town is small, they don’t have a big pool of choices for jury members.” She explained.

“Right.” Yoongi nodded, seemingly understanding. He then turned his attention to the file in front of him and you did the same. “It looks like, just as we suspected, Hak-kun, Mun-hee, Jane Doe, and the two previous murders were jury members.”

“Poor Chung-hee was never the same after that trial.” Hae-won suddenly said, her voice ladened with pain. “He lives alone now, outside of town; doesn’t speak to anyone, refuses to even look the folks here in the eye.”

Once again, your attention drifted back to Hae-won.

“Did you know her, Joo-Eun?” You asked the girl.

“Yeah, but only a little. We went to the same high school, but she was always nice!” Hae-won said. “I just remember once she came out to meet me when I was about to head home. It was winter and the sun set early, you know? So anyway, it was getting dark and I remember how she grabbed my arm, her face pale. She said to me ‘I think someone is following me, please walk home with me.’ I didn’t think much of it. We don’t have any creepers, you know? But Paek Cho was always off.” She shrugged. Then suddenly she looked stricken, like she didn’t mean to say that much. The dark haired girl covered her face with her hands.

“Can you tell us anything else?” You asked softly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-I don’t remember. I think she asked me to walk her home from a party once but I refused.” She sighed. “Then she was dead the next day. I was too busy studying for my finals.”

She may have been a harmless bystander, but it was obvious this weighed on her. “I often think about how I was the last person she contacted. I barely knew her and suddenly I was roped in.” She looked close to tears so you went over and hugged her.

The others remained silent, watching the interaction. Namjoon felt his heart flutter when you made eye contact with him. He couldn’t help imagining your arms wrapped around him.

“You said Chung-hee remained outside of town?” Namjoon questioned, not daring to take a step. He was worried he would throw off the delicate balance of tension in the room.

“Yes, but he’s not the murderer! He wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’s just a little grumpy, a real loner.” Hae-won cried.

“How are you connected with him, Hae-won?” Yoongi asked, his voice gentle, but prying.

“I’ve just-I used to buy my produce fresh from him.” She answered easily. “He was always kind.”

Yoongi nodded at her response.

“Jungkook, please take Hae-won out for some fresh air. It’s stuffy and dusty in here, it can’t be helping the situation.” Jin said factually. Jungkook nodded, despite their earlier differences, he still listened to his superior.

Once they were gone, you all stared at each other.

“Okay, I’ll say it then.” Taehyung broke the silence. “Chung-hee is the most obvious suspect here. He fits all the descriptions, he has a motive, he doesn’t speak to anyone in town.”

“But Hae-won said-” Hoseok began.

“I don’t give a rats ass about what Hae-won said.” Yoongi interrupted. “We need to investigate him.”

“It just doesn’t feel right. Something about it isn’t right, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, I suppose.” Hoseok relented. You noted that he spent a lot of time giving in to the others. It could be that he had an inferiority complex, being seen as your run of the mill police officer.

“Hoseok, you have opinions too, we’re okay with hearing them out, right Yoongi?” Jimin seemed to follow your thoughts.

“Uh, uh, right.” Hoseok murmured, suddenly bashful now that the spotlight was on him.

He realized that he so rarely was asked what he thought. The man spent a lot of time just following their orders; he trusted them wholly and completely. His faith had never wavered in his partners, his coworkers, his lovers. It felt unreasonable, rude, and downgrading if he tried to bring up his lowly opinions; as if he was tainting their genius by bringing his own stupidity into it. After all, he never finished college. He went straight to the police academy, deciding school just wasn’t for him.

“I just, Chung-hee doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to-to do such a petty thing.” He tried to explain his gut feeling.

“We don’t know what kind of person he is, yet, Hobi.” Jin narrowed his eyes, almost accusing him of colluding with the murderer.

Once again, Hoseok was reminded of his inferiority. Of course, of course. But then an angel sang and came to his defense.

“I have to agree with Hobi.” You said firmly. “My mind is saying ‘it’s obviously him’, but my gut is telling me no.”

Hoseok was...shocked. No one really defended him in these sorts of discussions. It felt out of character for you to do such a thing, often found laughing alongside the others.

“As much as I respect your gut, Y/N.” Taehyung began, a condescending tone dripping from his words, “This is our job. We can’t just not investigate people who are obviously linked to a crime.”

“But in what way? Because this poor man’s daughter was murdered two years ago? You think that’s enough to implicate him in a crime today?”

“No! But you’re missing the point!” Taehyung hissed, running a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t be a big deal if the crime wasn’t exactly the same.”

You sighed, giving up your fight as your gut twisted. Poor Chung-hee, a farmer who probably just wanted to live his life and get far away from the law, was about to be dragged into another mess.

“Hoseok, go get Kookie and Hae-won. We leave tomorrow.” Namjoon’s eyes were cold, not a hint of emotion betrayed in his stance. “Dismissed.”

You turned away, taking Hoseok’s arm in yours.

“I hope you’re doing the right thing, Namjoon.” Venom fell from your lips. You turned away and followed Hoseok out the door.

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Taglist: @lovelyseomin

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arrow-guy · 4 years

Text

Broken Flock (6/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Please understand that the end of this chapter will be quite heavy and potentially triggering for some people,. Please read at your own discretion and forgive me for the ending. That is all.

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Heights, falling, drugging, passing out

Part 5

“(Y/N),” Clint mumbles. He shakes my shoulder and I groan. “(Y/N), there’s someone at the door.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone’s knocking,” he mumbles.

Clint rolls over and goes back to sleep. I sit up and glare at him before rubbing my eyes and shoving myself up from the bed. It takes a moment for the knocking sounds to reach my ears and I scrub my hands over my face in frustration. I suddenly find myself wishing I hadn’t taken down my “No Solicitation” sign.

They knock harder and louder and I can’t stop myself from yelling, “Knock it off! You bang any harder, you’re gonna have to marry the fucking door, or some shit.”

The knocking doesn’t die down and I swing the door open only to immediately freeze. Steve stands out in the hallway with Natasha at his side.

“(Y/N),” he says.

“Aw, fuck.”

I slam the door closed and immediately run back to my bedroom. Clint still hasn’t moved and stirs slightly when my wings brush against him as I race past. I grab my bag from the chair in the corner and yank the window open. Clint sits up and blinks against the afternoon light, confused.

“Why’re you climbing out the window?”

“Steve and Nat were at the door.” I flatten my wings against my back, but can’t seem to fit through the window. “Gonna fuckin kill me if they catch me.”

“Why?”

“Slammed the door in their faces.”

Clint covers his face with his hands and flops back down onto the bed with a groan. “This is it. This is the day I die.”

“Not yet.”

I whip around to find Natasha and Steve stepping into the room. I sigh heavily and drop my bag to the floor. Steve folds his arms across his chest and Natasha follows suit.

"I'm surprised Bucky's not here," Natasha continues.

"He got stuck at the tower last night with work. Otherwise, he would be," Clint explains. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks directly at her. "What're you doing here, Nat?"

"You weren't home, figured we'd try the one other place you've been known to disappear to." She looks very pointedly at me and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why didn’t you tell us you were back?”

“Because I’m not,” I answer. “I’m in town. That’s it.”

