#i let it in and it took everything... by loathe palette

[hey-color-palettes]

Hey can you make a color palette for Loathe’s “I Let It In And It Took Everything”?

292727 || #c6baac || #3d3038 || #5c6e7a || #424344

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

[corviisquire]

tysm Leon :D I’ve done this before but I can do it again!

Last Song: Shake It by Metro Station.

Last Album: Currents by Tame Impala and I Let It In and It Took Everything by Loathe!

Favorite Color: everything? I like palettes rather than specific colors

Sweet, spicy, or savory: All three.

Last TV Show: Dungeon Meshi. watching it cause friends are forcing me to and dark souls references.

Last Film: Alone on Netflix.

Last thing you googled: ... how to beat mysbegotten warrior and crucible knight redmane castle Elden ring...

Relationship status: single (my bsf is my gf /j)

Current Obsessions: Fromsoft games, sleep token.... I'm getting back into Locke & Key, tho! Rereading them rn as well as Ghost In The Shell!! Re-reading a lot of books.

Thank you for tagging me @dearscone!! 💖

last song/album:

Last song was Full Moon - The Black Ghosts

Last album I heard in full was Apricot Princess by Rex Orange County (I think. My beloved album)

favorite color:

BLACK 🖤🕷️🌚♣️🎱🏴🖤 ; but also I love pink and yellow 🌷🍋

sweet, spicy or savory:

Sweet!!! Love spicy, but I have a sweet tooth hehe. Give me all the sweet snacks pls 🍫🍪🍩🍭🍊🧋🥭🧁🍈🍮

last tv show:

I'm rewatching Community (yet again). It's leaving Netflix at the end of the month (RUDE) so I'm trying to cram as much as I can lmao

last film:

Spirited Away! 💙

last thing you googled:

At the time of writing this - guitar chords for Flume by Bon Iver

relationship status:

🙂✌️ (🛁🔌) take a wild guess

current obsession:

Aside from the obvious? Super into the LOTR vibe rn (hello Fellowship) ; obsessed with the cookies I made these past week omg still dreaming about them actual ; obsessed with my lovely amazing beautiful moots I love you guys 🥺💙 ; obsessed with NOT being sick actually 🙃🤧

Tagging random people, please spread these like wildfire babes (if you want!!) @hookedhobbies @eepymonstrr @undekaying @a-s-levynn @thejawsoffate @leonsleftbicep @channelsoph <- finally you can come and play 🥺 @missilesilo

[bestiesenpai]

Youtuber Sukuna pt3

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life! I never thought youtuber sukuna would be so popular, so thank you everyone for giving me encouragement to continue this lil series. This will be the final part, but who’s to say we can’t have an OVA episode?? I smell a beach episode...or maybe a trip to an onsen? Who knows!

Part one --- part two

This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It certainly felt like it. Scrolling on Pinterest was the last thing he wanted to do, in fact it was something he openly mocked in the past, but now per your advice, he was looking at thousands of photos of home decor.

Sukuna was hesitant to admit to you that he had no furniture in his home. After seeing how well decorated and lived in your home was, it only made his shame increase at being a grown man with foldable furniture. But you took it in stride and offered to help, even making him share a Pinterest board with you so the two of you could get inspiration for a shopping trip.

That’s how he found himself at IKEA on a bright and early Saturday morning. You’d begged him to let you come shopping with him, and Sukuna was a man unable to refuse any request you made of him.

“Ah, this is going to be so exciting!” You shouted, nearly running to the carts at the front of the store. You were clearly more excited than he was, your energy seemed to know no bounds as you bounced on your heels and waited for him to trudge to the front door.

“What’s so exciting about furniture?” He grumbled, subconsciously taking the cart from your hands. Pushing into the store, Sukuna felt like he had been transported to another world. With staged living quarters that looked more real than his own home, he was at a loss for words.

