#is it a hint?? are they gonna do something there? also why did Jeff shove the camera in Tintin's face like this lmao but he's so pretty

[micuko]

"Rajamangala stadium"

#kkkk #is it a hint?? are they gonna do something there? also why did Jeff shove the camera in Tintin's face like this lmao but he's so pretty #jeff satur #barcode tinnasit #jeffbarcode #kinnporsche cast #kpts cast #Jeff's laughter #video

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You knew each other as children, before everything changed. Now your paths cross again.

Pairing: Tom and y/n.

Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.

Warnings:  This story will contain themes such as kidnapping, murder, violence and smut. Also a lot of swearing. Also descriptions of injuries. Death of characters (never tom or y/n). Also alcohol, smoking and mentions of drugs.  this is a +18 story

Trigger warnings for this chapter: Smut in this chapter.  Sort of dom/sub vibes but nothing extreme. female oral, male oral. unprotected sex. smoking. mention of gun. one single spank. Sort of edging.

A/N: This is a relationship that I wouldn’t recommend in real life. Also, the Firm was the name of the Kray twins gang. I was just too lazy to come up with a name of my own.  

READ PART I HERE

READ PART II HERE

READ PART III HERE

READ PART IV HERE

READ PART V HERE

London, 1961

                                                       ***

                           my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder

                                                jeff buckley

                                                       ***

On a hard mattress, in a dusty room in Mile End, Tom makes you honey-voiced promises in-between kisses.  

“One day I’ll take you to the Ritz” he says as he’s moving his way down your body, leaving sweet wet kisses in his wake.  

“I’ll have them fill the bathtub with pink champagne and we’ll swim in it until we’re loose-limbed and starry eyed.” He places himself in-between your legs. Lifting your tight he kisses you open-mouthed on the sensitive skin.  

“I’ll feed you dark and ripe and sweet cherries directly from the stem. You’ll never have cherries again without thinking of me. They’ll never taste the same after.” He bites down of your soft flesh, though just teasingly so; the sensation sending bolts of pleasure up your spine.  

“I’ll dress you in silk, and lace, and pearls and diamonds” he continues before blowing hot air on the tiny bite mark and involuntarily you moan, not expecting it to feel as intense as it does. He smirks up at you. 

His hair is a mess. You imagine yours is as well. You’ve been at it all night, only stopping for short intervals of sleep before one of you would start grinding against the other again. You’re sore all over, in a way that makes you feel blessed.  

“Like a gentleman I’ll take you to the nice hotel bed” he says as he cups your cunt, teasing you; unnecessarily so since you’re already wet and ready for him. You buck up against his hand but he just removes it. 

“Then I’ll fuck you like the bastard I really am” he finishes, lightly spanking your cunt, not with a lot of force, but with an open hand. 

“Tom” you whine.  

“Princess?” he teases, a grin on his face.

“I want to taste you” you say and watch as his face freezes, his eyes moving down to your lips.  

“Really?” he asks, somewhat stunned.  

In response you shove his chest gently, until he’s laying on his back beside you. You move, so that you’re in perfect position. You peek up at him through your lashes and he looks at you with something like amazement in his dark gaze as you lower your head closer to his cock. You can see the muscles in his stomach tensing in anticipation. You place your hand around him. He’s thick. Pulling the foreskin back you lick him around the crown. A sharp intake of breath from Tom, and then you place your mouth around his tip and you suck.

Slowly you learn to take more of him down your throat. In between efforts there’s wet and playful licks around his shaft, one of your hands around his girth; moving up and down, the other hand teasing his balls. You wish you could take all of him inside you. You suck on his tip, where he’s leaking precum, and you find you love the musky taste of him. He has a hand in your hair, not forcing you down; just gently holding on to you, almost as if in support. He’s helping you find a rhythm, moving his hips in the pace you set. Broken sounds and groans falling from his lips unrestrained. He’s calling you his good fucking girl. He’s getting closer, you can tell, and he’s so hard in your fist. You suck him harder. His thrusts get wilder and the hand in your hair turns into a fist as he holds on to you for dear life. His groans and moans grow louder and louder and something like a whimper falls from his lips as you finally manage to take all of him down your throat. When you do you look up at him and meet his eyes.  

“Fuck” and his voice is a broken sound “gonna fucking come” he warns, releasing his hand from your hair, giving you the option to pull away. You don’t, and he comes down your throat and you swallow every drop of him, sucking him all the way through his orgasm.  

You lay down beside him on the bed. You can feel how your cheeks are flushed and you bite your lower lip, looking at him with a grin. His chest is heaving, his eyes half-closed.

“Fucking hell” he says, almost in disbelief. He turns to look at you with dark, bewildered eyes. “You know, you look so sweet and innocent. Was worried about corrupting you, you know? But now I’m starting to think you’re the one who’s corrupting me”. He reaches out a hand and cradles your face, before pulling you closer with his other arm, pressing you tight against him. His naked body is warm against yours. He strokes with his thumb over your cheek and it’s gentle and sweet and a feeling flutter like the wings of butterflies in your stomach. The exact same feeling people have been singing about since they knew how to sing. You take in his face. Freckled skin stretched over white bones, dark eyelashes framing his sleepy star-filled, caramel eyes, crinkling at the sides as his thin lips widen in a smile.

He holds his arm around you, holding you to his chest, your foreheads pressed together. Like this you fall asleep for a few hours.  

*

It is raining outside. 

Maybe it had always rained, even as he held you and fucked you against the wall in the living room. It seemed a meaningless detail to have noticed at the time. You had been to occupied with Tom, too full of him. For all you would have cared the world could have crumbled around you.

You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your lips are swollen from kisses, your eyes still heavy with sleep and you wonder if the blush will ever fade from your cheeks. Washing your hands you walk out to rejoin Tom in the bedroom.  

It’s early afternoon now. He had woken you a few hours earlier. Had brought a plate and a knife and a pomegranate to bed and you had watched as he cut the fruit wide open, spread it out in front of you. He fed you the sweet seeds along with excuses for not having anything else to offer you. 

It was messy and raw and delicious. Juice dripping down your chin and he’d kissed you clean.  

Raindrops are crashing against the window in the bedroom as well and it’s blowing up a storm outside. The walls are of a faded green pattern, and the only furnishment in the room a wrought iron bed and beside it a wooden bedside table, on which lay an ashtray, a copy of Goethe’s Faust and a gun.  

And on top of the bed is Tom, still without clothes, and smoking. He’s unashamed in his nudeness; not attempting to hide any part of himself but laid back against the white pillows, cigarette in hand. For a second you stay on the threshold, just observing him. His wide muscular shoulder and defined stomach; a happy trail leading down to his partially erect cock.  

You’re lay down beside him, lean against his shoulder. You’re fucked out and exhausted; your whole body still numb from bliss. The wind blows even harder outside, the windows rattling from the force of it, and you shiver. Tom stretches out his arm and picks up the blanket from where it’s been discarded on the floor and he throws it over you, covers his own lower body with is as well. For a while you lay there in silence and listen to the storm.  

“Who did you lose it to?” he asks at last and blows out smoke into the room.

“Lose what?” you respond, confused.  

“Your virginity” he says. He doesn’t sound intrusive or insistent, just curios. “I mean, we went to the same school after all, did I know him?”

“Yeah” you say, hesitantly, “well, after you left school I went out with Jamie for a little bit”.

You feel his entire body tense beside you. “Jamie Easom?” he asks, disbelief clear in his voice. You don’t look up to meet his gaze, though you can tell he’s angled his face towards yours. Instead you keep your eyes on your blanket-covered feet.  

“In his car” you admit “when we were seventeen”.  

He huffs, and maybe you’re imagining it, but you think the arm around your shoulder tighten slightly. Otherwise he seems unfaced as he drags in another breath from his cigarette.

“Can I taste?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

He raises his eyebrows but looks amused. “You never tried it?”

You shake your head in response. “Daddy would have lost his mind if I came home smelling like smoke”.

His smiles widen and the corners of his caramel eyes crinkles. “You won’t like it, you know. No one does, not at first”.

“Then why do you do it?”

He shrugs. “It sticks with you”

“I just want to try it” you press him.  

He sighs, “alright” he says, though there’s still a slight hint of amusement to his voice, lacing his words, “just one drag”.  

Slowly he moves his hand to your lips and you see faded cuts and scars all over his knuckles, his brown eyes sparkling as he looks down at you. His other hand is cupping your face, stroking your cheek. You place your lips around the cigarette and inhale smoke. It feels dry and warm in your throat but somehow you manage not to cough as you blow the white smoke out into the air.  

You wrinkle your nose and look up at him. “Taste awful” you admit.  

He smile widens, “told you so” ha says and moves the cigarette away from you, placing it between his own two lips again.  

You snuggle up closer to him, and his arm tightens around you.  

After that first night you’d met part of you had wondered if maybe you’d made him up. Wondered if he truly excited. If a man like him really could exist; so full of opposites. It was as if he was more than mortal man. More smoke and mirror than person; more idea than human being.    

You want to unwrap him, un-layer him; spread him open and make sense of him. You want to understand him and see through the smoke and facade.  

You touch his chest and feel a heartbeat underneath, steady and slow.  

“What did you think of me, back then, when we were in school?” you ask, because you’ve always wanted to know. With your hand on his chest you wish you could count the heartbeats it takes for him to answer, but it is an impossible feat.  

“Thought you were too good for the likes of me” he says and takes a final draw from his cig, before putting it out on the ashtray. “Thought you were too good for the likes of Jamie too” he says and the smile he gives you is laced with something tender you don’t yet have a name for.  

“Thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen” he says and smiles. “Used to dream about you all the time.”  

“That’s not true” you say before you can stop yourself, because honestly, the idea of him having wanted you already then feels unfathomable.  

“You calling me a liar?” He asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at you, mock stern written all over his face.  

“Well, what did you use to dream about then?”  

He’s silent for a while as he takes you in, eyes dancing over your features. Then he moves a hand down under the blanket, and cups your cunt with it. He leans down until his mouth is against your ear and he whispers, “I used to dream I could kiss you here”. Gently he presses his finger over your clit.

He pulls off the blanket guides your bodies until you lay spread out in front of him. “Used to wonder what you’d taste like, if you’d taste as sugary as you look”. He leans down and licks your slit, and you want to whimper. He licks you again and he groans.

“Fuck, you taste just like heaven”. He kisses the inside of your thighs, the slight stub on his cheeks burning your skin in the best way.  

“I used to lay in bed at night and wonder how you’d like it” he confesses, before giving your other leg the same treatment, leaving kisses little love-bites all over your skin.  

“I thought l’d start off slow, just kissing you here first” he continues and looks at you, spread out as you are for him, with hungry eyes. Then he does kiss you, in almost a gentle way he presses his mouth to your cunt, just dipping his tongue inside, before really going in for it, almost fucking you with his tongue. You bite your lower lip as you watch him, his mop of brown, dishevelled hair in-between your legs.  

“Or maybe you’d want me to suck you right here” he says and moves his mouth to just above your clit. “Maybe you’d want me to flick it with my tongue until you’re so wet and desperate for my fingers you’ll beg me for more.”  

He licks your entire cunt with wide strokes before moving his mouth back to your clit, pressing the gentlest of kisses against it. “I laid in my bed and i thought, circles” he continues, “just around, and around, and around, and around; slow and steady until you’d claw my back and your back’s arching and you are screaming for more. Until you won’t even know your own name, just mine”. He blows hot air on your aching bud and you buck up against him instinctively. Looking up at you he smiles cockily. 

“Tom, please” you beg, desperate for more; for his tongue, for his fingers, for his cock, for anything.  

“Please what?” he asks. Then he places his mouth around your clit and he sucks. 

Your back arches and your tights tighten around him. “Please, fuck me” you beg.

“No” he says and smiles smugly. He moves up until he’s hovering over you, his face just centimeters from yours.  

“You kept me awake all night, rubbing up against me and begging me to fuck you. Begging me to fuck you harder and faster. To fucking come all over you”. His voice is hoarse and low and he inserts first one finger, and then another inside you, spreading you open. He’s looking at you with hungry eyes. 

“Begging me to fuck you again” he starts to pump his fingers, in and out of you, “and again” he twists them, hitting your spot and for a second everything goes white as sheer pleasure goes thunders through you, “and again”. You’re a moaning mess and he smiles down on you, mouth in a crooked grin. 

“You really are a wicked fucking girl, aren’t you?” he murmurs in your ear. 

He moves his long fingers faster, fucks you with them in such a speed all you can do is buck your hips against him and beg. Beg for him to please, please, please fuck you.  

But the more you beg the slower he goes with his hand, all the while wearing a Cheshire cat grin. You slap your hands against his chest in frustration; buck your hips up against him even higher.  

“Now, now” he says in a warning. He grabs hold of your hand, stopping it from slapping his chest again. His other hand keeps torturing you; continues to push his long fingers in and out of you. His brown locks fall over his face and there’s a glint of mischief in his warm eyes. He really does look devilish.  

“You’re just like a little kitten, aren’t you?” he says huskily, pressing his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, but with nowhere near enough pressure. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm that will shake your entire world and he knows it, is intent on keeping you there, just on the brink of it. You can feel wet running down your slit and pool in-between your legs and honestly, you would have felt ashamed if you hadn’t been so turned on. You have never known desperation like this. 

“You’re all big eyes and teeth and claws when you want something, aren’t you?” He adds, before he leans down to kiss you, it’s opened mouthed and wet and slow. You bite his bottom lip, hard enough to show him that yes, just like him you’re all teeth and claws when you want something badly enough.  

He pulls away, still smiling down at you with that smug face. “No one ever told you princess? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar”.  

“Please” you beg again because it seems to be the only word left in your brain, the need to come having destroyed everything else. Your voice is thick with want.  

“Say pretty please” Tom says, kissing your jaw, continuing to massage your g-spot with his fingers.  

“Pretty please” you whine as you try to buck up against him again.  

You can feel him smile as he kisses your throat. “Say pretty please, Tom”.  

“Pretty please, Tom”  

He moves away from your neck and looks down on you again. His cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, dark curls askew and wicked smile in place. You finally know why they call him the devil’s boy.  

He moves his thumb over the outline of your lips. They are swollen and wet from his kisses. He’s examining the handiwork.  

Then, in a lower voice he says, “say pretty please Tom, fuck me so hard I forget I’ve ever met Jamie Easom”. 

He grinds the fingers inside you both faster and harder, wet slapping sounds filling the room as he hits just the right spot every time. He moves his thumb over your lip again, resting the rest of his hand against your throat. “Say pretty please Tom, fuck me so good I can never have sex again without thinking about you.”  

It’s like there’s a live wire inside your body, sending out sparks of pure unadulterated pleasure. It’s like you’re looking up at him through a cloud of nearly painful bliss.

You repeat his words.  

He removes his hands from you and in a swift movement he flips you over before grabbing you around your stomach, pulling you until your back is pressed flush up against him. He guides himself inside you a mewling sound fall from your lips and a low groan from his. With a hand around your throat, not pressing; just holding you there, and the other on the place where both your bodies meet.

“Alright?” he asks, the single word coming out breathless and rough in your ear.  

You nod feverently, and honestly; had you felt more at your senses you would have laughed, for alright didn’t cut it. Alright didn’t describe the ticking bomb inside you, waiting to go off and leave you in a state of white bliss. You place your hands on his, over your throat and on your cunt and together you start moving.

Like this he fucks you. Moves you up and down his hard length until your both fighting for air, a thin layer of sweat covering your bodies. And outside the winds grow stronger and the rain fall harder, though you both ignore it. And in the living room a phone keeps ringing and there’s a banging on the dooor, though you both ignore it.   

The entirety of the world has been reduced to is his body, moving in and out of yours.  

Wet slapping sounds as you move against each other. His hand on your throat, his groans in your ear, as his rhythm grows wilder and thrusts grows harder. Your hand, placed over his; placed over your clit, moves in rapid pace. You’re both touching you and his groans in your ear grow louder and your whimpers more desperate.  

“What’d you need?” he asks, his voice so low and gruff in your ear, his south London accent clearer than ever.  

“Harder” is the only thing you manage to press out between mewls of pleasure.

He lets go of your body, pushes you forward until you’re on your hands and knees for him and with his hands on your hips he slams in to you; one time, two times, three times.  

And then the whole world goes white as you come around him.    

***

In the other room there are hushed voices. You stir, feeling disorientated for a few seconds as you look around.

Tom is gone, and you are alone in bed.  

You look around for your clothes but then remember that your dress still lay discarded in the living room. So you pull up the sheets around you, making sure you’re completely covered, and you open the door.  

Tom is standing in the hall in just his trousers, facing a blond man your age with a bandaged shoulder. They both have frustrated looks on their faces and they were clearly in the middle of a discussion, but upon hearing the bedroom door open they both turn to face you.  

The blond man’s eyebrows raise as he takes you in, naked part from the sheets you’re clutching to your body, hair askew and dark hickeys all over your neck. Then he looks to Tom and the claw marks he has all over his chest and back. 

“This is why you didn’t come back to give your report to Fabien?” he says to Tom. “For a fucking shag? Do you have any idea how fucking livid he is with you?”

You can’t see Tom’s face, as he’s turned to face the other man again, but it’s like the air in the room changes in the silence. Like the very atmosphere around the brown eyed boy is loaded with silent threats.  

“How about you let me deal with Fabien, Haz? Yeah? Like I’ve always been able to do”. His voice is low and quiet, yet chills travel down your spine. “So how about you go down the car and wait for me and I’ll come with you in a minute, alright?”  

Haz doesn’t answer, but throws you a last glance before heading out the door. He hadn’t looked annoyed or angry, but rather he’d looked at you with eyes full of curiosity. Tom closes the door behind his friend, leans his forehead against it and sighs heavily.  

Then, head still pressed against the closed door he mutters “sorry, I gotta go”.  

“Can I stay?” you ask, trying not to sound as hopeful as you feel.  

“Your daddy will be wondering where you’ve gotten to” he says, turns around and walks right passed you and into the bedroom, where he picks up his shirt and suspenders and begin to pull them on.  

“I’ll call and tell him I’m sleeping at a friend’s house” you say, though you hate how desperate it comes out. “He never asks any questions.”  

Tom sighs again, sit down on the bed and begins to lace up his boots. “Sorry, but I’ll don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m back. It’s better if you leave.” You can’t help but notice that he’s avoiding your eyes. “So put on your dress and me and Haz will see you safely home, alright”.  

It’s the way he says ‘alright’. He had sounded the same when he was speaking to Haz out in the hall. It wasn’t a request, it was an order. He takes the gun from the nightstand and place it in his holster, hides it under his jacket.  

You clutch on tighter to the fabric around you, and bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying. “Will I ever see you again?” you ask, voice trembling slightly.  