“We know you were up near the Compound last week, (Y/N),” Steve says. “Why were you anywhere near there if you’re not back?”

“Bucky took me upstate to stretch my wings. It’s harder to do so unnoticed in the city.”

“Why were you near the compound?”

“What is this with this interrogation?” Steve simply raises his eyebrows, silently telling me to answer the question. I sigh and shake my head. “I got a little off course and didn’t realize where I was until it was too late. I redirected as soon as I saw the first building, but even then I was probably half a mile away, maybe more.”

‘I see.“

“How’d you know it was me anyway?”

“Asked Sam what got picked up on the scanner. He said it was just a big bird,” Steve explains. “But, you’re way too big a blip to just be a big bird.”

“No, she’s a big ass bird,” Clint corrects. “Massive difference.”

“Clint, you’re not helping,” I say. I perch on the bed beside him and he reaches out and places his hand on my knee. “Still doesn’t explain why you decided to make the trip out here to see us.”

“We just wanted to see you for ourselves, (Y/N),” Natasha says. “It’s been two years. You can hardly blame us for needing to double check.”

“Could’ve just asked.”

“You say that like you would’ve actually answered.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask me. Clint and Bucky are more than capable of giving you the information.” I press my lips together. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back.”

“Then why did you come back?” Natasha asks.

“Because I missed my idiots.”

“Aw,” Clint squeezes my knee. “You’re so nice, (Y/N).”

“Nah, I’m an asshole. Everyone knows it.”

“Mm, yeah, but we’ve always hoped for better from you,” he says, dumb smile on his face.

I snort. Everyone’s head turns when the door opens and shuts. Keys clatter against the kitchen counter and I sigh in relief.

“(Y/N)? You here?”

“In the bedroom!” I call back.

Bucky wanders into the room, yanking his sweatshirt over his head. Clint laughs when he nearly crashes into Steve. He just barely misses, but looks around in confusion when he can finally see again.

“The hell is this?” he asks, gesturing between Steve and Natasha.

“She couldn’t get through the window fast enough,” Clint explains.

“Clint, that’s even more confusing,” Bucky says.

Clint gestures with a flourish. “I live to serve.”

Bucky shakes his head and skirts around Steve and Natasha before crawling onto the bed and sprawling out between Clint and I. I squawk at him about having his shoes on my duvet and he kicks them off onto the floor. He shuffles up the bed and props his chin up on my calf. I comb my fingers through his hair and he sighs and melts into the mattress.

“We’re fine here, guys,” Clint says. “(Y/N) is working on her own deal, and Bucky and I are still obviously engaged with the team. Our priorities haven’t changed.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks.

“Nat, we spent two years looking for her and now we’re coming home to her at the end of the day. So, yeah,” he glances over at me and smiles. “I’m sure.”

“Fine.” She grabs Steve’s arm and steers him out of the room. “We’ll see you bright and early on Monday, then.”

Bucky and Clint wave to them as they leave and, only when the door closes for the final time, do we allow ourselves to fully relax. I coax Bucky onto his side and shimmy down the bed to lie beside him. He wraps his arms around me and keeps his metal arm held tight to my body while stroking one of my wings with the other to avoid pinching.

“So it seems like you guys’ve had an eventful day,” Bucky mumbles against my shoulder.

“(Y/N) slammed the door in their faces,” Clint says.

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah. Then she tried to climb out the window to get away, but her wings are too big and she can’t get through this one.”

“No, my wings are fine,” I correct. “The window’s too small.”

“Ah, ” Bucky hums. “Blaming windows, now, are we?”

I flick his ear and he laughs. “I am not blaming windows.”

“Then what are you blaming?”

“Myself for not finding a bigger window.”

“Oh, duh, obviously.”

I shake my head and press a little closer to his chest and reach out for Clint with one hand. Clint takes it and laces our fingers together. Clint curls himself around Bucky’s back and asks him about his day. Bucky complains about being stuck at the Tower the entire day yesterday, forced to sit in an hours long conference with General Ross, debating the viability and sustainability of the proposed Sokovia Accords. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Rhodey had entered the call having read everything in the packets they’d been provided multiple times and had essentially been talked at and over the entire time they were in the conference. By the end of it, even Tony was starting to lose his cool, and he’d gone into the call most willing to comply with the Accords.

“So Ross acted like he wasn’t talking to a handful of the world's most dangerous people?” I ask.

“I could pop that guys head like a pimple, and he acted like I was a dumb little three year old,” Bucky says. “Steve was able to stay calm enough to get in contact with a few other people who helped draft the Accords and we were allowed to write up our own edits, but we have twenty four hours to do so.”

Clint sighs. “What time did you manage to get to sleep last night?”

“Five in the morning, I think. Can’t really remember. We worked in shifts with the rewrites, so I think Stark and Rhodes are working on it right now. Steve’s gonna have Nat go back through and see if there’s anything she’d add before we throw the damn thing at the General’s fuckin head.”

“I could help, if you want,” I offer. "I've got great aim."

Bucky laughs. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure that'd get us into more trouble than we're already in."

“Ah, well, maybe next time then.”

Clint snorts. “You two hungry at all?”

“Eh,” Bucky responds. “I could eat. (Y/N)?”

I shrug. "I'll probably want something by the time we finish cooking."

Clint grins at me over Bucky's shoulder. "Great. What's on the menu, guys?"

Tuesday morning, the door flies open at exactly 10:35. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen, breakfast in hand, and nearly drop the bowl at the sound of the front door slamming into the wall.

"Hope you're decent, cause I'm coming in anyway!" a familiar voice calls.

I groan and put my breakfast on the counter. “Go home, Tony!”

He appears from the entryway and grins. “That’s no way to treat a guest, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t invite you!”

“I’m happy to see you, too.”

I roll my eyes. “Why are you here?”

He walked through the apartment, looking around, his head tilted to the side. “Heard my favorite winged killing machine was back in town, and I had to see it for myself.” He frowns at my furniture before he looks back at me. “You still live in this dump?”

“It’s not a dump, it’s my home. Clint does a great job of maintaining this place.”

“It’s a run down tenement building.”

“It’s an old ass brick building in the middle of New York City. It’s holding together as best it can. That doesn’t mean it’s a dump.” I lean against the counter and silently beg him to leave. “If you just wanted to see if I was here, you’d buzz by in one of your suits, but that’s not the case. So, why are you actually here?”

“So suspicious.” He tuts and shakes his head. “What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t have a lot of normal friends.”

“Did you get meaner while you were gone?”

“Tony, you broke into my home. I’m allowed to be a little mean.”

He sighs and his shoulders slump slightly. “Fine, I need someone to talk to, and I know you won’t judge me.”

“Why didn’t you call ahead? I’m assuming Steve and Nat told everyone I’m back.”

“I figured you’d find some way to be out when I showed up.”

“Tony, I have a job and I work from home. This is the only place I’d be.”

“A job?”

“Yes, a job.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Will you at least hear me out?”

“I don’t know, Tony, I’ve got a lot to do today…” He hits me with his puppy-dog look and I cave immediately. “Fine, you can stay. But you have to let me work while you talk.”

“Won’t that distract you?”

“No, I need external stimulus when I work sometimes. Usually that’s music, but I guess you’ll do.”

