#I have never seen a fandom use 'somebody lives/not everybody dies' quite as much

[representative-democracy]

Let me give you a quick summary of what reading fanfic for The Terror is like

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+ bonus actual show event

#I have never seen a fandom use 'somebody lives/not everybody dies' quite as much #and rip to Irving who seems to be the sacrifical lamb to get everyone else out of the arctic #the terror #the terror amc #francis crozier #james fitzjames #john bridgens #henry peglar #thomas jopson #silna #harry goodsir #fitzier #bridglar #jopzier #goodsilna #cornelius hickey #billy gibbons #the terror shitposting

[hecohansen31]

Secrets Whispered

Michael Langdon x Secretive! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Long time no see, right?

I just thought about this idea, since @guiltyfiend (also please do let me know, when you know what you prefer what you’d like as your ko-fi reward!) made me an amazing ship based about this concept and I just couldn’t wait to do something about it.

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Michael is immediately fascinated by you as there are just too many mysteries around you.

WORDS: 2,9 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Trauma, Mention of The End of The World, Apocalypse-Antichrist and all that stuff, Also I am just extremely rusty about writing Michael, so please do bear with me if this sucks...

Michael had noticed immediately how you stood out of everyone else in the Outpost he had been ‘examining’.

It wasn’t some kind of ‘cheery and flashy standing out’, like many of the women and men that threw themselves at his feet or thought to impress him with a few sassy words that would get them instead on his nerves.

No, you simply stood out, because you didn’t try anything to impress him.

And no one in the Outpost seemed to truly know you.

Which was very strange for a group of people that had passed six months with only the company of each other in a closed off place, but whenever he’d question people about their relationships with you, he’d receive always the same answer.

They didn’t know nothing more than him.

You weren’t certainly shy, since you liked chattering with others  next to the fireplace, but there was some mindless rhythm to the conversation that made it particularly difficult for him to discover much about you, since he couldn’t help but feel like you used soft and polite words as a shield.

So, he couldn’t lie when he admitted to you that he had been looking forward to the interview.

Your eyes had ducked immediately down to your hands, a slight blush on your cheeks, but he knew that you weren’t simply faking modesty.

In all truth what you were doing was simply hiding your reaction to him.

To avoid giving yourself away.

He had known back then that it would be quite the power struggle with you and when he had started questioning you, all he had gotten were curt but short answers.

‘Is your name…?’ ‘Yes’.

‘… and your parents are…’ ‘Yes’.

‘… before the whole Apocalypse, you worked at a local library, didn’t you?’ ‘It was actually a bookshop, sir’.

And it was almost unnerving, hadn’t Michael, as always felt, like there was some thrilling challenge in your words and secretive demeanor, but his haughty tone had quickly shifted, when an answer of yours had surprised him.

‘Why, Mrs. (L/N), should you be chosen for the Sanctuary’ he had asked, hoping it would get him some kind of reaction from you, and it had.

Your head had finally pushed itself up to meet his eyes, immediately latching themselves onto Michael’s light blue.

‘… I don’t think that I even want to go to the Sanctuary, sir’ there was some kind of innocence in your reply that would have sounded arrogant from anybody else, hadn’t it been, like in your case, the utter truth ‘… for me it isn’t a question of deserving it, sir’.

The added words had certainly meant to somehow soothe the veiled insult the previous ones had uttered behind themselves.

‘Why do you think such an unconventional thing, little dove?’ the nickname this time got an honest shade of red placing itself on your cheek ‘… must I remind you that one of the few rules I’d like all the residents to follow is to be sincere to the core?’.

But he knew you weren’t lying.

And yet, it would have been easier if you had.

Although he strangely didn’t want this to be easier, because he liked complicated people, even more in a situation like this one, one in which everybody seemed so dull in the face of the end of the world.

But you were anything but dull underneath that defied appearance.

‘I am sincere’ there was fire in what you said, like it thoroughly burned in your heart.

Like you believed it wholeheartedly.

And Michael liked that.

‘… I just…’ now slowly something intimate and personal was coming on your face ‘… if this world had come to an end, is it natural that we continue on living on borrowed time?’.

There was such a longing ache in your words, as if you knew that they were true and yet you hadn’t ever had the courage to utter them, because they would have sounded foolish.

And they would have to anybody but Michael.

He also lived on borrowed time.

‘Humans ache for survival’ he commented, loving the contrast that your eyes made at hearing those words ‘… in any way or shape. It’s a natural instinct’.

‘And yet survival isn’t living’ you spoke softly, your head slowly turning away to look around yourself, as if you had again to hide your true self and Michael couldn’t help but be almost wounded by the move that meant a backward step in your journey.

He had been interested when this conversation had started with you, but now he was… almost enamored with what you had said.

What you hid so attentively, guarding it as a dragon would do with his own treasure.

‘It isn’t the same thing, you are right’ the low tone of his voice was enough to regain your attention ‘… but isn’t surviving better than staying outside where the toxic air would kill you, in a few minutes?’.

And now sadness crept on your face, alongside tiredness, as if you already knew what would be happening, next.

What Michael would have said.

And you were tired of it.

And it was enough to get your blood boiling, in a wonderful reaction in front of Michael’s eyes, happy to have gotten under your skin, but what you said hit him deep inside.

‘I must seem selfish for thinking this way…’ your voice was low, but it had an edge to it that brought, this time, Michael to focus his attention on you ‘… but I never asked to be saved, some people just stormed in my house, because they said I had some kind of special blood… and they… they took me, meanwhile my whole family died’.

He would have laughed in the face of everyone, had they said something similar, because he knew that it was all a show to convince him.

But you thought that truly.

‘There are millions of people better than me, and I got fucking lucky to be the only one to be here, alone and useless…’ now you were through your own ‘delirium’ and although Michael had been desperately looking to dig in your own soul, he felt like he had just hit a moment that was too private.

Maybe a bit too much.

‘… I am not the one you want to bring to the Sanctuary. If the world has come to an end, it must mean something’.

That Michael’s plan had worked.

But he almost felt guilty for it.

‘… I am sorry’ the words were now quiet, as the others you had uttered echoed deeply in the walls of his small private quarters ‘… it must… I must have misspoken myself’.

‘Oh no no’ his tone was rushed and although he knew that he was showing her something that he had always kept inside of himself, treasuring them attentively ‘… had all the interviews been as interesting as yours, Mrs. (Y/N)’.

Strangely the words weren’t of any comfort to you, although Michael accompanied it with a soft smirk on it, definitely less devious than the one he had for other people.

But he guessed he must have still looked like a wolf clothed in sheep clothes.

‘… is this over?’.

Whatever he had gained through the interview had somehow been completely dispersed, now and you looked like you desperately wanted to go away, somehow, probably because whatever mask had been held in place was now shattered on the ground.

‘Yes, it is’ and he hadn’t ever seen somebody raise that fast with a full set of petticoats ‘… but, I’d like to talk to you, more, Mrs. (Y/N)’.

A bitter smile was now on your face.

‘There are better people in here’ you spoke, and he detected finally something that you had hidden for so long: insecurity.

And as much as he wanted to desperately use it against you: he couldn’t bring himself to.

‘… more deserving of the Sanctuary’.

‘I’ll take that into consideration, if you don’t have any other suggestion for me on how to do my job’.

‘Again, my mouth speaks words that I don’t truly mean…’.

It was almost adorable the way you rushed to apologize.

But there was no fear in your eyes.

It was a first.

‘… I was joking’.

A breath of relief still escaped your lips, and as soon as it had appeared it was now gone.

‘I didn’t think that the devil could joke’.

And your last words effectively knocked the air out of his lungs.

Michael knew for sure that you had been avoiding him, probably uncomfortable with what you had shared with him.

Or better what he had forced you to share.

You’d leave supper early, as soon as he joined it and you’d rush your step whenever you met him in the corridors.

And it was such a shame, since he wanted to get to know you better.

So, he had planned like some kind of idiotic male a small strategy to meet you alone in the library, that afternoon, stalking attentively every step of your day, soon realizing that you visited the enormous local at least once a day, after lunch so that you could unwind and another time after dinner, setting up the book that your fellow housemates had left everywhere in the room.

You had an order of your own and you respected it almost maniacally.

A routine of some kind and Michael took advantage of it, catching you as you were completely taken by a reddish volume in your hands a pile of half-forgotten books adjusted beside you, as if you had suddenly been taken by the impulse to search through the pages of the book.

He wondered whether they had asked for you and you hadn’t been able to deny the claim of the paper.

‘… interesting reading?’ he had startled you, and you had immediately closed the book, almost risking to hit your nose, meanwhile Michael wasn’t able to stop a laugh from leaving his mouth  and you lowered your head to hid an embarrassed annoyance on your elegant face.

He had carved its traits in his pillow as he dreamt, a tormented dream of you standing right on the pillow next to him, staring at him longingly but resistance always matched it, in your eyes.

‘… definitely is’ you commented, meanwhile you turned the book so that he could look at his title, the defiance in your gestures didn’t have to speak loudly for it to be fully understood ‘… ‘The Scarlet Letter’ by Nathaniel Hawthorne, have you ever read it?’.

Michael had been a child when books had entered his life in silly fairy tales that his grandmother and then his ‘adoptive mother’ had started telling him, as they slowly got darker by the time grew into the figure he had been shaped in since childhood.

But as he had grown up, he had swiftly forgotten the pleasure of reading, different things occupying his mind and he hadn’t ever had a break to properly catch up with human literature, alongside.

And because of that and much more, he had to admit it that the passion of reading had slipped outside of his fingers quite early.

‘I sadly must say that I haven’t’.

Unsurprisingly insolence stayed on your face.

But it was also some kind of teasing innocence.

‘… it is actually an interesting and timeless story’ you explained, a twinkle of easiness on your face ‘… slutshaming is still very much real in here, since Venable would also oblige us to wear a scarlet letter on our chest, would she ever find out that somebody had sex with somebody else in here’.

Michael wondered whether you were you such a smartass always or only in the book department.

Either way, Michael enjoyed it thoroughly.

You seemed slightly less guarded off in the library and he could only guess that it felt the same way he felt in his own private chamber.

Hidden behind his extravagant clothes and his father’s influence.