“Sukuna, c’mere!” You were already ten paces ahead, standing at the entrance to one said fake home. Coming upon it, Sukuna nearly gagged at the color palette. There were bright orange tufted couches with a blue area rug and more pillows than he had owned his whole life. With white accents and gunmetal colored lamps, it looked far too much for him.

“It’s ugly.” He said, not caring about the other people around you that seemed to enjoy it.

“Really?” Taking another look around, you shrugged your shoulders and took a step back. “You’re right, it doesn’t really fit your whole vibe.”

That was definitely correct. If Sukuna had to give a name to his personal style it would be ‘who the fuck cares as long as it works’. He wasn’t one to dwell on his looks for too long, just content grabbing clothes that were easily accessible and trendy, ones that he knew would help him fit in. And that habit had bled into his furniture choice as well.

“Okay, you seemed to pin a lot of pictures that look like this-” Leaning over, he watched you scroll past picture after picture of what almost looked like the same thing, a living room with dark colored couches, a white rug and dark colored walls, almost always with a metal or dark wooden coffee table.

“Yeah, it fits me.” Wandering through the store, Sukuna glanced at an all white room with a window frame encasing a faux view of a city lit up at night. “None of this shit.” He made a vague gesture to the room, and the one following it that looked similar.

“You don’t want any bright colors at all?”

“My hair’s already pink, what more do you want?” That made you snort and giggle, and in turn made Sukuna smile.

“Okay but you can’t just have all black furniture, it’ll make your house feel like a dungeon.” Your hand came to rest on the handle of the shopping cart, dangerously close to laying on top of his. “Promise we’ll get at least a little color today? Maybe a yellow, or a pink to match your hair.”

“S-sure.” Sukuna couldn’t look at anything except for your hand. Your pinky finger was just barely touching his, almost enough that Sukuna could slide his hand under yours and interlace your fingers together.

“Ooh, what about this for your bedroom?” And just like that, you were gone. Dashing off to a display on the wall for bed sheets. “You said you only have a plain white one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about this? This design is really trendy right now.” You were pointing to one that was a deep navy, white grid lines crossing over to make big squares.

“I like it.”

“Awesome! Now, do you have a queen or a king bed?”

After picking out the bed sheets, Sukuna slowly opened up more to the idea of shopping. He was able to recognize pieces he’d seen on Pinterest, picking them out as things he readily liked and would enjoy looking at in his house. He was even persuaded to get a few area rugs for different places in his house, and before he knew it you had piled the basket high with things.

“Ah, today was so much fun!” You sang, bouncing in your seat on the way home from IKEA.

“Now I just need to build all this shit.” Sukuna was amazed at how much you’d convinced him to buy. He had new furniture for his bedroom, a new couch was going to be delivered, a dining table and chairs and even a new desk and chair for his office setup in the corner of his living room.

“Lemme help!” You looked far too eager to help him build, and although Sukuna wanted to tell you no - he really didn’t want you to see how he was currently living - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you in his house with him, working together on something.

“Alright. Let’s stop somewhere and get food though, I’m hungry.”

One quick fast food meal that Sukuna loathed later, you were carrying things up to his apartment. He refused to let you carry the heavy things even if he could really use the help with some of the oblong boxes. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you carried the small things.

When everything was inside the house, Sukuna watched your reaction to his place. You hadn’t made a sound when you first arrived, you were probably too busy trying to bring everything in from his car.

“Sukuna…” Scanning his apartment, your eyes landed on his abysmal furniture.

“Yeah?” He screwed his eyes shut, dreading what you had to say.

“This is totally what I expected from you.” You laughed, unpacking some of the fake plants you made him buy. “It totally fits you.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding in, Sukuna grabbed one of the boxes containing his new desk.

“Let’s get started.”

If Sukuna thought cooking with you was hard, building furniture with you was the final boss level. He had you read the instructions while he laid all the pieces out, and when you let out a whine at how many steps there were, Sukuna could have died happily right then and there.