Tony launches into a long explanation of the issues with the Accords while I set up my work stuff for the day. I interject where I can and he seems surprised when I manage to keep up. I simply finish my breakfast and do the dishes before starting on work for the day. When Tony starts pacing, I turn slightly on the couch so that I can face him. After a bad experience with Bruce a few years back, Tony needs to know that the person he’s talking to is paying attention.

Tony keeps at it for three hours before he stops to ask for a glass of water and starts up again when he’s hydrated. By the end, I’m starting to understand how Bruce could fall asleep while Tony talks.

“Does that make sense?” Tony asks.

“Honestly, I totally get where you’re coming from, but none of that shit in Sokovia was your fault.”

“I don’t know...”

“Tony, you did what you could when it was happening, and even more after the dust settled. There’s no going back to fix that now. But do you honestly think that the Accords are a good idea? I mean, Bucky was talking to Clint and I about them a few days ago and they sound awful. Like literal grade-A bullshit.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know about you, but if I were being attacked on the street, I’d want someone to help me right then and there, not ask their boss for permission first. What if people are in danger and your superiors decide that they’re not a priority?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And on top of that, people like me, people with powers and shit, just minding our own business, could potentially have to sign. If we don’t we could face prison time.” I sigh. “I’m not saying you’re wrong on any account, because it’d be great if the Avengers could get help from government agencies again, but I don’t think this is the right way to do it. Especially when you’re so used to being your own boss.”

“Right, but-”

“Tony, you asked for my opinion. I’m not gonna tell you that I’m one hundred percent right, this is just how I feel. I know that Steve and Bucky are pretty on the fence with the Accords as well.”

“That’s true.”

“I know Ross sent your revisions back, but you have to keep pushing this until they give up on the document, or you get your way. Just… whatever happens, you have to stick to your guns.”

“Right. I need to trust my gut.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The front door opens and Tony and I both look to see who it is.

“(Y/N), we’re back!” Clint calls.

“Oh, so he can come and go as he pleases, but I show up and you’re mad?”

“He has a key, and he’s not breaking down my door. Yes he can come and go as he pleases.”

Clint and Bucky stop short as they enter the living room.

“Didn’t realize you’d have company today,” Bucky says.

“I didn’t realize I’d have company today,” I shoot back. “He invited himself in.”

“That’s not nice, Tony,” Clint admonishes. “You know how private she is.”

Tony scowls. “I needed her advice!”

“Call ahead next time.”

Tony shakes his head and pushes himself up from the chair he eventually settled in. “I’ll take this as my cue to leave.” He stops just before he reaches the entryway. “Will we be seeing you around at all?”

I shake my head. “Probably not, no.”

“Shame.” He waves over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

The front door closes one last time and I close my laptop and lie down on the couch. Clint sits on the floor in front of me and places my laptop on the coffee table.

“How long was he here?” he asks.

“Hours. Literal hours. He wanted to talk about the Accords.”

“Seriously?”

“I think he’s kind of waffling on his stance with the whole thing. Blames himself for the stuff that they’re citing as the reasons behind the Accords. But that’s bullshit, because they’ve probably been trying to figure out a way to put a leash on people like us for years, Sokovia was just the catalyst.” I turn over onto my front and sigh. “I don’t wanna be someone’s therapist!”

“Definitely not a good idea. You’re not qualified.”

“Super not qualified!” I cry.

“Well,” Bucky says. “He’s gone now, so we might as well chill out and have dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?” I ask.

“Takeout from the Chinese place down the street.”

“Ooh,” I push myself up from the couch. “I love their sweet and sour pork.”

Bucky smirks. “I know you do.”

I bound over to the kitchen and hug him tightly. “You’re the best.”

He laughs and I squeal when he hooks his hands under my thighs and picks me up. “I know I am.”

“Alright, strongman, put me down. Dinner’s getting cold, and Clint’s probably hungry.”

Bucky lets go and kisses the side of my head as soon as my feet touch the floor. We grab plates and flatware and set up the food around the coffee table. We eat and talk and laugh, and Clint eventually misses his dog and goes back to his apartment to get Lucky. Bucky leaves on a mission in the morning and has to go back to the tower. I go to bed alone.

Over the next week I see a pretty steady stream of old friends waltzing through my door. Sam drops in on Thursday to apologize again and overstays his welcome by two hours. Bruce stops by on Friday to drop off a tin of tea and a book he’d been holding onto since I left. I refuse to turn him away and ask if he wants to stay and stare a pot of tea. We talk for a few hours and I hug him before he leaves. Saturday sees Wanda, Natasha, and Rhodey in quick succession and I take to hiding in Clint’s apartment because I don’t have either him or Bucky through the weekend to act as a buffer. Bucky and Clint leave for a long mission Sunday night and by Tuesday, I’m able to go back to work in my own apartment. I finish my final project by four in the evening and let myself relax for the rest of the night.

Wednesday morning, I wake up restless and decide to go flying. I pack myself snacks and water and leave a note for Clint and Bucky in case they’re back before I am. Before I leave I drop by Clint’s apartment to feed and love on Lucky for a little bit. When I’m thoroughly covered in his hair, I say goodbye and head up to the roof for takeoff.

Flying through the city is different from the country. I have to fly higher than I’d like in order to get out of the smog, and even then I have to worry about avoiding buildings. For all it’s wonders, New York City feels like a bunch of hazards all shoved together and populated past it’s bounds. But still, it’s home. Apparently.

I decide to see how far I can get before my body forces me to turn around, and I get distracted enough while flying north that, without realizing it, I reach the field that Bucky took me to a couple weeks back. It looks just about the same as I remember it, even as the early morning fog dissipates. I take a couple of laps around the field before I decide to move on.

As I near the treeline, something hurtles towards me, and I just barely manage to dodge it before it hits me. I glance over my shoulder, and assume it was a drone or something when I can’t see what it was. I shrug and fly out over the forest. Something comes at me again, this time hitting the primary feathers of my right wing and coating them in a thick, heavy substance. I lose altitude immediately and try to shake whatever it is off. The substance won’t budge, and my left wing is soon hit with another projectile. I try to turn around and get away, but whatever’s on my wings is too heavy and I can’t seem to keep moving. I cry out as I fall to the treetops below.

I crash through several trees on my way down and my pack gets caught on a branch, nearly strangling me until I manage to unclip the strap. Unclipping my bag sends me tumbling to the forest floor and I fall flat on my face, unable to catch myself in time.

Shadows loom over me and I try to get up, only for someone to place their boot between my shoulders and hold me to the earth. I yell and struggle, to no avail and an unseen figure lifts my chin and presses a rag over my nose and mouth. I tell myself not to breathe, but something in me overrides every rational thought. My limbs grow heavy and dark patches start to creep in at the edge of my vision.

I stop moving, and everything goes dark.