A final sigh, and then he’s standing in front of you, fully dressed and ready to take on the world all on his own again, while you’re here clutching on to a blanket and trying not to weep. He cups your face; makes you look him in the eye. He looks sad behind his stoic façade.  

“No” he says eventually. “No, not if you have any luck”.  

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #mob!tom holland

[pacifistofpatience]

this may be the most self indulgent thing I've ever asked, but what sort of weddings would each of the skeletons want?

((ANON TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE MONSTER YOU CREATED!!)

Elop-ish—Papyrus, Red, Rus, Pappy

Quite one/family and friends thing—Sky,Sans, Boss, Jupiter, Mars

Big Party!!—Black

And on top of that:

Mix and match- Jupiter, Sky, Pappy, Mars, Boss

More monster centered- Black, Rus, Sans

More human centered- Red, Papyrus

AND ANOTHER (This is more of an afterthought):

More likely to be running around talking with others (Within Reason! Of course!): Mars, Sky

Stays by your side the entire time: Black, Sans, Pappy, Red

Follows you around: Rus, Jupiter

Drags you with him: Boss, Papyrus

Below the cut is a very long post along with outfits depending on weather you’re a dress or suit wearing Human

Undertale

Is Papyrus gonna be there? Awesome. Oh shoot wait how about Tori? She’d love it. Well if we’re gonna invite them then we gotta invite Undyin and Alphys and… Sans started out thinking it would be a quiet little thing until he remembered that he actually… has a good amount of friends that would be pretty sad (Or hell bent on beating him up) if they didn’t get invited to the wedding. A lot of the planning going to be left up to his S/O with his little additions here and there that… don’t quite make it an actual wedding but somehow make it feel like the best day of their lives. Honestly, during the entire planning session you’d think he didn’t doanything, but then he comes out actually looking nice for once in his life and (if they’re doing them) with his own, tear inducing, vows that it hits his S/O just how much they love him.

Songs you could dance to: Can’t help Falling In love with you – Elvis/ Fast Car - tracy chapman

 Impulsive to a fault Papyrus falls hard and fast. It’s not that his emotions are any less genuine because of how quickly he moves, it’s just that sometimes he needs to take a step back and think of what his S/O wants before he jumps on the old marriage wagon. If he had it his way, the two of them would be married five months in and already living that blissful married life. But, given the chance to plan out the wedding, Papyrus would love to experience a human marriage first hand! He’s been to plenty of monster ones! And knows the steps well enough that you two can have your own one at a later date!

Songs you could dance to: Lucky - Jason Mraz / Earth, Wind & Fire - September

 Underswap: 

Sky has the wedding planned out long before he proposes. He’s probably been dropping little hints here and there, asking what colors his S/O would love to have for a party. Would they prefer an indoor or outdoor one? At some point they’re going to think he’s planning a surprise party for them… or… something? His S/O will be unsure of what it is until he’s finally popping the question! And then it’s a whirlwind of planning and sending out invitations as both of them rush to get married (Which is part of the reason why he had it planned out so far in advanced!) Thankfully! Sky is very much flexible and willing to work with his S/O to make this the perfect wedding! And, while you guys are at it, how about you pick and choose some of the fun monster and humans’ bits!

Songs you could dance to: I’m Yours – Jason Mraz/ Ed Sheeran - Photograph

 Pappys a sweetheart, and he loves his S/O dearly…but…maybe they could do something with less people? Maybe even something with no people. Pappy is not good with the whole ‘get married in front of a crowd of people judging him’ and, stars, if he’s going to pour his (nonexistent) heart and (very much anxious) soul out to his S/O he’s going to need the peace. More than anything he’d rather jump into the heat of the moment and marry you in some far off place somewhere with a nice view (both outside and right next to him) and just… somewhere he can just outright tell his S/O how much they really mean to him. Of course, he knows that it’s a lot to ask of someone, so he’s willing to work around his insecurities in order to make it the perfect day for the both of them. Or, if yhis S/O is willing, he’d be happy to do the whole party marriage thing and than on their honeymoon have a small, Two person affair.

Songs you could dance to: Iris – Goo Goo Dolls/ Marry Me- Train/ Poet – Bastille

 Underfell: 

The moment Red decides that his S/O is the one is the moment he knows he’s jumping all in. And that means he needs to act now, before he chickens out (like he did the last three, four, five times) He didn’t mean for it to happen like it does, but you two are probably on vacation or something and he spots a ceremony happening and just, suggests it offhand (in that totally not joking tone) and the second his S/O seems down with it is the second he’s yanking them along and thinking that as long as he can get the ring on quick enough there’s no way they can call takeies backies. (one thing he would be adamant about though is having a Elvis impersonator there, he doesn’t care what for he just needs)

Songs you could dance to: Honeybee – Steam Powered Giraffe/ Safe and Sound - civil wars/ Take Me To church – Hozier/

 Boss Is actually… Pretty quiet about the whole affair. After he asks he spends almost all his time quietly planning everything out as soon as he possibly can, its not nerves that have him, but theres a buzzing, giddy, energy thrumming in him that if he doesn’t use for something he’ll probably end up bursting! That goes all the way up until the big day, where he’s there and his just sees his S/O and crashes, Error 404 Boss not working. Its like the wave of what he now knows was anxiety just dispersed the moment he saw them there, real and solid and undoubtedly his (Because sometimes he was worried that at any moment they could change their mind, any second they could see him as he sees himself and just… just leave… and stars he cant deal with that)  But then his S/O is there, and getting married and spending the rest of their life with him because his S/O loves him and… And he’s so in love! During the end of the night there’s going to be that one big kiss where he ends up sweeping his S/O off their feet and just… never puts them down. Then for the rest of the party he’s just there holding them in his arms shoving them in everyone’s face because “LOOK! LOOK! THIS IS MY BEAUTIFUL AND STUNNING WIFE/HUSBANDS/PARTNER AND THEYRE MINE!”

Songs you could dance to: I’ll Be - Edwin McCain/ Shallows – lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper

 Swapfell: 

For Black, it’s less of a party and more of a “invite everyone I can so that they know this amazing and stunning person officially MINE’ thing. He’s going to invite every monster, he’s going to get your family there, and, if you don’t stop him, hell invite all your Exs too just to rub it in their noses that he’s the one you  choose to spend the rest of your life with! Which may also make it more of a monster-oriented wedding, where you both have a collar to give to the other instead of the traditional wedding rings. A good amount of the wedding is him putting of a calm of easy front when hes pratcally just brimming with energy underneath, because their his, because he loves them so gosh darn much, because their wearing his collar and the restrain he’s using not to jump them right there is killing him.

Songs you could dance to: Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley/ I See the Light – Rapunzel ,

 Rus  doesn’t mean for the marriage to be sudden. Heck he probably would love to have something big and smoopy where he can proclaim to everyone just how much he loves his S/O, but the impulsiveness kicks in and… well Black had always been most of his self-restraint. His S/Os going to have to rein him in so that they can have a proper wedding like he wants! And Rus likes a little familiarity, so he’d prefer a monster wedding to a human one, especially because he desperately wants to see his S/O in the collar he picked out for them! (And stars he’s getting weak thinking about the collar they have for him as well!)

Songs you could dance to: Perfect – Ed Sheeren/ Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett

 Horrortale: 

Jupiter, ever the sweetheart, would probably have something for just the two of you if he could (Or, like, a lazy movie night that ended with you guys saying your vows and that’s it) but after a little while on the surface he started to come out of his shell again… and gained a few friends (Both old and New) that would be really sad if he just came back on day announcing he’s was married to one of the greatest S/O’s in the world without them knowing! So! With the help of the greatest little bro in the world! You guys set up a nice little backyard wedding (Or anywhere in an opened field) where you guys can celebrate however you want to!

Songs you could dance to: Thinking Out Loud – Ed Sheeren/ Blackbird – The Beatles  

With Mars you never have to worry about planning! He’s going to be the one making calls and setting up dates and sending out invitations all on his own! And sure maybe he’ll burn himself out a little but he’s riding high enough that he cant tell! Just to make sure he doesn’t wear himself out  his S/O will have to sneak their way into his very tight planning regime to make sure, and the best way to do that is to just… give their opinion. The second Mars hears his S/O’s input he’s already making room for them to help! And, while Mars is very much a practical monster, wouldn’t it be nice to have a… sort of fairy tale wedding? It doesn’t have to be all out there but… he would love to have something sort of… Mystical about it! Because, by the stars, does he feel like a miracle happened when his S/O agreed to marry him!

Songs you could dance to: Bubbly - Colbie Caillat/ You Are in love -Taylor Swift / Laughter Lines – Bastille

#Undertale #Underswap #Underfell #Swapfell #horrortale #Sans #Papyrus #US!Sans #US!Papyrus #UF!Sans #SF!Sans #SF!Papyrus #HT!Sans #HT!Papyrus #Marriage #weddings #yes i know some of the songs have sad lyrics #but listen #gud tunes #gosh im sorry this went way out there #like theres a lot more info then i intended #and if i didnt post it now id keep doing #i needed to stop myself #Anonymous

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 27: carrots, rusty bikes, and troublesome ghosts

Saturday, November 10th, 1990

“What does the coleslaw come with?”

“I’m sorry?” I look up from the order pad I’m scribbling on, not having quite registered the guy’s question the first time.

“The coleslaw, what does it come with?”

“Oh, uhm, it’s a side, so you can get it with any entree you want, really…”

“So can I just order coleslaw?”