It was easy to build the furniture he bought, but it wasn’t easy to work with you. There was no problem with your actual work, but the fact that Sukuna had to be so close to you at times, nearly hugging you when he had to hold up a piece for you to put a few screws in, it was too much to handle.

He quickly banished you to work on another project. It was your fault he kept getting distracted and forgetting what step he was on, so the only solution was to work on separate things. Plus, watching you flit around his house, hearing you change the bed sheets and lay down a new mat in the bathroom made him feel like you were newlyweds decorating your first home together.

“It looks so good in here!” It was well past dark when you finished everything. It truly did look like a brand new space, and not just in the living room. The touches you’d added, with bright pillows, fake plants and some actual art on the walls, made Sukuna happy to be home. His place finally felt like a home and not just somewhere to crash at the end of the day.

“You did a great job picking shit out, I woulda never been able to do all this.” Putting his arm around your shoulder, he gave you a squeeze.

“Are you gonna do a house tour when the couch and table come?” A house tour? Why would he do that? Knitting his brows together, Sukuna sent you a look. “C’mon, you know what a house tour is! All the popular Youtubers do them.” You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. “And aren’t you a popular Youtuber?”

“I-” Well, you had him beat there. His subscriber count was well into the millions at this point. “Okay, I’ll do one when the rest of the stuff comes.”

“Yes!” Bouncing up and down in joy, you clapped your hands together. “I’ll help you film, I know how bad you are at angles.”

“Hey! I’ve been getting better!”

In a week, you were back at his place, more excited than him to film this video. You’d helped prepare a little script should he need it, and you were fluffing all the pillows so they looked nice on camera.

“Let’s have an entryway shot, those always look so cool!”

“Whatever you say.” Sukuna was merely a puppet on your strings, maneuvering however you saw fit. He made his hands as steady as possible getting b-roll shots of everything in advance.

“If you forget what to say, remember I made a script!” With that final warning, you were standing at the entrance to his apartment and waving your hand. “Okay, start!”

“Hi people on the internet. This is my house tour that (Y/N) is making me do.”

“Shut up!” You laughed behind the camera, trying not to shake it.

“This is my kitchen and dining room, (Y/N) picked out the table and chairs for me.” Doing a sweep over the kitchen, he transitioned to the living room. “And this is the lounge room, where (Y/N) picked out the couch and rug, and my desk stuff over there.”

“Yeah, Sukuna had no rugs in his apartment before!”

“Mhmm.” Somehow Sukuna managed to not stumble over his words, easily recalling parts of the script you had written for him. Highlighting the fake plants and cheap art on the walls, the two of you stood in the bathroom together.

“Look, it’s us!” You waved to the camera in the mirror, nudging your shoulder with Sukuna. Suddenly, the image of getting ready in the morning with you or winding down after a long day together in the bath flashed before Sukunas eyes. What would it be like to come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and join you? Give you a shoulder massage under the hot running water, or to brush his teeth and tell you to hurry up and not waste water.

“And this is the bedroom.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, Sukuna hid his blush with his hand as he entered the room.

“Hold this.” Shoving the camera in his hands, you leapt onto the bed. “This is where I sleep!” Your laugh was easy and you rolled around his bed a few times, simply having fun wrinkling the sheets.

“Uh- w-wha-” Sukuna nearly dropped the camera in shock. Seeing you in his bed, even if it was just on top of the sheets fully clothed, made his heart stop. Gripping the camera hard in his suddenly sweaty hands, Sukuna nearly tossed it to the side and joined you.

“Just kidding!” You were already climbing out of bed as soon as that thought entered his head. “But isn’t this room pretty? I picked out most of the stuff in here too.” Just like that you were back to normal, talking about some random print on the wall that he’d ordered per your suggestion.

Needless to say, Sukuna had a hard time falling asleep that night, the image of you in his bed burned into his mind like it was the only thought he’d ever have again. His imagination was going wild, and he tossed and turned all night - even after relieving some tension.