‘You think that those rules are ridiculous’ it wasn’t a question and yet you nodded lightly ‘… well, I do find them a bit antique myself’.

‘You’d expect the dresses would be a torture enough’ you muttered, as you shot his a softer look ‘… and the poor Greys… it is almost… horrible how they are treated… very Charles Dickens’.

There was a light twinkle of madness as you said that and he could clearly see that although you had admitted that you didn’t want to go to the Sanctuary, you weren’t neither interested in staying here further.

‘Have you ever thought about stopping your survival instinct’ he wanted to ask you, but he knew that one wrong question would destroy all the soft climate that had appeared between you two, so he preferred to steer the conversation on human literature, something that got you quite passionate.

And he admired that love and that passion.

To be loved with such intensity it must have a thoroughly miraculous experience.

And he dreamt about it that night.

The following day he found himself in the library again and soon enough he discovered much more than your literary tastes.

He discovered your favorite colors and as he dressed himself up each morning, he wore them,  discovering that they immediately caught your eyes, in a way that seemed like some kind of animal mating ritual.

What had the Antichrist reduced himself to be just for the touch of a small flame of your love?

A complete actor and a clown at your service,

But slowly the ice in your personality started melting and he found that you had started to lean on his company as if you enjoyed it, encouraged it, even, although this didn’t mean that you had opened up to him in any way of shape.

And by this time Michael wasn’t sure whether you’d ever open up to him.

But you had your own way of showing devotion and interest.

Exactly as he did.

Once he had gotten quite along with you, he had given you his ring as a way to show that he somehow trusted you.

As a way to get you to know that he felt respect for you, although it was all hidden behind the premise of you ‘taking care of it’.

But it was a different show of rank and also it was a show of devotion and interest.

And when you had started wearing it, on a small chain around your neck, the pendant coming slowly to set itself on your chest whenever you stood up, in a way that made it pass unnoticed to everyone except you two.

And soon your crush had flared up.

Michael had been shocked when you had moved closer to him, in one of his afternoon library session, as you closed the book you were reading, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ one of your favorites definitely.

‘… you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire you’ you had said loudly, almost as if you were sure this would be a big fail or an even bigger success, and then you had moved closer to him, something shy and clumsy in your antics as you pressed your lips against his.

And Michael, exactly like a clumsy teenager, as well was slow in his reply to you, pawing your shoulder harshly but you still kept your lips locked a few minutes more to make sure that it wasn’t an accident.

And when you separated you were looking at him expectantly.

‘… isn’t that what I am supposed to say?’ he asked softly, a small smile on your face, softness and genuineness appearing in both your faces.

‘I just thought that I am more Mr. Darcy between us two’ you commented and Michael suddenly felt very surprised by the fact that you knew about your behavior, your secretiveness and your shyness, the walls that blocked him from properly getting to know you ‘… it is just that… you are… you are not who I expected to fall in love with’.

A strange rage had filled him at that, matched with an uneasy annoyance at himself.

It was always the same story: he got rejected.

And you didn’t even know he was the antichrist.

‘… you definitely looked out of my league’ there was a glint of amusement in your eyes and a peak of relief in Michael’s chest as he came closer to you, the second kiss being definitely less messy than the first one, and the one that followed after.

And the one after.

And before he knew it you were both in his chambers, completely disrupting Venable’s rule about fornicating with each other.

And it felt good.

And those walls that you had up had come down, since you had let him in yourself in a way that had made him feel almost understood, as you fought for dominance and power under the sheets, before it settled in a small victory on his part.

Although from the moans, you definitely enjoyed it.

And now you were simply enjoying the quiet.

The quiet before the storm, since he knew that he couldn’t deny the true nature of his powers, anymore to you.

But he could delay the reveal a bit, as you smiled at him.

And your smile held the sweetest of secrets.

And he was glad he hadn’t solved each one you held.

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Michael Langdon Taglist (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx​

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#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Reader #Michael Langdon x Reader #Michael Langdon Imagine #Michael Langdon Fic #Michael Langdon Fluff #Michael Langdon Moodboard #Michael Langdon Writing #Michael Langdon x Female Reader #AHS Writing #AHS Apocalypse #AHS 8

[thelittlesunlena]

My analysis of Aizawa Shouta as a person

Warning that this has manga spoilers! 

There is a general idea (or a theory) I have around Aizawa, that influences my vision of him as a person that I want to discuss first. And that is this: 

He works in goals.

Aizawa isn’t the most sunshine character in the manga, I know, what a big surprise. In general, the fandom sees him as this depressed and tired character that doesn’t really care that much about anything (except for his students.) Since it looks like he doesn’t really have any joy in his life except for the existence of the occasional cat. (And his students succeeding.)

It looks to me like he just lives from day to day, both in the vigilantes as in the original manga. Get up in the morning, be a teacher, be a pro hero. Aizawa is known as a really rationally thinking, logical person.  It really seems he works by setting goals for himself that he has to meet every single day. And then another goal the next day, and another, and another.  (This leads to himself being a workaholic, he sets goals for both his jobs, and neglects pretty much everything else. ‘Got my arms broken and my face shattered by a Noumu? Doesn’t matter, my goal is to protect my students.’)

It’s a cycle he has put up for himself to possibly do his work as efficiently as possible.  I think the main goal he sets for himself is: save people. Be a hero/teacher.

Obviously, since he’s a hero, saving people is a main goal he has. But there’s something more behind this main goal, something a lil’ more hidden that’s pretty dark. Let me rephrase it a bit differently: Staying alive is not the most important goal to him. And I think it never really will be.

I base this on what we see happen in the vigilantes manga. There’s a villain rampaging around the streets and two civilians are in danger. His main goal: save these 2 civilians. Easy enough right? He succeeds in doing this, kind of…

The villain goes rogue and he gets pretty hurt, but the only thing on his mind is: “the students he attacked… they’re safe.” He concludes that his body won’t move and that he can’t get away from the villain currently charging straight for him. The thing he thinks isn’t what you’d typically expect from somebody who’s about to die, normally they’d say something sad but inspirational like ‘I’m so sorry (character’s name), ‘I wish I could’ve done better’. Y’know, the typical manga.

You get what I mean, instead though what Aizawa thinks is: “end of the line for me? That’s fine.”  The only reason he survives is because the protagonist saves him. Aizawa was about to die right then and there, and it looks like he didn’t really mind.

Because of this chapter we find out two things about Aizawa as a person: 1. He puts others above his own survival. 2. He possibly doesn’t see himself as very important.

This second one is based on his thought that he states his survival would be “optimal”. This is also what I base my goals idea on, he has nothing to look forward to. He doesn’t have a dream to live to, he just gets up in the morning and goes to be a hero. And if he doesn’t survive that day? Basically: “Survival is optimal, but dying is fine.” He has met the goal in that moment of saving the civilians.

Basically, what I also mean is: Aizawa probably thinks has nobody waiting for him to come home. He quite possibly is convinced that his death wouldn’t have that much effect on others, he might even think it a minor convenience (because his quirk is very handy for other heroes who are having trouble fighting.)

(I believe at this point a lot of people thought of this too, but the main idea that popped into my head was: “What about his family?” Doesn’t he have any parents wanting him to survive, what kind of relationship does he have with his family that they don’t matter enough to him to stay alive for?)

Now I’m sure every single one of us knows this isn’t true, his high school friends would probably be devastated by the news if he actually died.

I want to make a comment about this though. I am currently discussing the vigilantes manga which takes place in the past, in the main BNHA manga he lives together with the students at the dorms and is also the caretaker of Eri. There are people waiting for him at home now, I think this might have an effect on how he sees himself. 

But we still see him put others before him on a pretty dangerous level, like when he pushes Midoriya out of the way and gets hit by the quirk himself. When he lifts his head to erase Shigaraki’s quirk, even though both his arms are broken, and face is shattered. His main goal is to save the people around him, and in general it looks like he doesn’t mind dying for the people he cares about. (The villains even know this to the point they use it against him.)

Now I want to talk about Aizawa as a person within being a hero.

My general idea around him becoming a hero was this: He is not excellent in anything and quite possibly has close to no passions to base his future on. So he might as well become a hero, and save people’s lives. He got into UA by kicking ass at the sports festival, he’s strong from a younger age because he had to work harder because of his quirk, which is why he’s so strong in the main manga. (The festival theory was almost seen as canon by loads of people, especially because he started training Shinsou in the main manga.)

Have you noticed my past tense? … Yeah The current vigilantes arc is a look into his backstory, during his time at UA. And boy, no offense but… Does he suck at literally everything or what? Aizawa is generally seen as the depressed person by the fandom and it is often joked about by everybody (me included). But man, he sure had it rough mentally as a kid, didn’t he?  

He thinks very lowly of himself, like incredibly. But what stands out the most to me that I want to talk about is:  does he want to be a hero?

After he appeared in the vigilantes manga a lot of people joked that it looked like he hates his job as a hero, and I can’t help but think that he actually really does hate it? Or dislikes it, at least.

The general idea kidzawa has in this arc is that he can’t become a proper hero, that he is too weak and probably wasting time. He’s no All Might, he’s not good at fighting, his quirk’s weak.  One of the students beats him up during training and starts to rant, calls him a loser, and even tells him to go home. The teacher stops him...eventually. And asks Aizawa if he’s okay. To which he replies: “Yeah. Not that I’ve got a choice, nothing I can do about my quirk.” 

So why is he at UA? How did he even get into UA?

I explained how his life as an adult is just reaching a goal of some kind every single day, and even his homeroom teacher kind of mentions this:

Aizawa as a kid doesn’t have a clear vision for the future, what exactly does this  mean? His goal, probably, is to graduate and become an underground hero.  It kinds of seems like becoming a hero was the plan he came up with, because he simply... couldn’t think of anything else?

Now something obviously changed, since in the general manga he’s incredibly strong. He kicks ass at USJ until the Noumu stops him, during the exams arc he runs around effortlessly while carrying multiple heavy weights.  Something has obviously happened that made him the way he is as a 30 year old, we simply don’t know what yet. 

But one thing is generally clear, Aizawa did not go to UA with a big passion for being a hero. This strikes me as kind of weird, if he didn’t want to become a hero, or believes that he doesn’t have it in him to become a good one, why UA of all places? Why the number one hero school in Japan?