----------

Part 7

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked this chapter, please reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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dolcetters · 3 years

Text

vanilla sunday .

no one asked, i just heckin’ felt like it m’dude. under readmore for length. i’ll try to keep my answers relatively to-the-point, too, since this’ll be a longer post but feel free to inquire on things or ... whatever u-u/ aye. i go sleep now.

is your muse a romantic? do they dream of love and marriage?

short answer: no.

as a teenager, dol didn’t have much interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of his peers around yuflam--or at all, really. by the time he got to academy things were either too busy or starting to get too tense for him to consider the idea. and shortly after that he went over a decade thinking he’d never even see sunlight again.

at this point, he just... --it’s just another thing he might want but doesn’t recognize it as something he wants. because he’s earnestly so bad at listening to his own desires and is more than willing to cast them aside if it means aiding someone he cares about achieve their own.

is your muse a deviant? are they overly flirtatious or forward?

no. there’s no real expansion on this, just no. <xD he tends to be much more bashful and sheepish, partially because of aforementioned inability to recognize he might want a relationship with someone. and even if he DOES realize this, he’s... extremely self aware. we’ll leave it at that.

is your muse good at kissing? are they experienced?

NOPE. and no. he’s never kissed anyone.

does your muse initiate a lot of physical contact?

nooooo no no no. he has an anxiety disorder (haphephobia) revolving around physical contact and even something as “small” as shaking hands or a shoulder bump can make him very nervous, uncomfortable and alert. the reaction is almost doubled if it comes with the sensation or energy of being grabbed.

it’s going to take a lot of time, patience, and trust for him to be comfortable initiating physical contact with you.

is your muse comfortable with public displays of affection?

no, for both the above reason as well as the paranoia that comes with being a fugitive/legally dead. the less attention that’s drawn to him, the better. at most, he’d hold your hand... but refer to the previous question for that.

does your muse steal clothing from their partner?

less “steal” and more borrow. due to having limited resources after escaping the labs and very few belongings he can truly call his own, dol wouldn’t/doesn’t just take or use things that belong to friends, family or potential partners (part of this spurs from his OWN resource guarding). he’d be more likely to approach you while you were brushing your teeth and be like “hey, s’it cool if i wear your hoodie today” and then respond based on that answer.

and he’s going to ask you every time. he doesn’t assume.

is your muse the big spoon or the little spoon?

varies! but most likely, when they’re facing each other, he little-spoons because pressing his face into the curve of the neck just above the collar is not only secure and comforting somehow, but he can hear your heartbeat.

when one of them is facing away, he tends to big spoon. --and obviously this is all assuming he’s at that level of comfort when it comes to physical touch + the partner.

is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? are they insecure?

complicated?

he’s very comfortable and proud of his body when it comes to his physical build, strength, fitness, etc. his strength and speed is something he values and keeping himself healthy and capable is very important to him. he knows he’s done a good job (those arms don’t lie) and he takes pride in that.

~however~, being a chimera... --he’s optimistic, yes. he’s just happy to be alive, of course. it’s not so bad. ...but he is fully, deeply, and painfully aware of how someone might react to witnessing some of his “quirks” when it comes to his splice or the idea of being with someone who isn’t entirely human. and the fact that he often became a target of light jabbing and jokes with the nesties, because dog behavior is much more well-known and commonly familiar than croc or snake or bull behavior, has only added to this awareness.

then, of course, there’s the added detail that he’s not even a perfected chimera. he’s just a successful one. a C- on some government biology test; barely passing.

so yeah. there’s some surface level pride, but... a lot of shame underneath.

is your muse attracted to any features in particular?

physical? no.

he has a soft spot and respect for people who refuse to give into their pain, though. where he experienced trauma and fear and let it make him hardened in a lot of ways, there are other people who have only become brighter, warmer, and do whatever they can to keep someone else from experiencing what they have.

to say he admires that trait in a person is an understatement.

have their crushes been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he’s only really had two, and they’ve both been gals, so i guess that makes it mostly female. i’ve mentioned before that he might have been uselessly in love with martel in the time before the raid (whether she felt the same is unknown) and he in default verse is lowkey sweet on rose.

have their partners been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he hasn’t had a partner.

is your muse easily flustered? do they blush, swear, etc.?

yes, yes, yes. him being flustered is usually a combo-result of: (1) not being used to that kind of attention from someone he actually likes, (2) having no idea how to respond, (3) internalized shame over what he is, and (4) he’s a fucking idiot.

where is your muse most sensitive?

his head, mostly, especially on his hair line and around the ears.

and i can 10000% promise to you that if he ever lets you comb your fingers in his hair or rub around his temples and you make some kind of dog-related-comment, you’re actually going to cause a shit-ton of psychic damage i’m gonna need you to roll like 10d6 for me.

please, please please please don’t ever refer to him as--or make jokes connecting him to--a dog in moments that are supposed to be vulnerable and/or intimate, i can’t... express this enough, it will hurt him.

is your muse more submissive or dominant in a relationship?

idk, i guess submissive but again: idk

would your muse ever tempt their partner, e.g. flirting, wearing tight/sexy clothing?

nah. not really his thing.

if he does “tempt” them it’s going to be sincerely accidental. like... yeah you walked in on me doing pull-ups i guess. would you hand me my water bottle? i’m parched.

does your muse initiate heated/sexual contact, or do they wait for their partner?

i feel like this question deserves it’s own post because i have a LOT of thoughts regarding rosecetto, specifically, on this topic.

outside of that ship, however, the answer is likely no. he’s not the initiator primarily for touch-anxiety reasons and also chimera-related-shame reasons, even if the partner has assured him there’s nothing wrong with him in the past.

does your muse leave hickies? do they ask for them?

eeehhhhh???? ... i guess accidentally sometimes?? and no.

does your muse like to be pinned down, or to pin their partner?

that’s a big NO. if you pin him down, even if he’s reached a point of security with you that he allows you to touch him, you’re going to flare up any of that anxiety that had previously subsided. he’s been physically restrained and held down far too long and all for bad/painful reasons, and he can’t associate it with anything other than “they’re going to hurt me and i need to get away, no matter what i have to do”.

as for pinning his partner, it’s likely also a no because he’d just... be too aware of his own trauma to even try doing it and he’d probably be uncomfortable being asked to do it.

has your muse reached first/second/third base? home run?

honey, he’s done nothing, he hasn’t even swung--

would your muse be interested in engaging with multiple partners?

no. he doesn’t see anything wrong with it when it comes to other people but this is definitely not for him or something he could be comfortable with.

would your muse ever send a sexual text message? would they send pictures?

n/a, but even in modern verses the answer would be no

does your muse read smut, own magazines, or watch p-rn?

nah

is your muse the type to discuss their sex life or sexual prowess with others?

abso. fucking lutely. not. no no no.

at absolute. MOST? he might open up to sakura (yinseal) about it. maybe greed (avadite). and it’d only be if he felt like he was doing something wrong or felt overwhelmed and self-conscious. but otherwise this is his and his partner’s business.

is your muse a top, a bottom, or a switch? do they have a lean?

defaults to bottom but will top if asked or in some circumstances.

crystal has confirmed that rose (forsakenflora) tops, so jfdlfjklsjkldhsd

how interested is your muse in sex and sexual activity?

he’s not.

it’s not a priority of his, and he definitely doesn’t want to hear about yours.

do they have sex frequently, occasionally, or rarely?

not at all right now jf kljdklhshf lhfklsdg

#♠: prompted headcanons .#////nsfw /// / /#////suggestive // // ///#[ and with that i bid you goodnight ]

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viviane-lefay · 3 years

Text

Yeah, no fucks to give here!