With his new desk setup, Sukuna felt motivated to edit the video as fast as he could. What you said about improving his living quarters was true; now that his place looked nice, he felt nice in turn. He even left in the part where you jumped on his bed, adding a funny break in the video like you’d shown him.

‘IT’S CONFIRMED. IT’S CONFIRMED. THEY’RE DATING’

‘sirpohdjb my ship has sailed!!’

‘I come here to see why sukunax(Y/N) is trending and it’s this bullshit?? Y’all need to get a life’

Sukuna often felt like a fool when he was with you, and sometime after as well. Even from the first comment he left on your Instagram, he knew people shipped you together and wanted you to date. He felt embarrassed more times than not, but it seemed he never learned his lesson. That scene of you on his bed had gone viral and he regretted leaving it in.

But could you blame him? You made his head spin, most of the time leaving him incapable of doing anything else beside standing in his place looking stupid. It was hard to edit the videos you did together because reliving the footage made him dizzy all over again.

(Y/N): SUKUNA. ANSWER ME ITS URGENT

It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week and Sukuna had nothing better to do than laze around and do nothing. Except now, he was texting you back with his heart suddenly pounding.

Sukuna: what?! Is something wrong where are you??

So much adrenaline was coursing through his body that he had started to shake.

(Y/N): I just got a great idea, I need to know if you’ll do a video with me!

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Sukuna said out loud, staring at his phone in disbelief. This is what was so urgent? Nearly sending him into an early grave for a possible video?

Sukuna: what the fuck I thought it was serious

Sukuna: I thought you were in trouble

He wasn’t upset per say, but Sukuna was definitely annoyed.

(Y/N): sorry :( i didn’t mean to scare you

Sukuna: you did more than scare me

(Y/N): I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!

Now Sukuna felt bad and it wasn’t even his fault. In all the time you’d known each other, you never had a negative interaction. He waited five minutes for you to text something, but you didn’t and it was making him anxious all over again.

Sukuna: well tell me what the idea is

(Y/N): no, it’s okay it was a stupid idea anyway

It took you another five minutes to respond, and your answer made Sukuna groan.

Sukuna: you got me all worked up and you’re just gonna leave me hanging?

He had to rectify the situation somehow.

(Y/N): I just thought...of maybe doing your makeup for a video?

Sukuna: what

(Y/N): I told you it was stupid! Just forget it

Sukuna: shut up it’s not stupid

As typing bubbles appeared and then disappeared, Sukuna could just imagine the way your cheeks puffed out indignantly.

(Y/N): here’s a link to someone else who did it with her boyfriend, they had so much fun together!

(Y/N): let me know if you wanna do it, I think it could be a lot of fun…

Sukuna only needed to look at the thumbnail to know he would say yes. The two people on the screen were very close, with the girl nearly touching her boyfriend's face with her own. They had big smiles on their faces as well, and that enticed him more.

Sukuna: I’ll do it

(Y/N): really?? That’s awesome! Come over to my place on Friday, we’ll order pizza and make a day of it!

And that’s how Sukuna found himself in your filming room, stomach full of pizza with a disgustingly cute green frog headband keeping his hair back. He’d seen this room a hundred times in the backgrounds of your videos, but now he was actually here. There were even more plushies than appeared on camera and you had a humidifier going in the corner.

“Okay now stay still, I’m going to wipe a toner on your face.” He had no idea what that meant, watching you with curious eyes pick up a bottle from the table in front of you and dab the liquid onto a cotton pad. “Usually I use my hands to apply toner, but we wanna wipe the dust off.”

With a gentle hand, you held Sukuna by the chin and swiped the cotton across his face, it’s soft chemical scent wafting into his nose. It felt nice, having you apply toner and moisturizer on his face. The most he ever applied was sunscreen, but maybe he could convince you to do his skincare for him every day.