Here’s my theory: he was forced by his parents. It could explain the possible bad relationship they might have. (It seems a lot of fans agree that Aizawa’s backstory regarding his family is very negative, it’s kind of a vibe he gives off.) Why would his parents pay for UA when they should obviously be able to tell how he’s feeling? Why not one of the other hero schools?  It could also explain how he got into UA, maybe somebody in his family is already a hero and he got in through recommendations. That’s just a theory though! We still know nothing for sure.  In general Aizawa is a pretty interesting character, since he’s relatively important but we know close to nothing about him. He’s the human incarnation of rationality and logical thinking, a big softie when it comes to his students (or that one kid in vigilantes, saying he’ll keep an eye on him close to the venue because their favorite idol can  be heard singing there).  In the end, in the vigilantes manga he says he’ll be an old guy resting somewhere with nothing on his mind. He even smiles while saying it.  Survival is optimal, being an old man with nothing on his mind seems the end goal.  (With how much of a workaholic he seems to be though, I wonder if he’ll actually be able to do that.)

Thoughts, anybody? 

#aizawa shouta #eraserhead #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #theories #bnha manga #mha manga #bnha vigilantes #mha vigilantes #yamada hizashi #midnight #bnha students #bnha teachers #bnha spoilers

[requiemreads]

Don’t Let Me Drown

Fandom: Marvel/The Avengers

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Prompt:

“Can I request an imagine where it’s after Infinity War and Peter has turned to dust and so like reader is his best friend (more than Ned sorry 🙊) and he’s waiting with Aunt May for Peter to come back from the battle (come on, we all know she knows 😂) and so when Tony comes back and breaks the news reader just breaks down and says “I never got to say goodbye.” But in the end Peter does come back and him and reader get together and it’s cute and fluffy and AHHHHH ☺️”

Authors Note:

I saw this in my requests and I know it’s a fairly new one but I instantly became drawn to it and I just had to do it right away. If this isn’t what you wanted or it is plain awful, I am so sorry. I tried my best. I also tried to make this as American as possible but with limited American knowledge due to my Britshness, it didn’t go down well.

Word Count: 1585

You were watching the news in Peter’s apartment, worried out of your mind. You had only recently found out that your best friend was Spiderman and it didn’t bother you at all, it just scared you out of your mind. All those criminals out there chasing after your best friend with nothing to protect him apart from webs he’d made himself in a science class? Yeah, that was the reason you were always worried about him.

The last time you had seen Peter, you were both on the school bus, heading out of the state on a school field trip when Ned got distracted by a giant circle made of metal flying through the air. You all had no idea what was going on and before you could even react, everyone was pushing you out of the way to see what was happening out of the window. You glanced over at Peter with furrowed eyebrows and saw that he was picking his bag up and getting ready to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You spoke quietly to him, with wide eyes as you watched him, making sure to keep your voice down so as not to draw any attention to the two of you. Although it was probably hard to hear the two of you over the screaming and worried shouts from everybody on the bus anyway.

“What do you think? I’m going to go save the day.” Peter smiled innocently at you as he leaped through the window, using the webs from his spider suit to ease himself through the city and changing into his suit that you had grown quite accustomed to.

You sat down in the seat of the bus and looked around worriedly. The only other person who knew of Peter’s secret was Ned, but he was too busy looking out of the window to see what the giant circle in the sky was. The amount of conspiracy theories that were coming out of the teenagers mouth was more than enough to give you an even bigger headache than you already had.

As it turned out, losing somebody on a field trip was not something that was planned and as soon as everyone found out that Peter had gone, it only caused more panic within the class.

Since the bus hadn’t particularly left the city yet, you knew you could easily run back home and hide out until Peter had returned from whatever the heck, he thought he was doing. You didn’t care about the world, you didn’t care if space robots invaded the Earth. You didn’t even care for a mad-man terrorising the entire city, you cared about your dorky best friend who you were too afraid to reveal you had been crushing on him for months.

You shook your head as you also left the school bus, shaking your head as you went along with pulling the hood of your hoodie up onto your head. You had a bit of a walk until you got to your destination, but you knew that you had to get there in order to keep yourself from freaking out.

You watched the news with your head in your hands as the news announcers kept saying the same things over and over with the same footage of the giant metal circle in the sky. Nobody knew what was going on, nobody knew what was going to happen to the world. Nobody knew what was going to happen to the Avengers who you had all grown to love.

A few minutes passed and you heard screams coming from outside the window. You hurried over and saw children and parents, grandparents, pets, turning to dust. You watched horrified as there were only a few people left in the street. Cars were abandoned where the drivers had just vaporised into thin air. Babies were left howling for their mothers or fathers as they realised that their parents weren’t with them anymore.

“What is happening?” You spoke aloud, trying to just make sense of what was going on with the world.

What you really wanted to do was slap yourself awake. Surely this was just some huge, fabricated mess that his mind was playing on him. He’d wake up soon and be back on the school bus with Ned and Peter and all would be fine and dandy in the world again.

Two days.

It had been two days since Peter had disappeared and you weren’t holding it together at all.

Aunt May had decided to keep you at the apartment until you knew that your best friend was safe, that hadn’t been very easy on the both of you considering the only spare bed was Peter’s own.

The nights that you spent there were hard, you didn’t get much sleep, instead you spent the hours crying into Peter’s pillow just willing him to come home. Just willing him to come in through the door or the window and apologise for playing some sort of sick game on them or do something!

Later that day, there was a knock at the door. You perked up slightly, the bags under your eyes being extremely noticeable from your lack of sleep, only to deflate immensely at the sight of Tony Stark.

Aunt May ushered the older man inside, sitting him down on the sofa and placing a warm cup of tea in front of him. It looked like he had been through hell and back and still hadn’t found a way out.

You glanced over at him with a concerned but confused look on your face. Why was Tony Stark in Peter’s living room? Did this have something to do with Peter? Where was Peter? Was he okay? You felt your heart rate start to increase as you thought of the many possibilities as to why he was sitting on the sofa and drinking tea with shaky hands.

You worriedly looked over at Aunt May who cleared her throat and directed her gaze towards Mr. Stark.

“What do we owe the pleasure?” She spoke, wanting to sound as polite as she possibly could. It was obvious that she hadn’t been sleeping either with the bags under her eyes and the puffiness of them, she’d obviously been crying too.

“Peter… he didn’t make it…”

Hearing those words coming from Tony Stark… it was a surreal moment. You felt like the world had completely stopped. You felt like your heart was literally being ripped out of your chest. You screamed and broke down, crying on the floor. Your head was in your hands and you were sobbing uncontrollably.

“I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” You sobbed harder, bringing your knees up to your chest as you watched the two adults in the room look over at you with sympathy before they let their tears fall too.

It had been another two days of pure hurt. You were lying on the couch in Peter’s living room. You knew it wasn’t right to be staying there anymore. There were just too many memories of the boy you had grown to love. There were too many memories of the best friend that you had lost. You knew that you had long overstayed your welcome and knew it was time to finally go home. You didn’t know what you were going to go home to. Were you going to be met with your family? Did they disappear, just like the people in the street had?

You sighed as you thanked Aunt May for the hospitality and letting him stay for so long before you opened the door...

You opened the door to see a worn-out Peter Parker ready to knock on the door.

You quickly turned back to Aunt May who had a look of shock on her face. Okay, so it wasn’t just you hallucinating or having your mind play tricks on you… Peter… Peter was alive.

“I swear to God, Peter. If you ever, ever do that again. I will kill you myself. Don’t die on us! Don’t let us think that you’d died!” You broke down once more as you pulled Peter in for a hug, not wanting to let the other male go. You felt relieved knowing that he was there, you could actually hug him. He wasn’t a fignment of your imagination after all.

“Y/N… if you were to kill me then I’d be dead…” Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he burst out laughing, hugging you tightly in return.

“I-I thought you were gone. I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again. I thought that I’d have to find a new best friend and a new everything. You were the first person to help me and-and I know that you’re some big superhero now, but you’re still my best friend before any of that.. and I love you!”

Your eyes widened as you realised what you’d just admitted, pulling away from Peter quickly no matter how hard it hurt to.

All Peter did was give you a knowing smile.

“Well, Y/N, if it took you thinking I was dead to get you to admit you had feelings for me then I could’ve just done it sooner.”

You shook your head as you smiled widely before leaning up and giving Peter a kiss on the lips.

You didn’t know what the future would hold for the both of you but you knew that as long as you had Peter in it, it would be amazing.

#peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader #spider man x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #spider man x reader #spider man x male!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x male!reader #spiderman x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x male!reader #marvel x reader

[welcometocaritas]

‘IF YOU LOVE ME, DON’T LET GO’

Chapter: 3/7

Characters: Yumiko & Magna

Pairing: Yumagna

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary:  At some point, you just have to let go - or so Yumiko keeps telling herself. There was never any letting go of Magna.

Links: A03, FF.NET, Wattpad

A/N: Oh my god, this chapter was such a bitch to write. The words did not flow right all, it’s so clumsy. So huge apology in advance.

TW: there's a brief mention of drug overdose in this chapter

"For a long time after his rescue, Buck did not like Thornton to get out of his sight. From the moment he left the tent to when he entered it again, Buck would follow at his heels. His transient masters since he had come into the Northland had bred in him a fear that no master could be permanent. He was afraid that Thornton would pass out of his life as Perrault and Francois and the Scotch half-breed had passed out. Even in the night, in his dreams, he was haunted by this fear. At such times he would shake off sleep and creep through the chill to the flap of the tent, where he would stand and listen to the sound of his master's breathing."

- The Call of the Wild by Jack London

. . .

Magna had never been good at romantic relationships. They were too . . . messy. Too complicated. Too many ways for things to go wrong. She and Miko hadn't even been together for a year and it was still the longest any of her relationships - if you could even call them that - had lasted. In a way, she'd been waiting for it to fall apart from the moment it started.

Friendship, she could do. She knew how to be a friend. She knew better how to deal with those expectations.

But the way that sometimes she felt like she couldn't breathe when Miko was away from her, the punch of air back into her lungs when they touched, the constant need ...