Really not into this ship - at least not in a romantic & sexual context.

—

At this point, I think it is best, if I put a little clarification here, before I continue:

This is just about my personal opinion, theories & headcanon - and by no means lays a claim to general validity (nor does your POV, btw).

I have more of a pick & choose approach to fandom subjects, anyway, so I can customize the experience exactly according to my needs and wishes. This is fiction, after all - the realm of endless possibilities - where anything goes, and where there is a place for the preferences of all of us.

That said, I really want to point out that I have nothing against people shipping the Dr. with Agent Stone - but since I, personally, prefer m/f ships, I’d rather choose the female OC approach, as it’s also my beloved villain x heroine constellation (not the subject of this post, though).

My take on the dynamic between the Dr. and his assistant is, therefore, quite a bit different from the fandom popular one. Well, to each his own.

What this post definitely is not, is an invitation for a debate regarding character interpretation, shipping choices, etc. - and all the potential drama that this might entail. If that is what you’re after, then I’d politely ask you to leave now, because all you are doing is wasting both of our time.

Let’s just agree to disagree and move on, k!?

I do my thing and you do you, guys!

I suppose, I made myself abundantly clear now.

—

Anyway, to return to the topic …

Where have all the male friendships & professional partnerships in fandom gone!?

Because, personally, I think agent Stone rather relates to his boss on that level…

Robotnik being a role model of some sort, that is - not unlike a kohai & senpai, or a younger & older brother constellation, actually - where the former looks up to the latter due to certain traits that he admires (and Stone certainly does). Regarding the age difference of the two, this could also make sense.

I’d estimate that Stone can’t be much older than his mid-twenties at most, since he’s in the position of a junior agent and assistant - still at the very beginning of his career path. And he’s very capable, disciplined and professional, at that, which is probably why he made it as Robotnik’s assistant at all (unsurprisingly, given the man isn’t the most patient).

Speaking of whom - I think, regardless of Jim Carrey being in his late fifties at that point - he, himself, can’t be that old, actually. My personal take (& preference) here would be late thirties, which would still make a lot of sense regarding his academic and occupational career. Being this overachieving genius, I guess that he finished school in time-lapse mode, skipping one, or even more grades - same goes for uni. Therefore, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was done by the age of 25 - his five PhDs included (bet he did two at once), which would still give him plenty of time to make his way as an agent and scientific government official up to the time of the events of the movie.

Aside from that, I can’t help but see parallels to the dynamic of Piett and Vader here, as well - a mixture of professional esteem and a bit of intimidation. But certainly no outright fear, as Stone is hardly under the threat of being strangled to death by his superior, like poor Piett is.

That is not to say that Robotnik’s still frequent misconduct towards him is ok (it definitely is not), but it certainly is more mild than he behaves towards, say, pretty much anyone else. Btw, that includes the “pin yourself to the wall”, grabbing him by the bottom lip and dragging him towards himself, while glaring at and chiding him (For what exactly!? Not being perfect, or as smart as him!? Chill, man, the boy is doing his best, and he’s doing a good job!).

Fandom, of course, does what it always loves to do - construe this as “evidence” for the alleged attraction between the two, which is pretty far-fetched, imho (…although you’re surely free to interpret it this way, if you so please. As I said, this is just my pov & to each his own. *shrugs*).

Anyway, you can clearly see Robotnik displaying this type of behaviour, along with the invasion of personal space, towards other male characters as well - be it “Major Nobody Cares”, “Officer Brainfart”, the big bar dude he threw out of the window, or Tom Wachowski. So, following this line of argument, does that mean he’s into these guys, as well!? Honestly, that’s pretty ridiculous!

If anything, it is a blatant display of asserting dominance, bringing the message home that he is the alpha male, while putting his opponent / subordinate in his place - and that’s it! What this behaviour definitely is not, however, is something remotely shipping related.

Besides, there are many examples of other male characters doing this for similar reasons, too - amongst others Darth Vader (remember that scene between him and Orson Krennic!?), and Severus Snape (after Harry invaded his memories during the occlumency lessons). And Robotnik does that quite aggressively in the cases above. In fact, it seems to be a fairly consistent behavioural pattern with him (not that he actually needed that though, but that’s an entirely different matter).

As for Robotnik’s personal attitude towards his assistant, I think Stone’s one of the very few people he actually respects, and even likes, because the young man’s esteem for him is so genuine, while everyone else regards him pretty much like nothing more than an asset, or a threat.

It’s not like he doesn’t somewhat encourage being kept in that position himself, behaving like he does - aside from actively reducing himself to his intellect & academic prowess. This isn’t all that surprising, as it is something he apparently gets his entire sense of self-worth from, and likely the only thing he got any appreciation for from others, which is, perhaps, also why he constantly needs to spotlight said trait (no behaviour someone truly at one with himself & his abilities would display, btw). Then, there is his little tolerance for failure - especially when it comes to himself. He truly expects to perform flawlessly, like a machine, and when he doesn’t, that really seems to unsettle him (that face when Tom points his unsuccessful attempts to catch Sonic out to him … he was so offended, he almost looked like he wanted to cry ^^;;).

So, of course it is likely that he becomes quite attached to the sort of attitude and behaviour that Stone displays towards him, even though he wouldn’t think of it this way - because, you know, emotional bonds with other human beings obviously are beneath him (Yeah, sure, we did see the veracity of that claim afterwards, didn’t we!?).

But, then again, growing up as an emotionally starved child and adolescent, used to being brushed aside, and, later, deliberately distancing himself from other people, he actually might have no clue whatsoever how to appropriately deal with things like these, and thus brushes them aside as “weakness”, which really does make sense, especially in the context that he was bullied as well.

Same goes for him eventually adopting the habit of pushing other people away via plain disagreeable behaviour. I think this phenomenon is called “hedgehog’s dilemma”, and it is quite ironic that he is more afflicted by it than his blue nemesis.

It is so painfully obvious that this guy has some massive issues, stemming from past emotional neglect and negative experiences - so much, that he even rejects all things human altogether, along with his own humanity.

His excessive idealization of and identification with technology, therefore, comes quite in handy as a defense mechanism in order to cope with said experiences.

Machines don’t ask much of you, they do what they are told, they are predictable, and they - above all - can’t suddenly abandon, betray, humiliate, and hurt you (which, I think, is the crux of the matter here).

Even though he might claim that his robots are everything to him, and that he doesn’t need anything and anyone else - his actions, however, prove otherwise … let alone his constant spiteful remarks on the matter, which just sound so damn bitter.

We can recognize that quite clearly when he is forced into involuntary seclusion on that mushroom planet at the end. This is where we see that what he truly is missing are not his machines (I bet he could have easily built a robot to accompany him out of the wreckage of his vessel), but one of the few people (maybe even the only one at that point), that he had apparently grown to value as worthwile company - namely agent Stone.

And, yes, it is very evident that he misses him (platonically, for me - but this isn’t even the point here) - he even tries to make a rock resemble Stone’s likeness in order to have someone to “talk to”, and mimic the social interactions he had with him.

Essentially, all those objects and machines are but a substitutive gratification that he tries to use, but that never come remotely close to the real deal, let alone are ever able to replace it.