“So today, I chose this makeup look by Beyoncés makeup artist! It’s a really popular style called ‘soft glam’.” Sukuna nodded along with you like he understood what you meant, taking a glance at the picture on your phone before you showed it to the camera. “I think Sukuna would really fit this kind of look, he is a natural beauty afterall.”

“Shut up.” He snorted, a light flush heating his cheeks.

“It’s true! There’s so many comments under your house tour video saying how good you look with the new furniture.” You spoke about the new makeup you bought for the video as you applied the products. Sukuna tried to keep up with what you were doing and saying, but he couldn’t really contribute anything to the conversation about makeup.

“Tuck your lips in so you don’t get foundation in your mouth.”

“What?” He jerked away right as you lifted the small dish you had with what he assumed was foundation.

“I don’t think you want to eat makeup, do you?” You chuckled and pat him on the cheek. “Tuck your lips in.” Doing as you asked, Sukuna flinched when you gripped the back of his head. “Try not to move too much, I want it to be even.”

As you applied the foundation and subsequently the concealer and powder, Sukuna barely moved. In fact, he barely breathed. You had leaned in far closer than you’ve ever been to him, your breath lightly fanning over his face as you worked to smooth everything out.

The hand on the back of his head dipped down to rest at the base of his neck, your body coming to lean more onto him as time went by. You were speaking, Sukuna could hear it, but he wasn’t responding. The excuse was he didn’t want to mess you up, but in truth he couldn’t find any words to say.

“Look at you!” Holding up a mirror for him, you laughed at his shocked face. “How do you like it?”

“I look so flat.” Turning his head side to side, Sukuna lifted a hand to touch his face.

“Don’t touch it, you’ll mess it up!” Snatching his hand away, you held it tightly in your grasp. Sukuna was thankful for the layer of makeup he had on now, no one could see his blush.

“What’s next? This eyeshadow shit?” He picked up a product on a whim, opening it up and staring at it. “Why’s there only two colors? Why are both of them brown?”

“That’s contour, we’ll get to that! This is the eyeshadow!”

Putting eyeshadow on Sukuna was harder than both of you thought. Not used to the feeling of the brush, he twitched every time it was swiped across his eyelid. Through plenty of trial and error, and many times of you telling him to just take a deep breath, you got through it.

“I’m gonna have to cut out so much of you flinching.” You teased, checking the camera to make sure everything was still working.

“I don’t get how you can do this shit, it’s fucking awful.” All Sukuna wanted to do was rub his eyes and face until his skin went raw.

“We aren’t even at the worst part yet: eyeliner.” Taking a seat, you lifted up a simple black pen.

“Oh god.” Hanging his head, Sukuna said a quick prayer for his eyes before straightening up and taking a deep breath.

“Sukuna, I gotta ask you something.”

“What is it?” Cracking an eye open, you were looking at him with your lip caught between your teeth.

“Can I...I need to sit in your lap to do eyeliner.” Sukuna audibly and quite loudly gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “When I help my friends with eyeliner I sit in their laps! It’s just easier that way!”

“I-I uhm- okay?” He eventually forced the word out, copying your movements and turning his chair to face yours. “What uh- what should I…?”

“Sit still.” Pulling your chair flush with his, you pushed Sukuna’s legs closed and scooted up his thighs until your butt was firmly seated on him. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, you uncapped the eyeliner. “There, now I can get started.”

Sukuna was in so much shock, he didn’t move. Even when the eyeliner tickled the inner corner of his eye, even when you moved his hands to rest near your lower back so you wouldn’t slide off, even when you did the bottom lashline, he was frozen.

If this is what heaven looked like for him, he would gladly take it and never leave. Your face was so close, he could feel it even when his eyes were closed. The soft skin of your hand held his powdered cheek gently, keeping yourself steady as you drew the lines on his eyes.

“All done.” You whispered. Sukuna opened his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat; your face was close enough that if he tried to focus too hard he’d go cross eyed. You weren’t paying attention to his reaction at all, too focused on making sure his eyes were even.