She didn't know how to deal with that. Wasn't comfortable with dealing with that. Or that ever present fear at the back of her mind - what would she do if one day Miko went away and never came back?

(She wondered if her mother had felt this way about her father once; recoiled)

It was illogical, but a part of her hoped that if she could just put a little distance between them, if she could push them back over that line they'd dared to cross, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much when she finally lost her.

Stupid.

She suspected she would always feel this way about Yumiko, whether they were friends or lovers . . . or even if one day they became strangers to each other. Her heart wasn't good at letting people go. It was hard to find a way in, but once someone did . . .they never left. And maybe she resented Miko for how deeply she'd buried herself. But Magna had let her do it. Miko hadn't forced her way in - she wouldn't - she didn't have to. She had kept to the edges patiently until slowly, inch by inch, Magna had opened the door for her.

She had been the first person she'd learnt to trust again after prison. In truth, she'd made it possible for her to go on to trust others. Connie, Kelly and Luke - hell even Bernie - hadn't had to wait nearly as long. She was still unsure if that was a good or a bad thing. Whether it made her weaker or stronger. It certainly provided her with more to lose, more room for betrayal.

But it did make life easier to bear in a way.

Gave her a reason to be.

She'd grown up looking after her brother and cousins. In prison and after, she'd floundered somewhat without that purpose. When they'd formed their group, which had been so much larger than it eventually became, she'd fallen back into her old role.

She'd found that purpose again.

But just as she'd failed to protect her cousin, she'd also failed to protect Bernie and Connie, and everyone else in their group who had fallen over the years. The people who Magna hadn't known quite as well or been nearly as attached to but still felt responsible for.

There'd been one child. Sarah. Twelve years old. She'd entered their group only briefly - had left it, first, after one single tiny inconsequential bite; and, finally, at end of Magna's knife. Like Maisie, she was a black hole in her memory that she took care to shy away from, lest she fall in.

Or what might have become of her remaining cousins, who she hadn't seen since before the outbreak. Her brother had overdosed at the beginning of her third year in prison - she still blamed herself for not being there to stop him - and she couldn't decide if that was better or worse: surviving like they were, or dying before you were forced to see what became of the world and humanity. Morgan had never been good with violence. Had closed his eyes during fight scenes on TV, whilst she pulled on his hair teasingly and stole popcorn from his unprotected lap. He wouldn't have made it here. Or if he had, he would have hated himself for it.

He wouldn't have been able to live with murder. Not like Magna.

He'd never even visited her in prison.

It wasn't . . . anger, or revulsion. He just hadn't been able to face what she'd done, to align it with the memories he'd had of the girl who'd taught him to tie his shoelaces and how to make daisy chains.

(and perhaps the memory of the fight they'd had after Maisie had died - the only fight they'd ever had, in which Magna had completely lost it at him for ditching the child he was supposed to be babysitting because the girl he'd had a crush on for the last three months had called him up at the last second to invite him to come around - had also kept him away, kept him distant. Even now, so many years later, she was still a mess of resentment for that, and haunted by the guilt and regret of throwing it in his face, for never apologizing, for never hugging him after that point and . . .)

In truth: she hadn't wanted him to come, to see her in that place. She didn't know what to say to him. What could she say? That she was sorry? She wasn't. She didn't even regret it. It would have been too much of a struggle for him to wrap his head around.

Like Miko, he'd had a firm sense of right and wrong; a rigid morality.

Magna had always been far more flexible with hers. She didn't mind the grey areas, the places people were scared to look at too long. They made sense to her, in a way black and white never could.

. . .

"I told her once I wasn't good at anything. She told me survival is a talent."

― Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted

. . .

( 'We could've taken those walkers.'

'We had a split-second decision to make-'

'You made the decision.'

'Look, when shit hits the fan, somebody's got to step up.

So, yeah, I listen to what everybody has to say, I weigh it all up- '

'And then you do what you were gonna do anyway.'

'Where the hell is all of this coming from?'

'You're not my lawyer anymore.')

At the back of her mind, there'd always been a part of her that worried that Miko felt responsible for her. It was the only thing that made sense as to why she'd chosen to stick around, even before the world ended. Why she would bully Magna into weekly coffee dates and used up most of her petrol constantly visiting the truck stop just so she could keep her company during her shifts - and prevent her from losing her mind to boredom, which had been an ever growing possibility before Yumiko had taken to showing up regularly.

She was a do-gooder; Magna had surmised that almost within their first thirty minutes of meeting.

When she'd gotten out of prison, she'd noticed how Miko's house was never quite clean of the overabundance of dog and cat hairs from the stray animals she couldn't seem to stop herself from collecting. She took cases on pro bono and in the nearly three years Magna had known her, had spent every Christmas volunteering at a soup kitchen - something she only knew about because her mother had called up Magna during her first Christmas on the outside to try and get her to talk Miko into spending the holidays at home; and of course 'Yumi' could bring her new friend along, because Magna worked far too hard and wasn't it just the cruelest thing to make an old woman (Yumiko's mother was only forty-five) spend the night alone in her old, empty apartment and, well, she listened to Magna you see . . . Magna had quickly agreed and hung up before Yumiko's mother tried to adopt her on the chance that her daughter might visit more if her childhood home grew to contain one disgruntled young ex-con with far too many tattoos for such a 'beautiful girl' like her - and she'd been already getting cabin fever just by speaking on the phone to Miss Nakamura.

It had been somewhat frustrating to realize the older woman was right when Miko caved within a minute of Magna trying to convince her to spend Christmas with her mother, on the condition that she came along to (the outbreak had saved Magna from having to make good on that deal, something that over the years she'd actually grown to find somewhat regrettable, if only because it would have been nice to have another memory of Miko being happy to look back on).

The fact of the matter was, though, that when someone was in trouble, Yumiko couldn't keep herself away. It was exasperating (and endearing).

Magna might have rolled her eyes - because she had a hard time believing anyone would do something for nothing, for no more reason than that they wanted to help, in any way they could - except she knew Miko and she knew it was genuine. That it wasn't just a way to make herself look better, or to fluff up her ego with the knowledge of how good she was. She did it because she cared, because she couldn't do nothing when there was an option of doing something.

So she'd saved the younger woman from prison, found an apartment block that wasn't too expensive or degraded, and helped her get a job when all Magna had been faced with were rejections.

And if she hadn't needed help, to be looked after in the beginning, she wondered if Miko would have even bothered to keep in contact. Because, really, what else was there to attract a talented lawyer from an upper middle class family to a high school drop-out only recently out of prison, who at that point could aspire to little more than working all-night shifts at a seedy truck stop?

It was a question that had kept Magna up at nights, made the weight of Miko's head on her chest almost suffocating.

The apocalypse had changed things, yes. Suddenly, Magna's prison experience and history of getting into fist fights was useful. Her distrustful nature and, at times, questionable morality were the kind of personality traits that might just keep you alive in this hellhole. She didn't need to be good at maths or literature or humanities. Magna could knock a man three times her weight flat on his back the second things turned sideways and still have enough stamina to take on another, and another.

So, she could understand, then, why Yumiko had stuck by her after civilization fell. She didn't question that.

But Miko liked to control things, to know that everything was in its place and everyone was alright, everyone was safe -and in some ways that extended to Magna.

Yumiko had graduated top of her class - both from high school and law school - and, whether she realized it or not, had gotten used to being the smartest person in the room, the most level-headed. She'd never admit to it openly but Magna knew that a lot of the time she thought she knew best - and a lot of the time she did. But it could make Magna feel like such an idiot, sometimes, in her presence.

(like back when they'd been going over trial strategies all those years ago and Yumiko had listened patiently to every idea Magna threw at her, only to later reject them all anyway and that was okay, because Magna was the prisoner and Yumiko was the lawyer and she'd already fucked this up for herself once but that was then, and this was now and-)

She would inwardly - and all too often outwardly - bristle and fume, stalking off before Yumiko had a chance to stop her, before she had to look a second longer at that confused and worried - and hurt - face.

Because Magna wasn't an idiot.

She wasn't smart, not the kind of smart that Miko was, that the other kids at school were, and in the way the teachers wanted her to be, but she knew things. She knew how to survive. To survive in a world that didn't and never had wanted her.

And if Miko didn't realize that - if, even after all these years, she could look upon Magna the same way her aunt had, her brother had, every fucking school teacher that had ever shaken their head and sighed at a lost cause had; that very same pity and defeat that had come to rest upon her lawyer's face within only fifteen minutes of meeting . . . all that condescension and exasperation and disappointment-

If she looked at her like that, thought of her in that way, then why the hell would Miko want to be with her in the first place? What would keep her from moving on to someone else, someone smarter, less impulsive, less of a handful . . . someone better?

Just because she hadn't already didn't mean she never would. It wasn't like they had been spoiled for choice over the last ten years, there weren't a lot of viable dating candidates in the middle of the apocalypse - especially if you were a lesbian. Or, at least, that had been the case until they'd encountered Alexandria; until they'd moved into Hilltop, and traveled down to Oceanside for fortnightly training routines; until they'd been suddenly surrounded by so many people, so many smart and stable and kind people, many of them with only half as many issues as Magna, even less of them possessing her caustic attitude and liability to fuck things up.

Eventually, Yumiko would start to notice, start to look, start to wonder . . . and then she would be gone.

Except . . . they had been living at Hilltop for a year and the only time Yumiko had looked like she was even considering walking away was when Magna had forced her to. And even that hadn't been enough to make her leave, not really.

Even that hadn't stopped Miko from latching onto her after she stepped out of the horde, from looking at her like she'd just arrived with a gallon of water for someone who'd been lost in a desert for weeks. It hadn't stopped her from holding onto Magna, minutes, hours later, even after she was assured of her well-being.

She didn't look at her like a stray dog that pity had forced her to take in and which she now couldn't get rid of. She didn't blame Magna for not having Connie with her, for not being good enough and capable enough to save her - even though she had to know it was her fault; because she'd had Connie, she'd had her hand in hers, and she'd just . . . let it slip away.

She'd let her down. Just like she'd let Bernie down. And her brother and-and . . . Maisie.

She let everyone down.