In the end, he’s still a human being, along with all the human needs that go along with it - human contact and care included.

If the psycho-social and emotional makeup of his closest known relatives is any indicator to how his own might be structured - and it usually is (I’m speaking about the nature aspect, not nurture) - then he can’t be such a bad guy, after all - at least not inherently.

Taking his grandfather Gerald Robotnik, for example, who loved his granddaughter Maria (a total sweetheart) so much, that he was willing to do anything for her, in order to heal her from the fatal illness that was afflicting her - and who literally went insane with grief after losing her - then it shows someone with a strong emotional life, who feels what he feels very keenly and deeply. Furthermore, he is also someone that happens to bond very selectively, but if that is the case, it has this virtually absolute quality about it, with a love just as intense and profund to match (which is quite beautiful, actually).

On the other hand, though, that can also mean someone that has a high degree of emotional vulnerability, and who, therefore, is susceptible to sustain lasting damage from interpersonal traumatic experiences (which happens to be the case here, imho).

More often than not, it is this type of person that is likely to cork up their feelings and harden their hearts as a result - and who use every opportunity to deride the very traits, needs, and wishes they worked so hard to push away, if they see them in others. That is, amongst others, what gives them away. It’s pure projection - which is why I think that his caustic remarks should definitely not be taken at face value.

There are many, many examples of villains (or anti-heroes) that fit this type. Robotnik would hardly be an exception.

Besides, it is nice to see that Jim Carrey seems to have a fairly similar take on that matter (not that I actually care, but still):

“… and all it really comes down to is, he wants to be special to somebody, only it’s gone megalomania for him.” [x]

Ouch! Poor guy, actually.

He seems a lot like Ozai in that regard. No wonder I dig this dude (aside from him being hot, that is, haha) - he’s totally the type of villain I fancy.

And also, like it’s the case with Ozai, I can’t help but wonder about his past, given there is known so little about it (aside from a few hints), so the following will be about some of my personal theories and headcanons about him, his family, and his past.

These are such important characters (main antagonists, no less), yet the creators can’t bring themselves to be more specific about the most basic facts concerning their families. Ugh, huge pet peeve here! Nobody expects a huge ancestral chart down to the tiniest details, but they could at least offer more info about their closest relatives - especially the parents, who happen to have the most formative influence on a person.

How old was he, when his parents died, anyway!? That they died seems pretty much a given, as that is what being an orphan is about, per definitionem (and he referred to himself as such). But how did they die? Did he witness their death, or was he absent?

Personally, I have this theory that their demise might very well be linked with what happened to his grandfather Gerald Robotnik, and his cousin Maria. Perhaps they were on that space research colony during the military assault, and were also amongst the “collateral damage” there.

From what I read, the recruited scientists lived there, so I reckon that they did bring their families with them, which is likely, since it is said that Maria was born there, so at least her parents must have lived there for an extended amount of time, as well. Since Ivo isn’t Maria’s brother, but her cousin, Gerald must have had at least two children, who lived alongside him (… and his wife!? No info about her, either.) on that station.

While I think both of Ivo’s parents were from prominent scientist families (after all, that is what the population of this space station was comprised of), it is still unclear whether or not they remained on that station. I am inclined to believe they might have split their time between there and Earth, as Maria and Ivo don’t appear to have been particularly close, such as, for instance, her and Shadow (who was pretty much her only friend there), but I think that might also have been the case due to a difference in age.

Maria was 12 years old when she died during the military attack on the station. Since Ivo apparently seems to have no significant memory of his parents, and seems to have spent his childhood as an orphan, he can’t have been older than 3-4 during this incident.

With Gerald arrested, and pretty much the rest of the inconvenient Robotnik family gone, aside from that small child, I think the military decided to take him along, simply because of the vast potential of this child, coming from a bloodline of geniuses, that was now theirs to mold and to exploit.

They likely left the boy in an orphanage afterwards, mostly to his own devices, and without any support, or caregiver whose bonds transcended the mere duty of keeping their fosterling alive - a lonely life, largely deprived of emotional warmth and attachment.

However, they did keep him under close monitoring, so they could intervene anytime they saw fit, to stir him in the direction they wanted - like a psychological experiment of sorts. I remember that in the movie the presiding pentagon guy referred to him as “a lab rat with teeth” - which is rather telling regarding how they perceived him, and pretty nasty, considering the implication.

The Robotnik name, though, they obviously did not refuse him - a decision they would come to regret later. While this allowed him the only tie to his ancestry, their legacy, however, didn’t do him much good.

Gerald Robotnik was a disgraced man, known to the world as the genius madman, imprisoned and sentenced to death as a criminal - which was, by far not the whole truth. And yet, he was turned into this idealised picture of a hero by his grandson, who so admired his achievents and strove to become a scientist because of it, despite knowing only the official version of the story.

The tainted reputation of his grandfather would haunt Ivo for a long time to come. It would also become the lens through which he was perceived and judged by the world at large, and this turned out to be the main reason he was rejected, and, furthermore, relentlessly bullied by his peers - irrespective of his own accomplishments, which earned him at least the praise of his authority figures.

That he eventually snapped and retaliated, did not exactly improve the situation for him. While the bullying did stop for the greater part, the peoples’ suspicion had turned into fear, as their concerns had come to pass after all, and, as a result, he was shunned even more.

In the following years, he was further on groomed to become this perfect military asset - a morally unchecked scientist and ruthless agent, that the government could deploy like the weapon they undoubtedly saw him as.

Unfortunately for them, however, their experiment didn’t quite have the outcome they had anticipated, as he not only exceeded their expectations on an intellectual and scientific level, but, at the same time, became increasingly unstable, unpredictable (”psychological tire-fire”) and, hence, potentially dangerous - to such a degree that they became very hesitant to deploy him at all (despite the “perfect operations record”), and even downright terrified of him.

Frankly, I think they’d also have ample reason to be afraid of him, other than just his obviously ambitious nature. The most prominent being a possible event, where he finds out about what truly happened to his family and himself, as well as their role in this. Needless to say, that he wouldn’t take this lightly, considering all the shit he had to endure because of it, and likely seek revenge. I’d really be curious about such a scenario.

#Dr Ivo Robotnik #Sonic the Hedgehog #movieverse #headcanon #personal opinion #not interested in a debate here #that is what rl subjects are for #fictional world is purely for wish fulfillment and processing stuff #I am merely looking for like-minded ppl here and those with a similar taste

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years

Text

“Another Soldier”

Warnings: Season 7 SPOILERS!! Mentions of suicide, violence, cursing. Graphic below the cut.

Description: You and Buffy have... different ideas of what it takes to stop the First, especially concerning all of the young potentials in your care.

Notes: I’m trying to think of ideas for a short series rn, so let me know if you have any! I don’t want to commit to anything big because I am getting a little burnt out in other aspects of my life, but I’d like to try something with more continuity.

It’s awful. Chloe hanging from the ceiling, her feet dangling in midair, literally makes you sick to your stomach. You help Buffy cut her down and bury her, but all the while you’re focusing on not throwing up.

You should have done more for her. You should have noticed that she was being so closed off. You had noticed that she was afraid, unsure of herself, but with so many girls in the house your thoughts had slipped to pasta dinners and sorting out disputes.