The rest of the time went by in a blur. You’d slid off his lap after that, diving right into putting more powders on his cheeks. Swiping thick gloss on his lips is what drew him out of his stupor and into another one as you once again held his chin, swiping the corner of his mouth with your thumb when you were done.

“Sukuna, you look so good!” You said with a slight whine, showing all angles of his face off to the camera before showing him. “You have to promise when you get rich and famous and become a global celebrity that you won’t forget about me.”

“Shut up, you know I won’t.” He said with a smirk, swiping the mirror from you. “(Y/N)...I look fucking hot.” Bursting into laughter, you wiped imaginary sweat off your brow.

“Well I guess I don’t have to ask how you like it!” Patting him on the back, you got up to stretch and check the camera one last time.

“Would you fuck me, ‘cause I’d fuck me.” Sukuna said to himself, striking a few poses in the mirror and for the camera. “Hey, you watching this video you better fucking share this with all your friends. Everyone needs to see how hot I am.”

“We should have ordered you some clothes, turned you into an Instagram baddie!” You teased from behind the camera.

“Please, I don’t need fancy clothes when I’m this sexy.” Running a hand through his hair, Sukuna pointed the mirror at you. “Be honest (Y/N), you wanna date me right now. I look so hot, I bet I’m gonna have thousands of DM’s.” Sukuna’s confidence was the highest it's ever been around you. For some reason, the makeup gave him more assurance.

“Well let me know when to schedule a date with you then, I’d love to grab dinner sometime.”

“I’ll have my assistant pencil you in.” He joked, looking back at himself in the mirror. Sitting back down, you ended the video and made Sukuna wave to the camera. Not turning off the lights you used to film, you made him snap several pictures with you.

“This video was so much fun, Sukuna, thank you!” Rocking back and forth in your seat, you had a demure look while you fiddled with your phone. “And I wasn’t joking about dinner. I really like you, Sukuna.” That made Sukuna stop in his tracks, nearly throwing the mirror down in shock as he turned to look at you.

“Huh?!”

“I-I mean- I mean I like hanging out with you!” Obviously embarrassed, you leaped from your seat and began turning the filming lights off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Both yours and Sukunas faces were burning with embarrassment, awkwardly not looking at each other.

“(Y/N)...” Sukuna half stood from his chair, forcing himself to move despite how awkward he felt. “I-”

“Let’s wash off that makeup now, I bet it’s uncomfortable.” Keeping your eyes trained on the floor, you went to the door. “I’ll show you what to use in the bathroom.”

The tension in the air was thick after that, and it remained that way for a few days after. Sukuna knew what he heard, he saw how your face looked as you said you liked him, he could hear the sincerity in your voice. But it obviously wasn’t something you were ready to say, as evident as you not texting him as much as you usually did.

When the video went up, Sukuna immediately felt butterflies in his stomach all over again watching it. Reminded of how close you were to him made him ache to have you near him, and seeing you sitting on his lap had another feeling rising in his stomach, warming him up in an embarrassing way.

He patrolled the comments as usual, but there were no mean ones that he could yell at. All of them were screaming about how the video just confirms that the two of you are dating, and surprisingly they weren’t calling out him for looking like he was in love with you.

The comments teased you this time, keen longtime viewers of yours pointing out specific timestamps where you looked embarrassed or looked like you wanted to kiss him. Sukuna checked out every single one, liking the comment for showing him that what you said earlier wasn’t a mistake.

Ever since that day, it seemed like you were promoting on Instagram and Twitter a lot more. Sukuna already had notifications turned on for all your socials and there was a definite uptick in your content posted to those platforms.

There were more sponsored posts and polls posted asking your followers for style advice, and which beauty items they preferred more. Sukuna was happy to see you got an increase in brand deals from the video you did together, a video that had now easily reached five million views and counting. He congratulated you whenever he saw a sponsored post, sending you cute little emojis along with the praise.