Her own mother had gone to prison because Magna had been too scared to testify in court, to convince a jury that it wasn't her fault, that she was good, that she'd only been trying to stop her husband from thrusting that broken beer bottle at her daughter's face after Magna had accidentally knocked three coronas to the floor.

She let Miko down.

She'd lied to her for thirteen years and she'd convinced herself that she was doing it for both of them, that she was only saving the woman from a pain she didn't have to experience, she was keeping her close, where Magna could keep her alive, keep her safe . . .

But she knew, deep down, from the very beginning, that the only person she was protecting was herself.

And she didn't even do that right.

But Miko had punched Carol in the face - Yumiko had punched someone, calm level-headed Miko who thought violence was a fool's weapon when you could achieve something just by talking, and had made a living out of doing exactly that - she'd punched someone, for Magna, and demanded that they beg her forgiveness. And she'd never seen her so furious, so reckless, so willing to make an enemy out of someone when it would gain her nothing.

And she had done it all for Magna.

And, somehow, that sight had terrified her more than the thought of Miko walking away ever had.

(She hears the squelch as the knife sinks in, feels the unexpected spray of blood against her teenage face - hears the shot, the weight of a body collapsing on her, sees Miko's horrified face-)

Because she'd realized then, that all her suspicions, all her fears . . . they were nothing, they'd been for nothing. Because she'd understood then that Miko would never walk away, not from her. No matter what she did, what she'd done . . .

She may still doubt it, sometimes, may always doubt it because that was what Magna did - she doubted things . . .

But now she knew.

She knew Yumiko loved her. Would always love her.

And Magna had never wanted to run away faster in her life.

Because the only time Yumiko had looked at her like she'd let her down was that night in their room, when she'd pulled the rug out from under her, obliterating thirteen years of blind trust.

She had already hurt her once. And if she loved Magna as much as she loved Miko, then there was no telling the kind of pain she could cause her. She could break Miko's heart - more than break, she could destroy it - and she wasn't sure she trusted herself not to; to not ruin the only good thing that had ever happened to her.

. . .

"I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys."

― Ally Condie, Matched

  >

A/N: Thanks so much for sticking with this story. I would really appreciate if you commented and let me know what you think about how things are going so far, what you like or don’t like. I’m working really hard on this and it would be a huge deal to me.

In other news, I have the idea for two sequel oneshots to this now. One of them fluffy, the other a little bit less so but not as angsty as this either.

#yumagna #nadia hilker #eleanor matsuura #the walking dead #twd #twd edit #twd fanfiction #magna twd #yumiko twd #yumiko #yumiko x magna #magniko #mypost #my post #myfic #yumagna fanfic

[bittersweetmelodie]

interlude

Fandom: RWBY Pairing: Mainly friendship (Team RWBY friendship + Team SSSN friendship), but also Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long + implied Blake Belladonna/Sun Wukong Summary: The space of time between the battle at Haven, and their departure for Atlas involves a lot of tears, a lot of anger, and lot of happiness.

Ao3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to Rooster Teeth. 

A/N: I don’t really like this one that much, but it’s been sitting in my WIP folder FOREVER now and I want to get it out of my face, so take the word vomit.

First part based on this lovely piece of art by sunbellas.

Yang studies Weiss as she talks to Team JNR, making sure that the three of them are okay – of course Weiss would be worried about everybody else when she was the one who nearly died. It still feels like a dream to her – watching Weiss come back from the brink of death the way that she did was nothing short of a miracle, and she still isn’t sure that she won’t disappear from her sight at any given moment.  

“Here,” Weiss says, interrupting her thoughts. “I think you need a hand.”

Yang looks up to find Weiss extending a hand ­– her hand – towards her, with a small smile on her face. She blinks twice and rubs her eyes to make sure she isn’t dreaming. Because Weiss almost died, and now she’s making puns. And Yang isn’t quite sure that she didn’t die and become an angel, because she certainly shines brightly enough, and her smile makes her beautiful enough to be one.

“Yang?” she asks, her smile fading, when Yang continues to stare at her in disbelief. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Yang’s eyes fill with tears and she lets out a watery laugh. “No… no, it was perfect.” She almost adds, like you, but she bites her tongue, because now is not the time nor place to talk about her growing not-so-platonic feelings for the other girl. She reaches up and grabs onto the mechanical arm, giving it a sharp tug.

“Wha –” Weiss, who didn’t have time to let go, loses her balance and tumbles forward.

Yang easily catches her before she hits the ground and pulls her into a tight hug. She buries her face into the other girl’s shoulder. “I’m just really, really glad you’re alive,” she mumbles, her voice muffled.

Weiss’s gaze softens and she relaxes into the embrace, slipping an arm around Yang to return the hug. “We’re okay. We’re all okay,” she murmurs as she tries to keep her voice from breaking – she forces down the residual fear, because somebody has to be strong, and Yang looks like she is on the brink of breaking down.

Yang sniffles quietly and swallows the lump that had formed in her throat. She doesn’t think she’s ever been that scared in her life – not when she saw Adam run a blade through Blake’s stomach, not when she woke up in bed in Patch with her right arm missing, not even when she found out her mother was capable of killing a defenseless girl – because she can probably live with all of that, but she thinks she might die if Weiss doesn’t make it.  

“Please don’t do that to me again, Weiss,” she mumbles into her shoulder. “I can’t – I can’t lose you. Not like that.”  

Though the memory of it is disjointed and faded, like it had happened a long time ago, she can clearly remember the fear, the feeling of cold dread that washed through her as she watched the weapon slowly fading. She trembles a little and tightens her hold around Yang’s waist to steady herself, and to reassure herself that this is very much real. She opens her mouth to say something – anything – to reassure Yang that she is here to stay, that she would never leave her like that – but her throat closes up and nothing comes out.  

Yang pulls away from the hug when she feels Weiss shaking in her arms, but she keeps a tight hold on Weiss’s arm, because she still isn’t sure that Weiss isn’t an illusion that will shatter to dust if she lets go.

“Weiss? Are you okay, though?” she asks, her voice shaky.

“I – I’m fine,” Weiss says, a little breathily. “Jaune healed me, I’m fine.”  

Yang shakes her head and she reaches down to run her hand gently along Weiss’s stomach, where there would have been a scar, had it not been for Jaune’s semblance. Yang thinks it’s a little unfair, because it looks too normal, like nothing had happened, but Weiss must have been terrified. She was probably still terrified. “No, I mean – I know your wound is fine, but that’s not what I meant. You almost died, Weiss.”

“But I didn’t – they’re gone, and I’m still standing here. Isn’t that all that matters?” She tilts her chin up in defiance, despite the crack in her voice.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay,” Yang says quietly, and Weiss flinches at the familiarity of the words.

“I’m really fine,” Weiss says as she gets to her feet unsteadily, pulling Yang up with her. “We’re all safe, and we’re finally all together again. How could I possibly not be okay? As long as I have you guys, I’ll be fine.” She takes Yang’s hand and gives her a reassuring smile that does nothing to assuage her fears.

Yang frowns, but doesn’t press the matter, because she knows that it’s a difficult thing to talk about, and that Weiss is going to need time to herself to process what’s really happened, and to accept the fact that she almost died, before she is really ready to talk to somebody else about it. So instead, she squeezes Weiss’s hand gently. “I can promise you that you’ll always have us, Weiss. And I’ll be here for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Weiss gives her a soft smile – the softest she’s ever seen on the other girl’s face – and she doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything so beautiful in her life. It makes her want to lean over and kiss her, but she refrains, because time and place.  

“Thank you, Yang.”

Blake raises an eyebrow at Sun and gestures towards the door. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

He reaches up, his hand curled into a fist, but then lets it fall back down. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Do you think they’ll be mad at me for leaving them?”

She blinks in surprise – this is not a side of Sun that she’s seen before. He had always been so laidback and sure of himself. “Of course they won’t, Sun. They’re your friends, and they’ll love you no matter how many stupid decisions you make. If my teammates could accept me for running away the way that I did, I think your teammates can accept you for going off to protect a friend.” 

He exhales nervously and hesitantly raps his knuckles against the door.

The door swings open to reveal Sage’s hulking form. His eyes widen and he freezes for a fraction of a second as he takes in the sight of Sun on his doorstep, a nervous smile on his face. And then he reaches over and punches Sun square in the jaw.

Sun clamps his hand over his jaw, where he’s sure there will be a bruise later, and his eyes widen in shock. “Hey!” he exclaims. “What the hell, Sage!”

“No note, no phone calls, nothing! For the past five months, we haven’t heard from you once. The last time we spoke to you, you told us you were helping Blake go after the White Fang! We had no idea if you were still alive! Would it have killed you to at least write a letter or something so we knew you were okay?” Sage thunders.

Blake winces at his angry tone and takes a step back. “Hey, Sage,” she says in an attempt to redirect his anger – after all, it’s her fault that Sun never made it back to his teammates in Mistral.

“Blake,” Sage says, the anger disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He blinks like he doesn’t believe she is standing there.

“I – ” She starts.

Sage reaches over and pulls her into a tight hug, cutting off whatever she was going to say. “I didn’t think we would ever see you again.”

Blake feels the guilt pooling in her stomach – the guilt that has been festering in her mind since she left Beacon, the guilt that has grown exponentially since Sun had talked some sense into her – and she feels herself shrinking in on herself. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles into his chest. She buries her face into his shoulder – she had forgotten how comforting Sage’s calm presence could be.

“I’m not mad at you,” he rumbles. “I’m sure you had your reasons for leaving.”

“Hey!” Sun complains. “How come she gets a free pass while I get a punch in the face?”

Sage releases Blake, and turns to glare at Sun. “She’s not our teammate, Sun, and she can take care of herself.”

“Why are you yelling, Sage?” Neptune ducks under Sage’s arm, with Scarlet in tow, to see what the commotion is about, and stares disbelievingly at Blake and Sun. And then he reaches over and punches Sun in the shoulder.

“What the hell, Nep!” he yelps, trying futilely to block the onslaught of punches raining down on him. “I hate you guys so much!”

“I have half a mind to stab you for leaving us hanging like that!” The punches die off and the relief in the air is palpable. “You said you were going to catch up! It shouldn’t take five months to catch up! You could have been dying in an abandoned alleyway for all we knew!”