“Well, I don’t think we sell it separately, I think it comes on the side of whatever you order.”

“Okay, how much for just a side of coleslaw then?”

This is it. I’ve died. I’ve died and gone to hell where my punishment for being a horrible human being is to be stuck in a permanently looping, restaurant-themed version of “Who’s on First.” Welcome back to work, Cora. With tremendous effort, I try again in my most patient customer-service voice.

“I don’t think I can get you just a side of coleslaw. Can I get you something else? Maybe something that comes with coleslaw?”

“I really don’t want anything else. I just want coleslaw.”

“Okay… but sir, it’s really the smallest possible portion, it’s just a little metal cup with three bites’ worth of salad.” I hold up my hands and make a circle shape with my fingers about the size of a half dollar coin, trying to impress upon this nitwit the concept of a fucking side of coleslaw.

“Fine,” he sighs, and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to stab one of my own eyes out with my pencil, “can I get it on the side of some fries?”

Fries. Are. Also. A. Side. Someone please kill me. You know what? Fuck it. Fine. I surrender and jot down “kill me now” on my notepad next to a sketch of a little dagger dripping blood.

“Wait, what’s actually in the coleslaw?”

As tempted as I am to do my best Charlton Heston Soylent Green impersonation to run this asshole out of my restaurant, I draw a deep breath and begin a faithful recitation of the ingredients in the most common side dish in America. “Cabbage, carrots, mayo…”

“Oh, I don’t like carrots.”

“So… you don’t want the coleslaw?”

“No, I do, I just don’t want the carrots.”

“Okay, but… it’s just that… we buy the coleslaw as a mix, sir. The carrots are just part of it.”

“If it’s such a small scoop, then it shouldn’t be that hard to take them out, right?”

My anger flashes, but then a different voice, more nasal than this guy’s but much more pleasing, floods my brain.

“You wear your feelings right… here.”

The memory is so immediate, I can even feel the weight of Stone’s hand perched on my shoulder, and for a split second I even glance to my left to see if I can spot his fingers there.

Of course they’re not there. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I haven’t seen or heard from Stone since he literally ran out of my apartment. Not even a phone call, and it’s been four days. There’s only one logical conclusion to draw. I crossed a line when I kissed him, and he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. He must have spent that whole day at my place because Lucy asked him to. And probably because he felt sorry for me, too. That’s all. Nothing more.

But I had to go and kiss him, uninvited, like a jerk. And that’s not even the first time! When I think back to that night we spent at his place, back to that moment in the tree, when I was so sure I understood his feelings: who kissed who? Me. I started it. I was the one who attacked him, not the other way around. He was the one trying to slow everything down.

“Oh yeah, that’s why you came over here and threw yourself at me last night, the overwhelming happiness of it all.”

Again Stone’s old words resound in my ears, only this time they aren’t the tender ones from my bed the other day but the harsh, mocking ones after we woke up together in his. It couldn’t be plainer that I’ve been misreading his feelings all along. Maybe he really did suffer some temporary insanity that night, and he thought he had feelings for me, but it was only because he got carried away, and now that he sees what a fucking trainwreck I am, he regrets all of it.

Or maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he actually did want me, maybe his affection did come from a genuine place after all, but who can blame him for losing interest in someone who’s stupid enough to be cheated on for an entire year? I’m like the textbook definition of damaged goods, so it’s only natural that his feelings have changed.

“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you can do to make me not want you.”

Damn these stupid hallucinations. My pulse quickens as my body remembers his touch under the hemlock tree in perfect detail. I believe he did really want me, for a while. But we’re not there anymore. We’re here. Wherever here is. So much has happened since that night. And I obviously figured out how to drive him away after all. He doesn’t feel the same way anymore. I can’t blame him for that. The shittiest part is that I feel like I owe him an apology, an explanation, a promise that I’ll stop throwing myself at him, except that even calling him to tell him that much feels like overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t want to talk to me. Message received loud and clear. I can take a hint. I just hope I haven’t ruined our friendship entirely. I don’t think I could take losing Stone on top of everything else.

“Miss? Hello, earth to Carrots over here?”

On the bright side, my misery over my situation with Stone is enough to shake off the murderous rage I was just feeling toward Coleslaw Guy. I can always spit in the guy’s salad, anyway. Maybe there’s a slight chance I’m still contagious. Always a silver lining somewhere.

“Of course, sir. I’ll be back with your order soon.”

Turning my back to his table, I make eye contact with Emily over at the bar, who has evidently been watching the entire exchange with Coleslaw Guy for her evening entertainment.

“Welcome back, Cora, we saved the best tables for you.”

“I’m ever so grateful! How will I ever, ever repay you?” I fawn, laying my accent on thicker. “Oh, I know. You win the grand prize, you get to help me pick the carrots out of that guy’s coleslaw with tweezers.”

“What??”

“He asked me to uncarrot his coleslaw. You can’t make this shit up.”

“And you actually agreed to do it?”

“I’m broke, Em, I’ll humiliate myself a real whole lot for a decent tip.”

“Well don’t look now, ‘cause your favorite riff raff are descending. Worst tippers I’ve ever seen, but at least they’re cute about it.”

She nods over my shoulder, and I turn around to figure out what she means. My stomach lurches when I spot a familiar group of idiots gathered on the sidewalk, waving enthusiastically through the window like a bunch of well-wishers on a dock seeing off a cruise ship. Jeff’s grinning cross-eyed, Lucy’s practicing her Queen of England wave, and Chris and Matt blow sloppy kisses from behind them. But that’s nothing compared to Mike, who pulls up his shirt to press his nipple against the glass in a display of wanton desire, causing the customers closest to the window to scoot their chairs back several inches in alarm.

“Oh god, no…” Emily shields her eyes, blushing scarlet to the roots of her hair and bustling out of sight, which is almost enough to sidetrack me from noticing that Stone’s the only one who’s not clowning around. And now he’s the only one I can see. Standing off to the side, one arm cradling a 12-pack of beer and the other hand shoved deep in the pocket of his brown coat, looking anywhere but at our friends or through the window at me. Looking annoyed, more than anything else. Looking like he’d like to be anywhere but here. Whoever’s idea it was to drop by and assault the window of my cafe, it certainly wasn’t his. What happened to all the oxygen in this place? Why can’t I breathe?

Stone disappears out of sight down the sidewalk, and the rest of the guys, having gotten the reaction they wanted, follow after him. Lucy waves at them before ducking inside, much to the apprehension of the customers who were closest to Mike’s nipple.

“I swear I’ve never seen those people before in my life,” she reassures them with a sunny smile as she makes her way over to me.

“To what did I owe that eye-gouging spectacle?”

“They were just glad to see you back at work, I think they miss monopolizing your section.” Lucy parks on a barstool and pockets the stolen cookie wrapped in a napkin that I’ve just handed her with as much stealth as a thief in broad daylight can manage.

“Not enough to stop by for dinner though, huh?”

“Nah, they’re gonna go practice. They’ve got that show in a few days, and I think they’ve done fuck-all so far to prepare for it.”

“Ah, right, I forgot all about that.”

Liar. Their show at the Off Ramp on Tuesday has been on my mind all week. I’ve been trying to decide whether I should go or not. I’m not even going to bother asking Lucy, because I know what she’ll say if I tell her I’m considering skipping it.

“But I think they were gonna swing by for dinner later,” she goes on. “How late are you working?”

Oh, sure they will. And then Stone will skip off to that root canal he’s been looking forward to. I start reorganizing coffee mugs to give myself something more productive to do.

“Oh, uh, my shift’s almost done.”

“Great! Then you can come by the gallery when you get off?”

“I should really catch up on schoolwork, Luce, I have a paper to present on Monday, and…” somehow reorganizing the mugs has become a game to see how high I can stack them before they fall, and now Lucy and I are both staring at my handiwork.

“At least pretend to humor the idea before you shoot it down, will you?”

“I’m not shooting anything down,” there’s been more than enough shooting down happening in my life lately for my tastes, “I just have a lot to do.”

My friend lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t suppose this is another one of those ‘avoiding Stone’ attempts you’re always so successful at?”

“What? No.”

“Hey, you don’t get to act surprised. I’m on solid ground here! You’ve got priors!”

The mug on the top of my impressive tower slips off, and Lucy makes a remarkable save while I stabilize the rest of my construction.

“I should probably put these back,” I mutter, hoping for a change of subject as I return the mugs to their proper arrangement.

“I knew it, you’re avoiding him. What did he do now?” she frowns. “Did he do something stupid that day he came over?”

Him? No. He did nothing wrong. Me, on the other hand… stupid slut who throws herself at anyone who shows her the slightest hint of affection…

“What? Of course not. He was great.”

“Uh huh. So then you’re avoiding him because…?”

“I’m not avoiding him!”

“Come on, Cora, cut the shit, yes you are.”

“It’s not like he’s called me either, you know. It’s just been kinda quiet for a few days, don’t make a big thing about it.”

“Wait, he hasn’t called you either?” she wrinkles her whole face in confusion. Me too, friend! That’s what I’ve been saying! I’m not avoiding him! He’s avoiding me! I’m just following his lead and trying not to make him any more uncomfortable around me than he already is! Oh no, what if she thinks she needs to meddle and try to push us closer together? Is that why she called him to come over and help me pack in the first place? No, no, I need to nip this suspicion in the bud before she makes everything worse.

“No, but it’s not a big deal, really. Maybe I can stop by practice for a couple of minutes. We’ll see how I feel when I get done here, I’m pretty tired.”