When you return inside, the girls are gathered downstairs.

Buffy lets loose. She calls everyone out. The girls, Spike, Willow, Anya. You. She’s telling you you’re not strong enough, that none of you are going to be enough if you don’t get your act together, and you know what she’s trying to do. But, God. Can’t she see that what they all need is support? They’re scared, like she was all those years ago. Like she is now.

You tell her so, and she bites back.

“This isn’t a fucking sleepover anymore, okay? You aren’t here to play den mom. I don’t need my older sister, I need another soldier. Either get with the program or get out.”

“Watch who you’re talking to,” Spike says from his place in the doorway. He’s leaning against the doorframe almost casually, but no one has forgotten what he’s capable of.

The girls look frantically between the two of you, expecting a fight to break out, but you keep your voice even. Calm.

“This older sister has helped pay the bills on this house for the past seven years,” you remind her. “These girls are risking their lives for a cause they didn’t choose. You’ve had years to adjust. Give them a few weeks.”

“We don’t have a few weeks.”

When she’s finished and gone upstairs to her room, you take the floor. They don’t want another speech, but you don’t care. You know you’re not their leader and it doesn’t matter. It only matters that you have even less power than they do in this situation and that, despite that, they will still see you try.

“Buffy’s right,” you tell them. You’re brushing out Dawn’s hair and braiding it like she’s six, calmly plaiting it until she has a crown that wraps around her head. She lets you, too. Doesn’t complain about being too old for it, just accepts the small comfort. “She’s not right to talk to you like that or to be so cruel about it, but she’s right. We’re all weak, compared to this thing, and that’s why we need to stick together. It’s trying to split us up because it’s afraid. You are making the first evil in the world afraid. If you weren’t, it would leave you be.”

Some of the girls are looking up at you with wide-eyes, others avoiding you all together. Kennedy shakes her head, but you don’t let her interrupt. You know she wants to be in charge, that she thinks she can do better, but she hasn’t seen the things that you have. You can’t bully other people into believing your cause. You can’t ask them to risk their lives if they’re not invested.

“It will come to you, one by one as it said, but it’s not here. It can’t hurt you unless you let it. It wants to separate you, so stay together.”

You squeeze the hands of the girls next to you. You don’t know if they’re hearing you, but you had to try. They start filing out, getting ready for bed, and you head outside to sit on the front porch. You allow your head to fall into your hands, massaging the back of your neck. It’s been a long day, a long year, and you’re not sure how much you can take.

“You’ll never be good enough for them.”

You look up to see Joyce smiling at you sympathetically, her hands clasped in front of her white cotton dress. When Buffy came back and finally told you that she had been in heaven before she was brought back, you had imagined Joyce somewhere similar. An angel, watching the three of you grow up, in perfect bliss, no more worries. But this, as much as it looks like Joyce, as much as you want to believe that you’re seeing her again, isn’t even close.

“You’re not my mother.”

“Come on, dear.” She sits down on the step next to you. “Don’t be cruel. I’m trying to help. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. These girls, they’re not Buffy. They’re not ready, no matter how much you sweet talk them into thinking so. You’re sending them to be slaughtered. At least your sister’s being honest about it.”

You’re sick of this. Listening to whoever thinks they can have an opinion on your life. You stand up, wipe your hands on your jeans, and stare down at the projection of your mother.

“You know what, you stupid simple bitch?” you snarl. “I believe in what I told those girls. I think you’re scared of them. And right now, you’re scared of me.”

“Please, dear, calm—”

“I’m done being calm. Go fuck yourself.”

“Hope you’re not talking to me,” Spike says, and just like that the First is gone in a blink of light. He takes its place next to you on the step, wraps an arm around you. “Was it...”

“Yeah.” You let him hold you, curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and breathe him in.

He doesn’t try to say anything else or ask questions, just gives you the time that you need to collect yourself.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you murmur finally, kissing his clothed shoulder. You’re not trying to start anything, too exhausted to even try, but you want him to know.

“We’re lucky you’re here,” he says. His fingers comb through your hair like yours did with Dawn’s, lulling you to sleep. “You’re good with them, love. And that can’t be easy, considering what dirty little—”

“I have a lot of practice with little sisters.” You cover a yawn and cut him off, aware that there’s probably still a girl or two around here somewhere. You pull a blanket over the two of you on the couch. “Do you think they listened?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

#buffy season 7 #buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #scoobies #btvs #fanfiction

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whitleyschn33 · 4 years

Note

Hey, I don't mean to bother you again, but if you're still feeling up to it, I'd still like to see your opinions on each member of the Schnee family. No pressure if you don't want to do it though; I still appreciate seeing whatever you do post.

Hey!

You’re not bothering me, trust me. My motivation for... well, everything, but this blog in particular fluctuates pretty wildly, and that means that asks can sit in my inbox for months. The world going to hell hasn’t helped much. Also, every single time I’ve tried to write this, I’ve ended losing chunks of it cause I was too dumb to just type this in a word doc and copy-paste, so that’s been frustrating, to say the least.

Now that I’ve gotten smarter, though, let’s get into the Schnees!

Jacques

I have mixed feelings about how he was (potentially) written out of the show (and I have a feeling I’m going to be saying that a lot in this reply). I said in this post awhile back that I didn’t want Jacques to become an agent of Salem because something like that would most likely become the focal point of his asshole-ness and shove everything else to the side. That feeling holds true, but not really in the way I had been expecting.

How he ended up benefiting Salem, I’m perfectly good with. Him not knowing about Salem or Watts’ motives for making the deal with him, making the deal because it of how it would benefit him and not to serve Salem/kill people - that I’m good with. He was an unknowing pawn Watts/Salem manipulated around the board, but not a mustache-twirling villain all on board with working with the genocidal maniac/serving on her council of villains, and that’s all I really wanted - for him to not be a knowing member of Salem’s board of evil. Being part of a group that desires global destruction just doesn’t fit his motives – can’t make money off people if they’re all dead.

However, the fact that that’s why he was arrested - that his downfall was due to and focused solely on being involved in a Salem plot that just popped up this volume rather than anything to do with his treatment of the Schnees or the Faunus - that kinda rankles. This goes back to the ask I answered a while back - the focus on all the new plots and characters that meant a lot of the old stuff that’s been built up was shoved aside. Jacques being taken down feels like it should have been this huge emotional climax, tensions running high with all of the Schnees there and a huge release of all of those tensions as Jacques gets taken down for the crimes that we as the audiences most revile him for – his treatment of the Schnees. Instead it was… none of that. Jacques is arrested by Weiss for his aid to Watts… and she promptly cracks a joke about it to kill the tension. Winter is able to get in a decent snap at him, but that’s it from her. The entirety of Jacques’ arrest is focused on the heating crisis. He’s dragged off, and only Willow and Whitley get to witness and react to it, and even that’s just a look from Willow and Whitley running off looking completely done with everything – they don’t even react with each other. There’s nothing in Jacques’ downfall about his abuse to his wife and children or even the Faunus, it’s all the election and Watts – plot points that don’t hold nearly as much weight to the audience as ones that have been set up for years.