Blake freezes at Neptune’s words, because even though she knows he’s only kidding, she can’t get the image of Sun’s unconscious body out of her mind, and she shivers at the memory.

Sun takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, I’m fine,” he says.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Neptune, and he exchanges a worried look with Sage. “Blake? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Sun reaches up with his other hand and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s kind of a long story,” he mumbles. One that he had been hoping he wouldn’t have to recount to his friends, because he’s sure they’re worried enough about him without knowing that he almost died.

“Well, you can tell us all about it over dinner,” Scarlet says stoutly. “And I swear to dust, Sun, if you ran off for five months to court Blake and didn’t tell us anything, I will murder you.” He gestures towards their linked hands before turning back around and re-entering the house.  

“You almost died?” Neptune bursts out. He turns to Blake and jabs his chopsticks in Sun’s general direction. “See? This is why we can never let him go off on his own – he doesn’t know what danger is! He needs a babysitter at all times.”

“Hey! That’s not true!” Sun interjects.

“It is,” Sage rumbles. “Remember that time when you thought it would be a good idea to take on a hoard boarbatusks by yourself instead of waking us up? And on our first mission, no less. You’re lucky we found you before you got mauled.”

“I had it under control!” Sun whines.

“Yea, because aura depletion and being pinned down by a boarbatusk constitutes having things ‘under control’,” Scarlet retorts sarcastically. “He’s a walking deathtrap.”

Sun grumbles incoherently, but says nothing to deny the fact.

“Did Sun ever tell you about the time that he ran across campus in his underwear – hey!” he snaps when a dumpling hits him square in the face. He wipes his face with his napkin and turns to level a glare in Sun’s direction. “Not cool, man.”

“Neither is telling Blake embarrassing stories about me,” he grumbles. He sulkily stuffs a dumpling into his mouth.

“He’s only mad because he likes you, and I’m making him look bad,” Scarlet whispers to her as he nudges her with his elbow.

If Sun hears his teammate’s remark, he chooses to ignore it, and Blake is grateful, because while she’s aware that his feelings for her extend far beyond friendship, she doesn’t think it’s an appropriate time or place to be discussing it.

“Why was he running around in his underwear?” she asks, redirecting their attention away from Scarlet’s statement.

“Blake!” Sun whines half-heartedly. “Stop encouraging him.”

“Because he was dumb enough to think that dumping Neptune in the local swimming pool would somehow help him get over his aquaphobia,” Sage says, completely ignoring Sun, as he helps himself to more rice.

“I’m not afraid of water!” Neptune scowls.

“Sure, you’re not,” Scarlet says as he waves his hands dismissively. “Anyways, Neptune was pissed and took his clothes while he was still in the pool –”

“One of these days, I’ll get you back,” Sun grumbles.

“At least I left your underwear – I could have just as easily taken everything and let you run around naked.”

“Here, we have pictures,” Scarlet says, effectively cutting them off before they can start a full-blown argument. He pulls his scroll out of his pocket.

“Scarlet!” Sun howls, his face reddening. He picks up another dumpling and flings it across the table at his teammate. “Shut up.”

This time, Scarlet is ready and he easily dodges. “I mean, it’s not much different from what he usually wears,” he continues as if having dumplings thrown at him was a regular occurrence. He gestures towards Sun’s unbuttoned shirt, and then winks at Blake. “I doubt you mind though, am I right?”

Blake flushes, because she would be lying through her teeth if she said she hadn’t caught herself staring at Sun’s abs on a few different occasions. She opens her mouth to give a response, but another dumpling hits Scarlet in the face before she has the chance.

“Stop that!” Scarlet growls, turning to glare in Sun’s direction. He gets out of his seat, picks up his bowl of rice and throws it at Sun.

“I present to you, Team SSSN, the future protectors of Remnant,” Sage sighs. He takes Scarlet’s seat and continues to calmly eat his dinner.  

“Um…shouldn’t we stop them?” Blake asks apprehensively as she watches Neptune pour a cup of tea down the back of Sun’s shirt.

“You know there’s no stopping those idiots once they get started.” He gives her a sidelong glance, observing quietly as Blake watches his team’s antics with a fond, nostalgic smile on her face. “Well, they may be idiots, but they’re still our idiots.”

His words seem to break her out of her reverie, and she turns back to him, her smile still in place. “Yes,” she agrees, “they are.”

“We really are glad that the two of you are okay.” He holds up a hand to stop her when she opens her mouth to apologize. “Don’t apologize, Blake. We get why you left, and we were okay with Sun following you. And at the end of the day, all that matters is that you two are here, and you’re safe.”

Blake breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realized how worried she was about Team SSSN’s reaction to her leaving or her coming back – after all, she was more worried about her own team – but hearing Sage say that, seeing how open and friendly the team still is with her, feels like a heavy weight being lifted off her chest. “I’m glad to see that nothing has changed. I think it’ll be good for him to be back with his team for a while. Maybe get away from all the fighting.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. He retains his calm demeanour, but his voice is surprised.

“I – I haven’t told Sun yet, but… we’re going to Atlas. As soon as we’re recovered.”

“And you don’t want to bring him with you?” he guesses.

“It’s not that I don’t want him to come along, but…” she bites her lip and glances back at the laughing trio. “I – I don’t want to take him away from his friends again, and I can’t risk him getting hurt because of me.”  

“You know he’ll never let you go off on your own, right? And you’re probably going to need all the help you can get.”

She frowns, because while she knows that he is right, she desperately wants to keep Sun away from Adam and Salem, and whatever other harm might befall him if he goes with her.

“Where are we going?” Sun asks, bounding back to his seat, followed by the rest of Team SSSN.

Sage gives her a very pointed look and she heaves a defeated sigh. “Atlas,” she mutters through gritted teeth. “We’re going to Atlas.”

“Well we’re coming with you guys this time, because there’s no way we’re letting you guys run off by yourselves again. Not after this guy –” Scarlet jerks his thumb in Sun’s general direction, “—almost died. He clearly needs some form of adult supervision at all times.”

“Yes,” Sage murmurs, a note of finality in his tone. “We have to make sure the idiot doesn’t get himself killed.”

And despite Sun’s grumbling and complaints, she doesn’t miss the bright smile that appears on his face. He might not show it, but he’s definitely missed his team.

Blake looks up in surprise when Yang takes a seat across the table from her. She isn’t sure how Yang managed to find her in the first place, since she’s at a small hole-in-the-wall kind of café that would be difficult to find if somebody wasn’t specifically looking for it. And she knows it’s not the kind of place that Yang would be looking for.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she says, her voice casual as she signals the waiter over and orders a coffee. “Sun told me you’d be here.”

“Of course he did,” she mutters. She closes the book she’d been reading and shifts in her seat so she’s fully facing Yang. It’s the first time that she’s been alone with Yang since the fall of Beacon – since she ran away – and she’s not sure what to expect. But Yang doesn’t look angry, or even upset; there’s a calmness that Blake rarely ever sees in her.

She’s thought about it – what to say when she sees Yang again, that is. She has a whole script written in her head of what she wants to say, how she wants to apologize, but she can’t bring herself to say any of it, because if there is one thing that Yang wouldn’t want, it’s a scripted apology. Instead, the words “I’m sorry” tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“Why did you do it?” she asks. Her hand trembles, and she tightens her grip on her coffee mug. “Why did you leave? Ruby, Weiss – we were all here for you. Nobody blamed you for what happened – you didn’t have to run away from us.”

She had confessed her fears to Sun – that her friends would hate her for leaving, that they wouldn’t take her back when she returned, or worse, that they hadn’t cared at all that she left. And he had assured her that that could never be true, because her friends loved her, and he had said it in that reassuring, genuine way of his that somehow always makes her think that he might actually be right. But now, as she stares at the forlorn look on Yang’s face, she isn’t so sure.

Blake looks down in shame and stares at her own reflection as it ripples on the surface of her tea. She thinks of how fragile a relationship can be – one wrong move and the whole thing can shatter. But then she thinks of how resilient her faith and trust in Adam had been, how many wrong moves he had made, and how many times she had forgiven him before she had finally had enough. And while she hopes that Yang isn’t as blind or naïve as she was back then, she hopes she will at least give her a second chance.

She finally looks up and Yang falters at the sheer desperation in her expression. “It didn’t matter that you guys didn’t blame me,” she says haltingly. “I blamed myself – it was my fault. He promised – he said he would take away everything I cared about. And I’ve known him long enough to know that he isn’t one for idle threats. You’ve seen what he’s capable of – he won’t stop at anything to kill you all.”

“And you think you could take him on all by yourself? He sliced through my arm like it was nothing – he would destroy you.”

“You think I didn’t know that when I ran? Of course I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I spent most of my life by his side – I know how powerful he is. I wasn’t planning to go after Adam, and if he came after me, then at the very least, I knew you guys would be safe. You, Ruby and Weiss are important to me. I wasn’t expecting to make friends when I came to Beacon, but somehow, the three of you became some of the most important people in my life, and I… I couldn’t stand the thought of any of you getting hurt. Especially because of me.”

“We can take care of ourselves, Blake! We aren’t children, and we’re well aware of the risks that we’re taking. Did you really think we would love you any less because of something that somebody else did?”

“I know,” Blake whispers, tears filling her eyes, “I know that. But you got hurt! If it wasn’t for my relationship with Adam, you would have been fine. I – I felt so scared and guilty, and I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I do best – I ran!”

“But you came back. I mean, I’m glad you did, but Adam is still out there, and like you said, he won’t stop. So why did you come back?”

“It was Sun. He made me realize that I wasn’t doing you guys any favours by running away; he made me realize that you guys are with me because you want to be, regardless of how dangerous or risky that might be.”  

“That boy is a lot less stupid than people give him credit for,” Yang says, giving her a small smile – a peace offering of sorts.

She breathes a soft sigh of relief. She had been expecting a lot of yelling and screaming, or at least the cold shoulder, but Yang seems to have pretty much forgiven her completely. “You are taking this far better than I was expecting,” she admits.

“It’s been a long time,” she says. “I won’t lie to you and say that I was never mad – I was really angry for a really long time. You left, Blake. You left when I was at my most vulnerable; you left, knowing that I’ve always had issues with being left behind.” She curls her hand into a fist and takes a steadying breath – it wouldn’t do to get riled up now. “You left without any explanation, without a goodbye, and it was just… all too familiar to me.