“Yes!” She fist-pumps in triumph. “Admit it, woman, you need socialization. This hermit thing is not a good look for you. Now that I’m on a roll, what about movie night tomorrow?”

“Lucyyyy,” I whine, slumping my shoulders for maximum pathos.

“None of the guys, just us. Pleeeeaase?” Her wheedling drowns out my whining until I cave, not wanting to make a scene.

“Ugh. Fine. One movie, I pick.”

Lucy jumps off her barstool, bouncing excitedly on her heels. “Two movies, and I get the final say.“

“What the –”

“She who wields the Blockbuster card controls the choices!”

“Tyrant! Okay, fine, at whose apartment am I serving this sentence?”

“You always have better snacks at your place,” she shrugs, breaking off a piece of the contraband cookie in her coat pocket and glancing sideways before stuffing it in her mouth, looking about as sneaky as a chipmunk storing up for winter.

“Fair point. Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea, you can pick up Jeff’s pan while you’re there.”

“Whmphch pn??” she garbles through her massive mouthful of cookie.

“Oh, uh, Eddie borrowed one. He brought over some food the other day.”

“When was that?”

“Wednesday, I think?”

“I didn’t hear about that!”

“It didn’t exactly warrant an announcement in the papers. He knew I was sick, he brought dinner over, we ate it, he left.” I shrug.

“That’s really sweet of him. What did you guys talk about?” She frowns before demolishing the rest of her treat. Why is she so interested in Eddie coming over to hang out? It’s not a big deal.

“We didn’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘we didn’t’?”

“I mean, it’s Eddie, he’s sorta the silent type.”

“Hmph,” she mutters, tossing the crumpled up napkin at my head and forming an exaggerated pout. “You don’t tell me anything anymore, you know that? I’ll see you in a little bit!”

As I watch her leave, I feel a twinge of remorse for keeping her at arm’s length lately. It’s not like I don’t want to spend time with my best friend, but it’s in her nature to want to talk about absolutely everything in excruciating detail, and what’s there to say? I was dumb enough to get strung along by Alex for an entire year, I’ve completely screwed up my entire friendship with Stone, and I don’t even understand what’s so newsworthy about a silent dinner with my neighbor.

Suddenly, tweezing carrots out of coleslaw sounds like a more manageable task than understanding my own social life.

***

“FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!”

Mike’s outburst drowns out the dissonant sound of everyone cutting their own playing short. I share a quick glance with Chris, who looks amused more than anything as he takes the interruption to justify a beer break. Jeff’s scowling at his bass, and Matt’s got the patient expression of a saint as he rests his sticks on his snare to watch the guitarist jumping up and down.

“Mike… mellow, man, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, totally fine that our lead guitarist can’t count to seven,” I roll my eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Stone, it’s your fault, it’s your stupid time signature. 99% of the world couldn’t figure this thing the fuck out.”

“Yeah, too bad you’re not in that other 4%, huh?”

Mike opens his mouth to retort, but he almost looks closer to tears than actual coherence, so it’s probably not a terrible thing that Matt speaks up before I do.

“Alright, it’s no big deal, let’s just try it again…”

“Yeah,” I offer in a slightly less snide tone, “let’s just go through the chord chart one more time…”

But at some muttered jumble of words out of the side of Mike’s mouth that sound distinctly like “shove it up your ass,” I decide to let Matt field this remedial music lesson and grab a drink with Chris.

As practices go, this is about as un-stressful as it ever gets, provided Cready can wrap his head around this particular song in the next couple days. I’m pretty attached to it, so I hope we can pull it off live, but in his defense, we have practiced precisely zero times so far, and it’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever asked him to play.

“He’ll get it,” Chris muses, watching Matt and Jeff take Mike through the pattern for the nth time.

“And if not, big fucking deal, it’s gonna be fun no matter what.”

“Should be,” he turns to me with his face split in a wide grin. “Are the girls gonna show up?”

“To the show, or here?” I concentrate my attention on the label of my beer can as though it’s the most fascinating design I’ve ever seen. Anything to avoid this conversation.

He shrugs. “Either. Both.”

“Beats me.” I really wish I knew, but hassling Cora about the show, or even stopping by Cyclops to try and get her attention, feels all wrong lately. She doesn’t need me breathing down her neck right now… Jesus, no harm in thinking about other scenarios that involve breathing down her neck, though, right?

“Huh. What gives? You guys still not done being idiots yet?”

“They’re always idiots,” Mike yells over his shoulder as he fucks up the riff yet again.

“Idiots who can count to seven,” I snarl, before lowering my voice so only Chris can hear. “Anyway, she’s kinda laying low lately, so I’d be surprised if she shows up, either here or Tuesday.”

“Laying low? How come?”

Oh, fuck, I keep forgetting that not everybody knows. Should I tell him? It’s really not my story to tell, and she’s so private about everything, she might murder me if she knew I told anyone.

“She still sick?” Chris presses.

“Nah,” Jeff corrects, “fuckin’ Alex had a girl on the side for like the last year, she just found out about it the other day. Walked in on them, I think.”

So much for giving Cora her privacy, although I guess that was too much to hope for with this crowd. At least I didn’t have to be the one blabbing about it, though. Thanks, Ames. Maybe if I just sit here and pound this beer, the conversation will move on soon?

“Shit…” Chris mumbles, looking slowly between Jeff and me.

“Yeah. I mean good riddance, always hated the guy and I’m fuckin’ glad he’s not my neighbor anymore, but I think Cora’s still in pretty bad shape.”

“But that means she’s single now, right?” Mike calls.

“Hey, look who finally learned math,” I kick myself for chiming back in, but Mike’s just such an easy target.

“So if she’s single, what are you waiting around for?” he goes on, and just like that, all eyes are back on me. Shit, I should have kept my mouth shut. “The two of you need to figure your thing out and just fuck already, the puppy eyes routine is getting old.”

“‘Just fuck already,’” I repeat bitterly, “Jeeesus. Does Dear Abby know about you?”

“He’s got a point,” Jeff piles on, while Chris’s eyes continue to bounce back and forth like he’s watching a ping pong tournament. “You guys just need to work it out.”

“Look, she just broke up with the guy! You think I want to be her rebound?”

If I’m being I’m honest, I don’t give a fuck what we call it. I’ll gladly be her rebound. I can handle it. I can work with that. I think even being her rebound sounds a whole lot healthier than where we’ve been, or what she’s had to deal with from Alex. And I definitely don’t need Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber here to give me relationship advice or tell me what I want. But that’s the whole fucking point, it’s not just about what I want, I’m trying to give her the space she needs. She gets that, right? Why doesn’t anybody else?

“Kinda stupid to worry about being her rebound if you’re already together, dude.”

“We are not together!”

“You’re not not together, though,” Mike butts in.

“Oh, excellent, the relationship guru speaks again. How about this, if I wanna be used for a bunch of meaningless sex with a girl who won’t even give me her phone number, you’ll be the first one I run to for advice.”

“You say that like it’s bad,” Mike shrugs.

“Alright Dr. Ruth, can you count to seven yet or what?”

To my relief, everyone seems willing to drop the topic and get back to playing, at least for a little while. But I’m the one who botches a chord when Lucy jogs down the stairs and takes a seat on the beat-up couch, because I’m too busy keeping an eye out on the stairwell for Cora to concentrate properly on playing. But soon, we’ve practiced as much as any of us feel we need to for today, and we’re packing up to leave, and Cora still hasn’t shown up. Not that I had any good reason to expect her to be here. It’s not like I specifically asked her to come. I’m starting to feel pretty shitty about that. It was lazy of me to assume that she’d show up just because Lucy planned to. I probably should have called her and asked her. I should definitely tell her I want her to be at our show. Maybe I’ve taken this “giving her space” thing a little too far. It’s been almost a week since we’ve seen or talked to each other, and we didn’t exactly part on the most crystal clear of terms. I’ve spent most of the intervening time replaying that kiss, thinking about what I should have done differently, what I should have told her instead of just leaving…

But she understands, right? We’ve been honest with each other. I feel secure about that much, at least. She knows how I feel about her. There’s no point in beating a dead horse. It was definitely the right decision not to let things get out of hand so soon after her breakup. And whatever these assholes say, it’s definitely still too soon. I’d feel like a total jerk just dropping by her work, or her place, and pushing her into anything she’s not ready for. When she’s ready to talk about it again, I’ll be here.

“Stone? You gonna take up residence down there or what?” Lucy calls.

Jesus, when did everyone leave? I grab my bag and follow them up the stairs and out onto the street. Mike and Chris have already disappeared, and Jeff’s kneeling down on the ground, occupied in an argument with his ancient bike lock, which is remaining stubbornly locked despite his best caveman efforts to jerk it open. Lucy’s standing a few paces away from him, and I spot my opportunity.

“So, uh, Cora had work, I take it?” I ask under my breath, walking backwards a few steps in the hope she’ll follow.

Lucy’s too focused on inexplicably picking crumbs out of her jacket pocket to look at me right away, but she gets the hint and trails after me so we can keep our voices down and be drowned out by Jeff’s grumbling. “Think so. I mean, her shift’s probably already done, but she wanted to catch up on school stuff.” Her gaze bounces up, having cleared the offending debris. “Have you talked to her lately?”

“You did tell me to leave her alone, as I recall.”

“I told you no such thing. I told you to keep it in your pants –”

“– check –”

“– not completely disappear. And ew, Stone, I don’t literally want an update about your pants parts.”

“I haven’t disappeared, I just wanted to give her a little space.”