All week you had been hinting that there was a big announcement coming, a major event in your life that you were so excited to share with everyone. Sukuna, along with all your other followers, ate up all the crumbs you left throughout the week. Many suspected you were going to go work for a designer label, while others assumed you’d announce a sudden marriage.

(Y/N): Sukuna, check Instagram!

You texted him in the evening on Friday, but he didn’t need the update. He was already on your page when the post was dropped, waiting impatiently for the picture to load.

“A TV show, huh?” As he read the promo photo, he smiled. Appearing on a TV show was a big opportunity for you, one that was sure to lead to many more. Your role wasn’t stated in the photo, but your promo picture was a professional one no doubt taken at a studio.

“Wait, what?” When Sukuna got to the caption, he took a pause. Why were you going on a dating show? He read the words over and over, hoping for a different outcome each time. But there was no denying you’d be going on a dating show.

Checking out the show's page, Sukuna let out a groan. All the male contestants were hot and not even he could deny it. Some had muscles like he did, others were more unconventionally attractive.

Sukuna: you’re going on a dating show?

It took him a while to text you back. In fact, it took nearly thirty minutes for him to text you. Sukuna had gone through all five stages of grief several times, coming back to being in denial over and over again.

Dragging his feet to his kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine that one of his rich clients at the gym gifted him. Popping the cork, he collapsed onto his couch and took a long drink from the bottle.

(Y/N): yeah, I’m super nervous!

Sukuna: I bet

Oh, did he fucking bet. He’d gone through all the male contestants' Instagram pages, trying to talk them down in an attempt to lessen the blow that he could potentially lose you to one of them. Why did he have to wait so long to confess to you? Now the chance was gone, possibly forever.

(Y/N): what do you think about the show? I was kind of scared to take the deal

You didn’t want to know how he really felt.

Sukuna: it’s a great opportunity, great for exposure and it’s a lot of money

(Y/N): that’s true!! I’ll have to treat you to dinner with my first TV check!

Just great, a chance for you to gush about whoever you met on the dating show. Taking another long drink from the bottle, Sukuna crumpled even more into his couch. Back were the stages of grief, each emotion washing over him until he mustered up the courage to do something about it.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, confused as to why Sukuna called you instead of replying to your messages.

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name firmly, honing in on a spot in the ceiling. Swallowing around a growing lump in his throat, Sukuna forced the next words out. “I like you. I-I really, really like you.”

“What?” He could hear you gasp over the phone.

“I know, what kind of asshole confesses to you when you’re about to go on a TV dating show?” He chuckled, taking a deep breath. “But it’s true. I wanna be your boyfriend, (Y/N). I know it’s too late to back out of the show but-”

“Sukuna-”

“No, let me say this. I know it’s too late to back out, and-”

“Sukuna!”

“And I don’t want to hold you back from finding someone better suited-”

“Sukuna!”

“Better suited for you than me. I’m just a dumb, muscled up chump that-”

“Sukuna I’m a stylist, not a contestant!” You were finally able to get a word in, face flushed from the sudden onslaught of emotions going through you. Sukuna was silent on the other end, mouth hanging open as he processed the words.

“Y-you’re a...a stylist? So you won’t be dating any of them?” He whispered after a few moments, the shock starting to wear off and being replaced with humiliation.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the styling team.” Your voice also dropped to a whisper, the weight of his words beginning to settle down on the both of you.

“Oh god.” Putting the bottle down, Sukuna slapped himself in the forehead. He had never felt like a bigger idiot than in this moment. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, just- just forget it.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to forget it. I...I want you to be my boyfriend too, Sukuna.” There was a pregnant pause, and you could practically hear Sukuna’s brain working overdrive.

“Let’s go out on a date!” He shouted, pushing himself off the couch and to a shaky stand. “I’m free whenever, let’s go on a date!” The alcohol was definitely affecting him more than he first thought, and Sukuna fell back down onto the couch.