“I didn’t understand it then; maybe I was too upset to bother trying to understand why you left – it was easier just to blame you. But it’s been five months, and that’s a long time for me to think about it. And Weiss – Weiss helped. She helped me really understand why you did what you did. And even though I don’t completely agree with your way of thinking, I get it.”

“I am sorry,” she offers quietly. “I honestly didn’t care what you guys would think of me for running away. Well, I did care, but it didn’t matter – all that mattered was that you guys were safe.”  

“Well, like Ruby said, what matters now is that we’re all together. Just don’t do it again.” She sends a glare in Blake’s direction, but softens it with a smile, so that she knows she’s not really angry.

Blake relaxes a little in her seat and returns the smile with one of her own. “I won’t. Thank you…for understanding.”

“You have Weiss to thank for that,” Yang says. “Otherwise you would have had to do a lot more grovelling to get me to forgive you.”

Blake takes a sip of her tea. “You and Weiss?” she asks after a small pause.

Yang feigns ignorance and gives her a questioning look. “What about me and Weiss?” she asks.

She rolls her eyes and gives her a small smile. “You two certainly seem to be a lot closer than I remember – I mean, we all saw the hug that you gave her.”

“I guess. I mean, I think after being apart for so long, we all just need some time together.”

“You didn’t hug anybody else like that,” Blake points out, her eyes twinkling.

“And you definitely joke more than you did before. Which I guess isn’t saying very much, because you didn’t joke much before – or at all.” Yang smirks at her. “Was that Sun’s influence?”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorts. She looks away, hoping that Yang doesn’t see the redness creeping up her cheeks.

Yang grins. “What? Don’t tease me about Weiss if you can’t take the heat yourself.”

Blake mumbles something incoherent under her breath. She misses this – she hadn’t realized it while she was in Menagerie, but she misses Yang’s familiar banter, and she’s glad that amidst all the chaos and destruction, she hasn’t lost the carefree part of her personality. She reaches over and takes Yang’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’ve missed you guys a lot,” she admits. “I’ve missed my best friend too.”

She could have easily laughed or made a joke, and played off how much she actually missed Blake in the five months that they were apart, but she doesn’t. Instead, she smiles and says, “I’ve missed you too,” and it’s like the tension, and the five months apart disappear, and they’re just two best friends catching up at a café without a care in the world.

If Yang had to describe Weiss in one word, it would be graceful. Even when she fights, she looks like she’s dancing, and her sword is and just an extension of herself. The way she jumps and twirls, hopping from one Glyph to another is mesmerizing, and Yang can’t tear her eyes away.

“She’s certainly learned a few new tricks,” Ruby muses as she watches Blake and Weiss spar. “I’ve never seen her summon anything before.”

Yang turns to her sister and grins. “You haven’t seen anything yet. And your hand-to-hand combat has gotten a lot better. You handled yourself pretty well without Crescent Rose.”

“I learned that from Oscar,” she says proudly. “Well, I guess it was Professor Ozpin, but same difference.”

“You –” she cuts herself off and snaps her head back towards the battlefield when she hears a frightened scream. Her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the boarbatusk, the rapier wasp, and the knight that Weiss had summoned. She didn’t think it was possible for her to summon that many at once. She tears her eyes away from the Grimm to Weiss, and watches her draw up an ice wall, closing herself in, and sending Blake flying backwards.  

“Weiss?” she manages to get out, her voice tinged with panic. This time, she is the first one to break out of the shock that overcame the three of them, and she finds herself running towards Weiss without even thinking about it. “Weiss!” she yells as she bangs her fist against the unrelenting ice. “Weiss!”

“Get out of the way!” Ruby orders in such a commanding voice that Yang doesn’t even think of disobeying.

Yang turns around to find her sister wielding Crescent Rose, ready to fire towards the ice, and jumps out of the line of fire. “What happened?” she demands of Blake, even though she thinks she might already know the answer.

“I – I don’t know,” she says, sounding slightly disoriented. She pushes herself into a sitting position and rubs the back of her head. “We were just sparring, but then she started screaming. I think she said something about Cinder. She looked terrified, Yang.”

The sound of the ice cracking pulls Yang’s attention away from their conversation, and she runs towards Weiss’s unconscious body. She releases the breath she’d been holding when she sees the steady rise and fall of Weiss’s chest. She gently lifts her from the debris and pulls her into a protective hug.

“Maybe we should bring her to Uncle Qrow,” Ruby suggests worriedly as she jogs over. “Or Professor Ozpin.”

“R-right,” Yang stutters as she clumsily tries to pick Weiss up, because her heart is still racing in her chest and her fingers are frozen with fear.

“I’ve got her,” Blake says gently. She reaches over to take the unconscious girl, but Yang, despite her trembling hands, keeps a tight grip on her. “Yang, you’re going to drop her.”

Reluctantly, she lets Blake take Weiss, but she keeps a hold of her hand the whole way into the hotel, where Ozpin and her uncle are talking.

“What the hell happened?” Uncle Qrow demands, jumping up from his seat on the couch when he sees Weiss, unconscious in Blake’s arms.

“Help her,” Yang pleads desperately, as if she didn’t hear the question. “Please, Uncle Qrow.”

Qrow curses under his breath as he takes Weiss from Blake. “You three, stay here. Oz and I will make sure she’s okay.” He doesn’t wait for any of them to say anything before he disappears into Weiss and Blake’s hotel room.

She moves to follow, but Blake stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “Let them figure it out,” she says quietly. “There’s nothing you can do for her.” She sits down on the sofa and pulls Yang down with her. “Do you know what happened?”

Yang leans over and buries her face in her hands as she tries to swallow the fear that is building up in her throat. “I have a pretty good idea. I think she saw Cinder,” she says after a short pause.

“Cinder?”

She looks up and rubs her eyes tiredly. “Yea. Weiss – she almost died. During the battle. Cinder almost killed her. She – she wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Jaune.”

“Oh.” Blake frowns at her hands, wondering if something she did during their spar triggered Weiss. “I – I had no idea.”

Yang feels the old anger flaring up again, because Blake should have been there to help Weiss, and if she had been, maybe Weiss would have been okay. There’s a small, rational part of her that’s telling her she’s being unfair, but unable to stop herself, her eyes flash red and she lashes out, “You would have known if you hadn’t left us. You could have been there for her.”

Blake falters, because this is the first time that Yang has shown any anger towards her for running, and she flinches at the harsh tone, guilt gnawing at her conscience. She has to remind herself that Yang’s anger stems mostly from her panic at seeing Weiss’s unconscious form, and not (she hopes) resentment towards her, even if she would be justified in her anger.

She sighs, her eyes slowly fading back to lavender. “I’m sorry,” she says, sounding regretful. “I – I don’t mean that. I’m just worried. She just recovered from having almost died, and seeing her unconscious again is just a little much right now.”

Blake shakes her head. “It’s fine. I get it, you’re scared. She’s strong, Yang. She’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so, Blake. I really hope so.”

Weiss feels like she’s falling. She reaches a hand out, but there is nothing but the expanse of blackness that surrounds her.  She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out, and it feels like the blackness is closing in around her, drowning her in nothingness, and she’s suffocating.

She bolts upright in bed, gasping for breath. She hunches forward and draws in a few deep breaths, trying to steady her beating heart. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears from falling, she lets a quiet sob escape, and her shoulders tremble. Dreams were supposed to fade, but the feeling of darkness pulling her down, suffocating her, and the lack of air in her lungs still feels so real.

“—eiss. Weiss. Weiss!”

Somebody tries to wrap an arm around her shoulder, and panic sets in. She weakly shoves them away, and instinctively reaches for Myrtenaster. But it isn’t there. So instead, she blindly throws a punch. But she was never one for hand-to-hand combat, and they easily catch her fist, gently uncurling her fingers and slipping their hand in hers to give her a reassuring squeeze. Only then does her vision start to clear, and she finds Yang sitting in a chair next to her bed, a concerned expression on her face.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay, I got you.” She takes a seat on the bed next to Weiss and pulls her into a hug and cradles her head with her other hand, gently smoothing her hair down.

Weiss rests her chin on Yang’s shoulder and stares unseeingly at the wall in front of her, as Yang whispers comforting words into her ear. The tears slide silently down her cheeks and land on Yang’s shoulder, forming a wet splotch on her shirt.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Yang asks quietly. She wants to give her space to recover. She wants to give her room to breathe and think. But there just isn’t time for that.

“I don’t know,” Weiss whispers, her voice hoarse. “I think I just need to rest.”

“Bullshit!” Yang says, a steely edge to her voice. She pulls away from the hug so that she can look the other girl in the eyes. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You didn’t completely lose control of your Semblance because you weren’t sleeping enough. Stop pretending like everything is okay! You’re not okay, and if you keep suppressing everything the way that you’re doing right now, you’re never going to be okay! Damn it, Weiss, you are one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t bear to see you get hurt! So please. Talk to me! It’s killing me to see you hurting like this!”

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeats over and over. But there’s an undertone of desperation, and she’s not sure if she’s trying to convince Yang or herself.

“No, you’re not! And it’s okay that you’re not, but don’t push us out! We want to help you, and you’re not letting us.”

“I don’t need your help – I just need some time to myself! Why can’t you leave me alone?!”

“Because I love you, okay? I love you and I don’t want to – I can’t – watch you die again.”  

“But I – what?” Weiss stutters, her sentence coming to a halt as Yang’s words finally sink in.  

“I love you, Weiss” she says, her voice softening, and the anger melting off her face. She tenderly cups Weiss’s face with both her hands. “I love you. So please, stop shutting us out. If not for yourself, then for the people who care for you. For the people who don’t want to see you get hurt. For me.”

Weiss leans into her hands and closes her eyes, and she sags against Yang. And it’s like the barrier – the walls that she surrounded herself with – is finally breaking, because while she’s a Schnee, with a heart of ice, and blood that runs blue, she’s also Weiss, fragile and broken, with so much love that she doesn’t know what to do with it. And she can’t, won’t, keep hiding behind the mask of a cold, unfeeling Schnee, because she is Weiss first, and a Schnee second.  