Her face rearranges into that same menacing squint from the stairwell. “Not calling her for a week’s kind of extreme, don’t you think?”

Shit… maybe I did take this too far. “Did she tell you that?”

But before Lucy can respond, Jeff straightens up in the background and finally frees his bike.

“Got it! It’s that hunk of rust in the bike rack, it’s been there for like two years and it’s fucking impossible to work around.”

He kicks at a long-abandoned object barely recognizable as a bicycle, covered in grime and rust, leaning pathetically against the frame of the rack. I wave goodbye to the two of them as they head in the direction of their building, my attention now caught up in the rusty bike. I give it a good shake, and apart from needing essentially every part replaced, the frame itself seems to be intact. About the right size, too. It’s perfect. I try to pull it free myself, but the bike lock restraining it is still in decent enough shape to put up a fight. This is going to take more imagination.

***

Sunday, November 11th, 1990

“A Swayze double feature and you didn’t even get Road House? What kind of bullshit is that?”

Cora rummages through the video store bag on her kitchen counter, pouting at the movies I chose.

“Call me crazy, I’m just not in a throat-rippy-outty mood.”

“First time for everything,” she smirks, tearing into an enormous bag of red licorice, “but at least you got the right junk food.”

“Come on, not even you can argue with Dirty Dancing. And I couldn’t get any of you fuckers to see Ghost with me in theaters, so here’s your payback.”

“Christ. I’m gonna need something stronger than these to get through all this romance shit,” she chuckles around a Twizzler. “It’s official… we need brownies.”

“Only if you make them. You know I can’t bake to save my life.”

“What’s the old saying? Give a woman a brownie, feed her for a day…” she says, her back to me as she starts pulling baking supplies out of an upper cabinet.

“And at least she’ll have one glorious brownie and no food poisoning from trying to attempt the recipe herself?”

“You underestimate my teaching abilities. Just make your own batch and do as I say.” She gives a banged-up metal baking pan a blind toss over her shoulder, and I just barely manage to catch it. “Here, you make your batch in that one so you can take it back to Jeff’s when you go.”

I know that if I try to pry more information out of her about Eddie coming over for dinner, she’s just going to clam up, so as much as I’m dying to know what happened, I keep the questions to myself. What did they talk about for an entire evening? Since when do the two of them just hang out by themselves? Have I missed something between them, or is this a new development? Does Eddie know about her whole… situation with Stone? Wait a minute, I’m jumping the gun, does any of it even matter? Maybe they’re just two lonely, recently dumped people keeping each other company and it’s completely harmless, like she says. Yeah, right, sure, what could possibly go wrong with that?

“Speaking of Jeff, I feel like a shitty friend,” she goes on, pulling cocoa and sugar and who knows what other kind of baking potions out of the cabinet, “how’s stuff going there?”

Whoops. I guess I can’t complain about Cora not telling me anything lately, can I? I haven’t exactly opened up to her about my latest worries.

“It’s fine…” I stall, pretending to read the index card she’s just pulled out of nowhere with the brownie recipe on it, like it’s going to do me any good at all.

“‘Fine?’ No way. Shot first, then spill.”

She plunks a plastic bottle of tequila down in front of me and slides a shot glass over. I guess I earned that.

“Euggghh,” I fight my gag reflex after downing the garbage tequila, “are you sure that’s not nail polish remover? Anyway, everything’s really fine, there’s nothing wrong, it’s just…”

“Say fine again and you take another shot.”

“Alright! I swear, it’s not bad, he just…”

“Lucyyy? What did he do? Do I need to kill him?”

“No! God, no, he just asked me to move in with him.”

She clutches her heart and staggers backward. “Oh, the horror! What did you say to such a depraved request?”

“I told him I needed to think about it.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Uhm… last week? Same day as the whole… thing… here.” I wave my hand around the apartment, still not sure if we’re at the point in her mourning process where I can mention Alex by name or if I should keep pretending he never existed. So far she hasn’t brought him up, so I’ve been taking cues from her.

“And you haven’t talked about it since then? Jesus, you’re an ice queen. Poor guy.”

“Oh, it’s even weirder than that, he seems to think we talked about it once before, but I can’t even remember. I’m the world’s worst girlfriend.”

“Here, see this list of dry stuff? Measure, then mix.” She hands me a whisk and a big bowl, and I try to imitate what she’s doing with her own batch but I can’t help getting flour everywhere and have to pause for another shot just to get my bearings. Cora follows suit. “You’re definitely not the world’s worst girlfriend, I think that title belongs… elsewhere. But he probably deserves an answer soon, don’t you think?”

“I just…”

“SUGAR!”

“What?” Her shout makes me spill even more of the white substance I’m doing a sloppy job of measuring.

“One and a quarter cups sugar, Lucy, you’re pouring out salt!”

“Oh, for the love of…”

Cora bursts out laughing and produces a funnel with which to pour my mountain of salt back into the canister. “You were saying?”

“I don’t know, things are just really good right now, and I don’t see any reason to change them. I really like having my own place.”

My chest feels instantly lighter, having expressed the worry to the one person who probably won’t judge me for feeling it. It’s got nothing to do with Jeff. Jeff’s amazing. So amazing that I’m constantly wondering when something’s going to go terribly wrong and screw up our entire relationship, because I have no previous evidence to suggest that relationships ever last this long without something getting screwed up. Cora thinks for a long moment before handing me the jar of actual sugar.

“Sure, that makes perfect sense. I kind of envy you, honestly, having your own apartment and being able to keep just that little bit of distance. I never really figured that out. If that’s what you need, that doesn’t make you the world’s worst girlfriend.”

“Not talking to him about it kinda does, though.”

“Maybe a little. What’s his plan, though? Does he want you to move into his place or does he want to move downstairs?”

“We haven’t talked about it, I have no clue.”

“Hey, watch what you’re doing, you’re getting eggshell in the batter… and what about Eddie?”

Eddie again, huh? Even apart from the very salient point she’s just raised about my situation, it’s weird that she thought of him before I did. She’s definitely got him on the brain…

“Ugh, shit, I have no idea. I can’t ask him to move out, that would be cruel. He doesn’t know anyone else here yet! And I bet he can’t afford a place of his own.”

“I didn’t say it was a reason not to, I was just wondering if you’d thought about it. And yeah, I don’t know how anyone our age manages not to have a roommate. You corporate fat-cat types with your fancy job things and your big bloated paychecks and your bejeweled monocles, you sicken me. I’m gonna have to start selling plasma soon if I don’t figure out a better way to afford this place by myself.”

“Maybe I should just move in with you, that would solve things.”

“Somewhat undercuts your argument about liking having the apartment all to yourself, though.”

“Ooh, logic, that definitely earns a shot. Maybe a double.”

We go several more rounds debating my boyfriend dilemma, and even though we don’t come up with an answer, it feels good to talk to her about it. I probably shouldn’t have waited so long, but it felt selfish to bring it up with everything going on in her life. If it bothers her, though, she isn’t letting on. Soon the brownies are in the oven and Dirty Dancing is on the TV, and for a while neither of us have to think about guy troubles, at least, any guy troubles unrelated to Patrick Swayze’s hips.

“Fuck me, I always forget about that ‘I carried a watermelon’ thing,” Cora sputters as she gets up to check on the brownies. “Most relatable scene ever filmed.”

I cackle, spilling a little wine into my lap as I twist to shout after her, “how do they look?”

“Uh, you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Shit…”

“I mean the good news is, they look like they’re going to taste okay, no thanks to you. But I think I forgot to tell you to butter the pan first…” she holds the pan in question upside down and shakes it, freeing only a couple crumbs, and dissolving in a fit of snort laughter.

“Don’t blame me, I was just following orders!”

Cora returns with a second bottle of wine and her pan of brownies, which release from the pan much more obediently than the solid brick I baked, and we make short work of both the brownies and the wine. We’re just getting to the big finale dance scene when there’s an abrupt knock on the door that makes both of our drunk asses jump.

“DID YOU MAKE BROWNIES??”

Since it’s my dumbass boyfriend’s voice bellowing at the door, I’m the one who gets up to answer it, and sure enough, there’s Jeff, flanked by Eddie and Mike, with Stone hanging a ways back pretending to be interested in something down the hallway. They all look drunker than we do, which must have taken some effort.

“They DID!” Mike shouts, elbowing past me and making a beeline for Cora’s kitchen. Before either she or I can say anything, he’s attacking the solid mass of brownie in my pan with a fork, undeterred by the aesthetics. Cora’s watching him with a mix of amusement and horror, and I turn back to Jeff for answers.

“Are you guys drunk?”

“Who’sh drunk?” Mike retorts, confirming the answer.

“We, uh, stopped by Cyclops for a few rounds after practice –” Jeff explains.

“– and whose idea was that?” I ask as quietly as I can, watching Stone fidget in the background and Eddie looking like he’s trying to summon an interdimensional portal in the floor beneath his shoes, as usual.

“– but then we remembered you guys would be here doing your movie night thing, and the food’s free here, which is a vast improvement over Cyclops, so…”

I look back at Cora, who’s already getting up from the couch with a grin on her face, resigned to feeding the inebriated invaders. But then her face blanches as if she’s seen a ghost, and I realize she’s only just now noticed Stone. She hurries into the kitchen and sticks her face in the fridge.

“No Matt? Chris?” she calls.

“No, Matt ditched us after practice for a date, and Chris said he’d be by later, he wanted to make  a detour on the way,” Eddie says, slinking past me with a mumbled apology, followed by Stone.