So, TLDR for Jacques: I actually hope this isn’t the last we see of him, because that would be a disappointing way to end the Schnee’s arc as a family. At the very least, I hope we get to see him talked about between Winter, Willow, and Whitley if/when they actually get to talk to each other.

Willow

Mixed Feelings: Round Two.

Her design? Love it. Her conversation with Weiss? Gold. Willow as a character? A bit more involved than I would’ve thought from how very non-existent she’s been up until now and implied to have been in Weiss’s life, but I can roll with her being a bit more aware than I would’ve gone with. Willow’s role in this volume? Ehhhhhhhh….

I hate that she literally just has a camera hidden in Jacques’ office and recorded the entire thing. It seems like such a cheap way of Weiss getting the information she needed, and comes out of nowhere after there was already a way for her to get the information set up in Whitley. Seriously – we already had Whitley established as having seen Watts, seen Jacques’ reaction to him, look suspicious at Watts, and hear at least the man’s first name. Whitley absolutely had the information Weiss needed – so why the hell pull “Willow actually has cameras set up everywhere” out of thin air? And actually – wouldn’t Jacques have his office swept for cameras and bugs on the regular? You know, like the head of an extremely powerful organization and high-profile target of at least one major terrorist group probably would? To prevent something like this exact situation from happening? I just find it hard to believe that she could’ve set them up for long without being found, and setting them up just before something important to the plot happened in that room is just very convenient.

And like, there’s actually no reason that it needed to be that way. Willow and Weiss could have had the same conversation, just swap out the lines about the cameras with “I don’t know, but I know who would – your brother”, and you can even have Weiss still say that he wants nothing to do with her and Willow agree with her “you left him here with us” line, prompting Weiss to seek him out to get the information she needs and maybe even have a heart-to-heart with him. Whitley wouldn’t even have to give up the information in that conversation – he could be incredibly stubborn about it and unwilling to help until Weiss is called into a meeting about the heating crisis, which Whitley would absolutely follow into to listen whether he’s invited or not, and hearing what’s going done, decide to step up and come clean, realizing if he doesn’t, thousands of people will die. I can actually picture it in my head, and it would be so much better than just “Oh, yeah, I got cameras that recorded the entire nefarious conversation.”

And I’ve spent this entire section not really talking about Willow. Uhh… again, I really like her design. I like that she’s wearing purple, a color no other Schnee wears (except… Whitley with that wine… hmmm) – a mixture of red and blue, her freedom being drowned in something else until it’s completely tainted. Her voice is good, and for the most part, I really do like her conversation with Weiss. I also love that she finally points out what me and other Whitley fans have been screaming for ages – that you can’t expect someone that you basically abandoned (in his eyes) to look favorably on you, and I like that she acknowledges her own role in that, that she’s been a poor parent as well, and actively a detriment to Whitley.

TLDR, I like Willow, I just hate the damn cameras that seem to only exist for this plot point (since if they existed before, shouldn’t Weiss being hit be what they were meant to capture?).

Winter

Best girl, hands down. Not kidding, Winter basically carried this volume for me – rational, yet having very human reactions to things while recognizing that the emotional response isn’t necessarily the right one, the star of a badass fight with Cinder in which her Aura breaks but she still goes on fighting and holding her own against a damn Maiden, an awesome new outfit, wonderful conversations with Penny and just a very interesting relationship with her overall, actually gets to fight back against Jacques to his face – is there any point where this woman doesn’t exceed all my expectations?

I wasn’t a huge Winter fan before this volume, but I’ve successfully been converted. Second favorite Schnee for sure.

Weiss

On thin ice. Still my favorite of the RWBY crew, but considering how much of a nose dive the other three (in particular Ruby) took in this volume, that’s not saying a lot. A lot of what irks me with Weiss are… little moments. Implying that Winter shouldn’t trust Ironwood because he “could” be keeping secrets when she’s the one lying while Ironwood has been nothing but honest, the implication that Winter isn’t capable of making her own choices in regards to the military and the Maiden and that Ironwood must have been grooming her (I really hate this implication, both for trying to tear Ironwood down and for trying to rob Winter of her own agency – like, joining the military was her choice, her escape from Jacques, and you want to turn that into some kind of long game manipulation on Ironwood’s part? You want to prove Jacques of all people right in that he “stole” Winter, rather than Winter making her own choices and Ironwood recognizing her abilities and offering her the Maiden’s powers? Really?), trying to brush aside Ironwood’s concerns about just how much RWBY has done behind his back, calling Mantle “her home” when it’s never been that in front of Marrow who is almost certainly from Mantle – just, a lot of little things that I really dislike, not to mention that this is probably the worst design she’s had. But there hasn’t been anything that’s just blatantly ruined her for me, and she remains the most interesting and well executed character of RWBY for me.

TLDR, a lot of bratty moments that push me away from her, but still holds promise.

Whitley

My poor boy! He finally got more screentime and some of our headcanons comfirmed, but made the butt of a joke that could’ve easily been replaced with character development and underutilized so much. I’d say mixed feelings, but no – love his character, hate how he was used would probably be the best summary. Of course, I’m very much biased, but let’s not let something like that stop me.

More screentime! And letting him talk to someone other than Weiss! His banter with Ironwood was good, seeing his reactions to Jacques, how afraid and timid he was, was heartbreaking, and even if it didn’t go anywhere, his suspicion of Watts was nice to see. It’s always sweet to see headcanons confirmed too – the painting of him playing the piano was nice, and even if I’d have rather had it come out of his own mouth, Willow’s confirmation of him feeling abandoned by Weiss was such a satisfying thing to hear.

On the other hand, I absolutely hate the wine prank. It was way too drawn out and petty – seeing so much joy on JNR’s face while setting it up over the course of a whole minute and using an stack of food half his size to toss onto him – it was way too over the top. If they had to go for the food thing, having Oscar (or someone else, but Oscar is the one without a huntsman license, so he’s more believably clumsy) just pretend to trip with a regular plate and get it on his shirt would’ve been just fine, and we could’ve gotten a nice interaction between Whitley and someone new and get some character development. But nope. We got to have RBYJNR take way too much glee in dumping a mountain of food on a boy they’ve never met before for… talking to his sister and unwittingly getting in their way. It just puts a bad taste in my mouth.

And of course, what I talked about in Willow’s section, the set up of him seeing Watts going absolutely nowhere. Seriously – you set up the perfect opportunity, and then took an out-of-nowhere cop out. It feels like such a squandered set-up, and really disappoints me.

At least we actually got him reacting to Jacques, and it was given an appropriate emotion and fitting cinematography. I love the shot of Whitley sitting all alone on the stairs, watching the only person that actually gives him attention being dragged away without explanation, and seeing the weariness and sadness in his expression as he looks up – I love it, I love it so much. The last bit of hope that they may actually treat my boy right in the end…

TLDR: My boy!

And there you have it! Months late, my thoughts on the Schnee after the most recent volume! How will these change after volume 8? Hopefully for the better, but we’ll have to wait and see!

Thank you for the ask, and once again, sorry for the wait. I may try and take a few more hits at my inbox, but that’ll have to wait for tomorrow, since I’ve got work in the morning.

Have a good night, and stay safe!

#rwby #weiss schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee #willow schnee #jacques schnee #rwby7 #ask reply

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