“It’s just – it’s all just too much to handle,” she murmurs, her bottom lip quavering. “I – I really thought I was okay. Everything was fine – until today.”

Yang waits quietly, patiently, for her to continue, because this moment seems so fragile, like glass, and it might shatter if she opens her mouth.

“I thought… I thought it was her. When Blake threw Gambol Shroud at me, I saw her, and I – I panicked. I don’t remember much else after that,” she admits in a soft whisper. “What happened?”

“You collapsed, Weiss,” Yang says quietly. “Uncle Qrow said that your Aura was depleted. Not surprising, considering how you summoned three things at once and erected an ice barrier. We thought you were going to be out for much longer. We pushed the departure back a few days to let you recuperate.”

Weiss exhales slowly. “How – how can I fight with you guys when I’m like this? I – I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Weiss – you’re never going to be a burden. You will be fine – I promise it gets better, but it won’t happen overnight. What you need right now is rest. You’re exhausted, Weiss, mentally and physically exhausted.”  

“I can’t – there’s no time for that!” She goes to stand up, but Yang grabs her wrist, keeping her in place.  

She leans over and presses her lips against Weiss’s, and there’s the sweet taste of vanilla mixed with the saltiness of the tears sliding down Weiss’s face, and there’s something sweet and sad and melancholic about the kiss.

Weiss leans into the kiss, returning it with a touch of desperation, because it still feels like a dream to her, and she wants so badly for it to be real. She pulls away slowly and stares at Yang’s tired face.

“Rest, Weiss. Please,” she pleads. She gently pushes her back into bed.

Weiss hesitates, wondering to herself if she’ll be overstepping her boundaries, and really unsure of what to say. “Uh…” she shifts over to give Yang space. “Stay with me,” she blurts out, and it comes out sounding more like a question than a demand, which was what she intended (because she was never taught to ask for something). She flushes at how awkward she must have sounded. “Only if you want to,” she adds in a rushed voice when Yang just stares at her with wide eyes.

She starts panicking, although she tries not to let it show, because maybe she is overstepping. She doesn’t know what affection looks like, because her parents have never been affectionate with each other, and her sister – she cares, of course she cares, but she’s far from affectionate. But Weiss wants the affection – she wants to feel Yang’s warmth against her skin, she wants to feel Yang’s arms around her making her feel safe, she wants to be so close to Yang that she can feel her heart beating and hear her breathing. Weak, she can hear her father telling her. ‘Affection will only make you weak.’ But that can’t be right, because Yang is the warmest, most loving person that she knows, and she’s also one of the strongest.

She opens her mouth to take back her request, to apologize for making assumptions, but Yang smiles, and she feels like she forgot how to talk.

Yang crawls under the blanket next to her and envelopes her into a hug. “Anything for you.”  She kisses the top of Weiss’s head. “Now, please go to sleep.”

Weiss gives a watery laugh and curls into Yang and finally lets her eyelids shut. This time, no nightmares plague her dreams.  

A/N: Awkward ending is awkward as usual. I don’t even know what this is anymore, but take it before I hate it even more. 

#rwby #freezerburn #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #scarlet david #sage ayana #otp: i'm here for you #word vomit

[tetragon4-blog]

The Identity of Ano Kata

Today, I would like to reflect on an idea that came to me when I re-read some of the speculations about the Black Organization, and especially its boss, ano kata. Since I haven’t seen this theory floating around yet, I am claiming it as my own.

 It is possible that Aoyama has been misleading us intentionally: At the beginning, some people considered Vermouth aka Sharon Vineyard to be ano kata in secret, mainly because she is able to move more freely than her colleagues. However, the fandom discounted her altogether, after somebody sent her a text message that orders her back. Aoyama’s earlier hint that there is a relationship between the boss and Vermouth that exceeds employer and subordinate has since been forgotten. Few speculations take this into account, although it probably is NOT a red herring. She takes more liberties than the other members, she is not as afraid as them of being killed as punishment. It is likely that there is some form of attachment between her and the boss that is akin to a safety net should her deceit become known. I doubt that her gratefulness to Shinichi would be enough for her to risk her own life multiple times to save his.

Now, there is not much that we can say about Vermouth, because her identity is shrouded in darkness and lies. However, she is committed to one saying that might be the key to understanding her role in the black organization:

“A secret makes a woman woman.”

Keeping in mind that we are dealing with a mystery manga that incorporates fictional characters of Western stories, there is only one woman: Irene Adler whom Sherlock Holmes referred to as “the woman.” Although her role is very restricted in Doyle’s universe, she has been immortalized through countless adaptations, wriggling her way into the limelight. I can see some parallels between Adler and Vermouth, mainly her appeal, the cleverness, and of course, like Adler and Holmes’ first encounter, her first showdown with Conan was based on compromising pictures.

Now, there is a second oddity around Vermouth that is worth mentioning: She calls Conan and Akai silver bullets. This is a metaphor, of course, and the medium of comparison is their intention to take down the boss/organization. But there is another element to this curious phrase: Silver bullets take down werewolves. What if werewolf is a reference to the boss?

There is a non-canonical theory that Irene Adler had a child with Sherlock Holmes: Nero Wolfe, the detective of the eponymous novels. In Japanese, the pronunciation of were and Nero are very close to one another, because the w is not realized as as a /v/ sound as in violence, but rather as the ou in the French oui. The l and r are basically the same sound, and due to that, werewolf and Nero Wolfe are almost homophones (words that have the exact same pronunciation).

Since Adler is the “mother” of Nero Wolfe, this leaves us with two possible readings:

1.       Vermouth was ano kata at one point, but lost the position, making the organization her brain “child”, respectively

2.       Ano kata is literally her child.

3.       Possibility 1 and 2 are not mutually exclusive.

 Before I go any further down the rabbit hole, I would like to address the relationship between Vermouth and the boss once more. We know that their interests diverge, pointing towards the fact that they are different people: On one hand, Vermouth is attempting to protect Conan, on the other hand the boss encourages Bourbon to get close to Mouri. It is not clear whether there is an open disagreement between Vermouth and ano kata, or whether she is going along with the situation. However, the two of them are distinct people with different goals, no matter how they are related to one another.

  In fact, it is quite likely that the original boss who started the research on APTX is not the current ano kata. Unless they are stuck like Vermouth, the person would have to be at least 70, if not 80 years old, because the BO began investigating aging processes more than half a century ago. Few is known about their initial interest, and I am deliberately vague on this term. So far, we have had the shrinking effect, which seems to revert its victims to youth. Then there’s Vermouth who stopped aging. It is possible that, at some point, the organization researched how to age up people’s cells until they die, too. Assuming that Vermouth was at most a victim of the earlier experiments, that would render her about 70 years of age, and a child of hers 50 years at max. However, her hatred of the Miyano family may hint at their involvement in her condition. Since Ai’s parents took over the research project about 30 years before the current timeline, that would make Vermouth at most 50 years of age, and put a child at about 30 years. This is actually a curious timing, because I deduced in Vermouth’s Curse that “she has looked 28 years of age since at least since 21 years ago”. This would put her at 49 “lived” years. If Nero Wolfe refers to a biological child of hers, then it would be less than 30 years of age.

There is also some evidence of a change in leadership when you consider the muddy history of APTX: The “first” boss seemed to be very interested in the project, so much as to involve a foreign researcher without ties into the organization (Miyano Elena) and her husband. Yet, after the lab burnt down about 17 years ago, the project was scrapped entirely. At first glance, it might seem like all research data was lost in the fire, but Ai claims that when she took over, the organization provided her with the past results. There was no reason not to employ other researchers in the following years. Yet, the project was put on indefinite halt.

It is actually possible to pinpoint a rough date as to when a change in leadership might have occurred: Five years before the current timeline, the organization suddenly reached out to Shiho, and groomed her to continue her parents’ work. Their interest in the project suddenly pops up again. Also, for the first time, we may safely conclude the purpose of the research, because Pisco comments that Shiho managed to advance the project when he sees her child-like form. APTX is supposed to regain youth, not just stop the aging process like it did with Vermouth. It is not about re-creating that effect.

As such, it is likely that the boss’ identity changed roughly five years ago.

  Now, if we assume that Sharon was actually Vermouth’s real identity, because her supposed age matches the age I determined through logical conclusions:

Her husband might have been the real deal, too.

As such, we need to re-evaluate our information concerning Chris Vineyard, the supposedly alter ego of Sharon.

  Yes, I am finally at the stage where I may proudly state my theory: Sharon’s supposedly fictional daughter Chris is ano kata. She took over after ceding her identity to her mother who approached the end of her ability to mask her lack of aging.

Of course, there is no proof, but there are certain aspects that point towards the fact that it is POSSIBLE.

1.       The song Nanatsu no Ko that is associated with the boss is about a mother crow feeding her chicks. Crow is a homophone of the Japanese word Kuro, which means black. It is not farfetched to assume that ano kata is female, because the phone number may belong to the “mother” of the black organization.

2.       Chris is supposed to be 29 years old. Thus, she fits the profile.

3.       It is difficult for people to completely shield their private life. Sharon had been in the public eye for about 20 years, because she was already famous when she met Yukiko at Toichi’s. Depending on this calculation, Chris would have been nine years old, and Sharon cannot have posed as a child due to the different body structure. Either Chris appeared out of nowhere as an adult, or there must have been a child at some point.

4.       In an interview, Chris once claimed that the relationship with her mother is strained. This might have been a cheap lie to explain that they were never seen together in the same place (being the same person), or maybe there is a grain of truth in this statement: Vermouth’s relationship with ano kata is strained, too, after all.

5.       It would explain ano kata’s interest in regaining youth. She now is older than her own mother, being 29 while her mother appears to be around 25 years of age. It would also explain why Vermouth is dead-set against the boss finding out about the shrinking effect. She may not wish her own fate on her daughter, having to watch as everybody else withers and dies.

  I really would like a twist like this to become canon, because the manga is dragging it out, and if the reveal fails to be surprising, it would be quite disappointing. Also, a female boss would fit with Aoyama’s tendency to represent women in power positions, which is rare in shounen manga.

#theory #detective conan theory #detective conan #meta #vermouth #ano kata #black organization