“What part of girls’ night did you not understand?” I round on Jeff, but he’s looking so sheepish that it’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. I settle for a bite of his lip before I let him into the apartment.

***

“Sorry we crashed your movie night,” an unmistakable low rumble says behind me as I’m pulling a six pack out of the fridge.

“Are you kidding? Did you see her selections? I should be thanking you for the distraction.” I straighten up and see Eddie standing in my kitchen, shoulders hunched but barely containing a tight-lipped smile.

“How bad can it be?”

But the sound of Mike and Jeff singing along with Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes answers his question, and he gives a somber nod.

“As long as they don’t attempt the lift, we should be okay. Here, if you have lingering guilt about ruining our evening, your punishment is that you get to take your pan home and clean it, it’s a disaster.”

He takes the baking pan from me, inspecting the caked-on brownie mess left behind after Cready ravaged the edible contents. “Thanks, sorry, I didn’t mean to leave it here.”

Rather than responding, I watch him studying the pan for a moment. I wish I could figure out what to make of this guy. He’s always around at the worst possible moments. It’s a punchline at this point – if I have a horrible day, or if I’m doing my best to be left alone, I know to keep my eyes peeled for Eddie, because I’m bound to run into him. The weird thing is that I don’t even mind it as much anymore. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t expect anything of me, or maybe it’s that we have a weird amount of things in common and I don’t ever feel as though I have to explain myself to him, I don’t know. I’m just… I’m just really glad I met him when I did, and I have no idea how to tell him that without making him uncomfortable, especially since I’m starting to choke up, which is a completely horrifying development.

“Hey, Eddie, I –”

But before I can say anything else, my front door bursts open again, and this time it’s Chris, wearing a wicked smile and carrying large boxes under either arm.

“I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie and I trade winces and then head into the other room to figure out what kind of havoc he’s brought with him. The larger of the two boxes is a 24-pack of shitty beer, which is pretty much par for the course. It’s the label on the other box that I can’t quite… oh my god, he wouldn’t…

“Safety first, Smokey,” he sing-songs as he pushes a value-sized box of condoms against my chest, shoving harder and harder until I finally put my hands on it or risk being knocked over. “Welcome to the dating pool, you’re gonna hate it.”

“Already do,” I cringe, doing my best to ignore the wolf-whistles and applause from the couch behind me. “I’ll just… put these… somewhere…”

“Somewhere you can reach ‘em! Don’t listen to the Pope, you’re gonna need ‘em, it’s a jungle out there!” Chris calls after me as I chuck them into the darkness of my bedroom and close the door, hoping like hell that they’ll land somewhere inconspicuous and I won’t have to relive this mortification ever again. He’s wrong, I’m not gonna need them, they’ll expire before I ever crack open the box, it’s not like there’s a line of dudes beating down my door… I mean, apart from these idiots… and not for reasons that would require prophylactics… oh god, stop thinking about Stone… ugh, I hate my life…

The movie’s already starting by the time I re-join everyone in the living room. Chris is sprawled on the armchair, Mike’s co-opted all of the pillows from my window seat to make himself a nest on the floor, Eddie’s sitting primly in a dining room chair he dragged a few inches away from the table, Lucy’s sitting on Jeff’s lap on one end of the couch, and the only remaining seat, naturally, because that’s how this night is going, is between the two of them and Stone, who’s seated at the other end. He’s got one arm stretched out along the back of the couch and his eyes on the screen, and I’m debating whether I should risk sitting down next to him or find some excuse to avoid it, like washing dishes or lighting myself on fire, when his gaze flickers up to me. In a movement that’s almost a flinch, he folds at the elbow and starts fidgeting with his own ponytail, not entirely removing his arm from behind the only available seat, but at least freeing up a little space, so I take that as a sign that it’s okay for me to sit down. I can feel his obnoxious, beautiful, searching eyes on me as I do, and I do my best to shrink into the cushion, take up as little space as I can, breathe more quietly than normal, anything to avoid the reality that this is the closest together we’ve been since I kissed him. I fold my knees up underneath my chin, hoping he can’t tell that my heart’s racing. Why can’t I just be normal around him now?

“You got enough space?” he whispers. I nod, unwilling to look over at him even though I know he’s still staring at me. I wish he wouldn’t. I wish he didn’t look so at home on my sofa. I wish he wasn’t so cute in a baseball cap. I wish he didn’t smell so good. I wish I could stop cataloging his every distracting fidget with the label of his beer bottle or a piece of lint on the couch. For the first and probably last time ever, I wish I could just pay excruciatingly close attention to Ghost.

That last wish turns out to be a mistake when the main characters start fornicating over a pottery wheel to one of the most romantic songs of all time barely ten minutes into the film. Just fucking kill me, this scene goes on forever! Why won’t Stone move his fucking arm from behind the couch?! As if on cue, he leans over and gives a nervous chuckle in my ear.

“They’re really establishing the hell out of this sex scene, huh?”

I can’t bring myself to look at him again, so I just nod, hoping it’s too dark for him to see how red my face is.

“Wait, wait, their hands are clean now! When did they take the time to wash off all that clay?” Jeff shouts, as if he’s disagreeing with a ref’s call at a basketball game. “YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG, PATRICK!”

“Jesus, Demi Moore’s sculpting phallic pottery half naked, and you’re paying attention to their handwashing habits?” Stone cranes his neck to gawk at Jeff behind me. “You’re a lucky girl, Lucy.” I lean forward to dodge Jeff’s swipe, which hits its target with a satisfying smack.

Fortunately, the rest of the movie is significantly less embarrassing, and although I’d never admit it to Lucy, it’s not completely terrible. Nearly everyone else has fallen asleep by the time it’s over, with Stone and me seemingly the only ones who manage to stay awake despite the somniferous effect of all the booze and sugar. I don’t know what his excuse is, but I’m still feeling completely wired just from sitting next to him. God, this is why I was single all throughout high school, I can’t just be normal around a guy I have feelings for, I have to make everything awkward for myself. That, and I imbue every little interaction with too much meaning, I mean, he’s probably just watching the movie, there’s no way he’s sitting here analyzing my every movement out of the corner of his eye, the way I’ve been doing to him. At this age, I should know better than to let my expectations run away with me, right? I’m so stupid. This is what we are now, we’re just friends, I need to get that through my head.

And speaking of unrealistic expectations, when the whole group eventually wakes up and heads for the door, I find myself idiotically hoping Stone will circle back after saying goodnight just to say something privately to me, and of course it doesn’t happen. He leaves with everyone else, because what would he even have to say to me? It’s all in my head, anyway.

#behind the sun #chapter 27 #pearl jam #fanfiction #fanfic #eddie vedder #stone gossard #mike mccready #matt cameron #jeff ament #chris cornell

[askdacast]

Rant from an ex-fan: RWBY’s Volume 5 shorts are terrible

Quick warning: if you are a huge fan of RWBY, especially of the third volume onwards, I am going to be needlessly cruel towards the series in this post. Turn back if you don't wish to hear the ramblings of a jaded ex-fan.

So I used to love RWBY, or more specifically the first two volumes of RWBY. They were far from perfect, but I enjoyed what fun action and neat fantasy and tech ideas they had to offer.

Then Volume 3 came about, in its glut of sudden edginess and shocking twists, and I came down with a case of salt poisoning.

As you can imagine, I dropped the series harder than a slab of concrete and have been very hesitant to pick up the series again since. Then I saw in my YouTube Feed that Volume 5 of RWBY was coming out, and there were character shorts and teasers, one of which was of Weiss, being released as promotions. So I thought, "Fine, why not? I might as well see if they win me over once more."

I was not won over.

Problems that I had with the series when I dropped it were somehow encapsulated in 3.5 painfully long minutes, and after some mental testing out of my hair, I decided to do the following moment-by-moment analysis of the trailer below as follows.

Please keep in mind I have sworn entirely off Volume 4 and any details I do know about it are from my friend @randomnumbers751650 who HAS watched it. Nothing first-hand.

0:00 We begin with some abstract shots of totally-not-symbolism set to yet another generically sad Casey Williams song.

Okay look, I don’t want to hate on Casey Williams. She’s an amazing singer at the age she is, and she’s got great talent! I don’t hate her work at all. The problem is she’s in EVERYTHING RWBY RELATED. No, literally, everything. RoosterTeeth has shoved her into every single vocal song for the series and I’m getting tired of it. There’s no variety in any of the vocals unless they get Jeff Williams to do some screaming or Lamar Hall to do some okay-rapping in them. Even they seem to sound overused.

Not to mention sometimes I feel like they’re forcing Casey’s vocal chords to sing certain songs that really do not lend well to her vocals (*cough* When it Falls *cough). She’s a beautiful singer, but when you just churn out song after song with her, the songs lose their magic. I don’t even wanna get started on these lyrics, but let’s rant one thing at a time, shall we?

0:12 Hey look, the moon is still broken. We ever gonna find out what that means?

Now one compliment I guess I’ll give is that the art has definitely improved. The characters still move jankily (albeit more smoothly now), but the background art has really upgraded. The shot of the manor Weiss is fighting in, the ice fountain with the Schnee logo and the snowing effects in this are actually kinda pretty!

0:25 And now we meet best girl Weiss! Well, she originally wasn’t my best girl. It was first Ruby, but unfortunately she had no personality (despite being the main character). Then there was Penny, but she was.

You know.

Dead.

Thanks RoosterTeeth, I’m still not over that. You introduced a precious cinnamon roll and killed her off for shock value. And fan theories about her being rebuilt have not been acted on.

Uh-huh. Sure. I’m totally okay with that. Not bitter at all.

Anyway, just look at those expressions. Mouth movement still looks as awkward as ever. I think enough people have probably mocked the expressions in the Volume 4 opening so I won’t harp on it, but…yeeeeah.

0:36 Oh hey look ominous snow wind out of nowhere. That sure is whacky and wacky.

And listen closely to the lyrics of this super-duper-sad song.

“And in its place is nothing, just an endless empty hall.”

GEDDIT? BECAUSE WEISS IS LONELY! SHE’S SAD AND LONELY CUZ SHE’S GOT NO FRIENDS! WE’RE SO SUBTLE AND SYMBOLIC GUYS!

Jeff Williams, or…whoever did the lyrics for these songs, the instrumental is lovely on its own. You could’ve just let the emotions speak for themselves. You don’t have to HAMMER IN THE MESSAGE THAT WEISS IS OBVIOUSLY STILL SAD AND LONELY. I THOUGHT WE GOT THREE ENTIRE SONGS FOR THAT ALREADY. Or was Mirror Mirror just not subtle enough? >_>

0:45 Oh look. Ice Beowulves. How interesting and original.

And don’t tell me they’re a different species of Grimm or whatever, those models are clearly palette-swapped Beowulves! It’s like they’ve become the Goombas of Remnant or something.

You know last I checked, one of the bigger reasons people liked this show at all was because of the fantasy setting and how not just the heroes and their weapons, but the creatures of Grimm had all sorts of creative designs. I get that this is just a teaser trailer and the fight here doesn't have any actual plot bearing, but one on, you could've at least come up with something more interesting for an ice-based Grimm. Even better, give hints of new Grimm to be introduced later in the volume or something, I dunno! Just anything more than a freaking palette swap.

0:59 ...did...did Casey just say 'Weissolation?' I hope she didn't; that's a level of goofy I think not even RT would stoop to.

Also, still piling on that reaaaally subtle lyric-work about how lonely Weiss is! Ugh.

1:01 I dunno why but that shot of the Beowulf pouncing at her just looks so goofy. “COME AND GIVE ME A HUUUUUG!”

1:12 ...okay, I admit, the change in tempo and shift in instruments for this song and the ensuing fight made me excited.

If there's one thing Jeff Williams has always done well, it's his instrumental. I complain a lot about RWBY's vocals, but the way the songs mix hard rock and more classical music has always been amazing. It's the perfect blend of instruments to get you pumped up for a fight while still getting into the different moods and settings each fight takes place in. Even better is that they don't have to constantly rely on awkward dubstep or techno beats like most other shows nowadays do with their action scenes. All things considered, if you just changed the lyrics, I would totally replay this song in my free time.

Even this initial start of the fight isn't bad at all. The violins and Casey's vocals really match up to the angles, Weiss jumping on the glyphs, shots like the pan up to when she's standing on the ledge, and oh man, those melting icicles. That was such a neat touch!

1:31 That is an adorable Weiss happy face. Can we get more of that? Please? And not all the random depressing edgy plot points?

1:40 "Forced to conform" YES WE GET IT WEISS FEELS TRAPPED, MOVE ON CASEY

You remember how the original Mirror Mirror's lyrics were about Weiss' self-doubt and fear of what's inside her? Only 2012 remembers.

1:45 Once again, more of those awkward expressions. Her face is literally OAO in this moment. A second shot of it is passable. You hold it for longer than that though, not to mention in a close-up shot, and it just looks goofy.

This, however, is probably a good time to get to one of my major complaints of this trailer. Namely that this trailer could have been stuff like foreshadowing of plot points, a quick character insight into how Weiss has been doing since the end of the last Volume, a whole number of things. But instead, what do we get?

Fighting.

Just. Fighting.

Look I get it, RWBY is an action series, fighting is kind of what it's selling. But if you would humour me, let me take you back to 2012, when RWBY just became a thing and people were fawning over the awesome trailers. Let me remind you guys that the first two trailers shown, Ruby's and Weiss', were both consisting of nothing but -you guessed it- fighting. We didn't hear their voice actors at all, we didn't get a glimpse as to what their characters like beyond their small facial expressions and song lyrics (you know, like the incredibly deep revelation that WEISS IS LONELY), or their place in the plot.

As much as I loved the fighting choreography in those old trailers, when the show was finally released, the characters suffered for it. People were wondering why Ruby was a squeaky high-pitched now girl when she looked so stoic and badass in the trailer. People were wondering why Weiss was so snooty and insufferable when once again, the trailer painted a different picture of her. My point is the original trailers for RWBY tried pushing for its awesome action scenes at the expense of the writing of its characters.

And now it's happening again.

Let me be blunt: when I first saw this Weiss short, and after the initial few cool shots of fighting, my brained tuned out and I IMMEDIATELY skipped the whole fight scene. I knew what to expect – another flashy action scene that has no bearing on the plot or Weiss as a character or what's to come.

You know guys, most of us who are anime fans safely say that most of us who enjoy action scenes and stuff like shonen anime is NOT just because of random fighting. I need to care about what I'm watching. I need to know the fight I'm seeing matters. And failing THAT, I at least want to see something new; new fighting techniques, new ways of attacking and reversing your opponent's moves onto them, rather than just the same old.

I remember when I used to enjoy the fight scenes in RWBY. It was cool seeing the fighting techniques, the crazy weapons and having some vague idea of how Dust worked. It was all fine and dandy back then. But RWBY hasn't evolved since. As much as I like Weiss, her simple sword tactics have always struck me as rather plain compared to the rest of the team. Clearly, she's designed less as a combatant focusing on power and more as the 'Mage', what with her glyphs (which we still haven't gotten an explanation of how her Semblance works btw) and her Dust usage. I could've gone for something simple like Weiss combining Dust in her attacks or something like that.

But no.

RoosterTeeth is just doing the same old action sequences over and over again. It's to the point where the fight scenes are just white noise! Congrats, RoosterTeeth. You guys made me think of an action scene as WHITE NOISE.

Mind you, I actually went to rewatch the trailer to try to see what I missed in the fight scene just to be fair, but even then I tuned out again. Nevermind the actual choreography or some weird wide-angle shots, everything just felt so generic. I honestly can't muster up any energy to even critique the fight.

So enough of my whining I guess, let's just get back to the trailer shall we...

2:48 And somehow despite Weiss being best girl, she still continues to have the weakest of the voice actresses. The way she screams Winter's name sounds more like annoyance rather than the actual fear she might have been feeling.

Also WAIT WHAT?! THOSE WOLVES WERE WINTER'S CREATION?!

...so not satisfied with giving us a dull action scene, this trailer decides to pull the rug out under us and render our investment into Weiss surviving this fight pointless. Fantastic.

3:04 Oh hey, Winter! One of the few parts of Volume 3 I actually liked!

Great to see you and your Icy Cool Big Sis self again! Boy, it sure was a good thing you...weren't important in the last Volume...or the second half of Volume 3...oh man was your great character totally utilized and not squandered in the face of the changing plot or anything...

3:15 More stilted Weiss voice acting. The way she says "I'll get better" is just so oddly rushed and lifeless.

3:26 And so we end this trailer with a reprise of Mirror Mirror, showing how even after 4 whole Volumes, Weiss has not grown as a character despite her trials with her barely-visible team, and she's still left alone with the insecurities and loneliness plaguing her, sending her back to square one!

Yay. RWBY is such a well-written satisfying show.

3:36 But ZOMG! This whole trailer was a flashback! And Weiss is still sad remembering old sad times!

...

BULL.

What was even the point of having that entire fight be a flashback? Narrative-wise, it's a slap in the face to the hope of Weiss growing as a character. Didn't she spend the last part of Volume 4 singing an entire song about how she's going to forge her own path and break away from her family? But her face when she remembers this memory of her old self and replaying Mirror Mirror in the background seems to imply this isn't the case. That she's still stuck in the same mental chains she's been in since the show started. If there's no promise of her truly overcoming herself, why would this flashback have any meaningful bearing on her arc?

Technicality-wise, this only confuses the viewer and short-changes the animators. Believe it or not, I was actually confused as to if Weiss in the trailer was from present time; thought maybe she just put on her old clothes again or something. But it's not; we are just seeing her old self fighting some of Winter's illusions. If we aren't seeing any cool new stuff about Weiss, what is the point of making this a teaser for Volume 5?

So with all that said and done, RWBY has once more proved that it’s just going to be nothing more but a swirling pot of wasted potential and eye candy with some irresponsible writers mixing it all into one big mess, and it’s only going to get more incomprehensible from here on out.

Wonderful.

Let me clarify one last thing: I did NOT drop RWBY in Volume 3 because it was ‘too dark and depressing’. I like a good serious story myself. The purpose of this rant is to show you all my real problem with RWBY: it does not handle its writing with any care whatsoever, or the responsibility to deliver a satisfying product to its audience. Volume 3’s out of nowhere shift, as much as it angers me, I feel is symptomatic of every other writing problem in this series.

It’s lazy. It’s half-baked. It’s popcorn entertainment in the end, sure, but even popcorn needs to be cooked well. I want the tastiest popcorn ever, not some cold barely-microwaved corn kernels left out in the open!

Ugh, if you guys will excuse me, I’m gonna go write my own action-packed fantasy story. With blackjack and hookers.

#rwby #volume 5 #ragehate #rant #character #shorts #trailers #weiss schnee