“Really? Okay, how about tomorrow? That’s like the only day with good weather for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Sleeping restlessly through the night, Sukuna woke up way earlier than his alarm. Taking an obscene amount of time getting ready, he was still early to your house. Taking a lap around the block, he went to a flower shop and bought you a handful of flowers.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, almost meek as you entered his car.

“Hey. I got you these.” Handing you the flowers, Sukuna bit his lip nervously.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Gently hugging them to your chest, your nerves began to melt away and you smiled, making Sukuna smile as well.

Sukuna once again had you pick the cafe you were going to. This one was in a bustling downtown street, not in the middle of the countryside, and as you two walked down the street there were couples passing you left and right.

Snagging an outdoor seat, Sukuna went inside to order for you. This cafe, unlike the last, actually served coffee and Sukuna was quick to get a large cup of it. Buying a few croissants cutely decorated with various creams, he went back outside.

“Say, you’re really cute, why don’t we sit and chat for a bit?” An unknown man was standing near your table, and Sukuna caught the tail end of his sentence.

“N-no, I’m good.” Your eyes were glued to your lap, obviously uncomfortable with the attention you were receiving.

“Aw, really? A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be all alone!” The man had a sleazy grin on his face, visibly eyeing you up in a salacious manner. “My name is-”

“Baby, who’s this guy?” Sukuna had had enough. Stepping right up to the table, he nearly slammed the tray in his hands down on the table. Your head shot up, relief flashing across your face.

“Who are you?” The man scoffed, curling his lip in disgust.

“I’m their boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” Puffing up his chest a little bit, Sukuna stared the man down.

“Boyfriend? They didn’t say anything about having a boyfriend.” The man attempted to look at you again, but Sukuna beat him to it and caught your eye instead.

“Geez baby, I know we had that fight before we came but I’m hurt! If I get rid of this creep, will you call me your boyfriend again?” Laying a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, Sukuna gave it a squeeze.

“Y-you’re always gonna be my boyfriend, dummy.”

“That just warms my heart!” Sighing loudly, Sukuna gave the man a not so subtle push away from the table. “Well, you heard ‘em. Get lost, you worthless sack of shit.” Grumbling, the man walked away and Sukuna took his rightful seat next to you.

“Thank you.” Immediately, you latched onto him, squeezing his arm in a tight hug as you pressed your face into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Wrapping you up more tightly in a hug, Sukuna pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I would have beat him up if you wanted. Men are fucking disgusting.”

“Sukuna, you are a man.” You laughed lightly.

“Exactly my point.” Rubbing a hand on your back, Sukuna picked up one of the croissants. “I hope you like these because I can already tell it’ll be too sweet for me.” You laughed again and sat up, keeping your face close to his.

“I have something sweet for you too, I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” Quirking a brow, Sukuna jumped when you planted your lips on his. The kiss didn’t last long and the taste of your lip balm and feel of your lips was permanently engraved into Sukunas brain.

“There.” Your cheeks were absolutely on fire, shame rolling off of you in waves at having your first kiss in a crowded cafe on a busy day in the city. It wasn’t even a particularly romantic setting, but something spurred you to do it.

“W-what the hell! You can’t just do that!” Sukuna gasped, his own cheeks burning a deep, scalding red. “You gotta warn a guy first!” His dramatics were drawing attention from the other patrons, making the situation even worse.

“Sshh, you’re being too loud!”

“Like I care! Kiss me again, I’m ready this time!” Grabbing you by the shoulders, Sukuna tried to kiss you.

“W-wait, there’s people watching!”

“I don’t give a fuck who’s watching!” Grabbing your chin, Sukuna kissed you much firmer than when you kissed him. It lasted longer as well, bordering on too long for what is accepted in public. “There.” Pulling away slightly out of breath, Sukuna sat back in his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

“You’re so embarrassing.” You whined, hiding your face in your hands and hitting Sukuna with your head.

“All I’m hearing is how great of a boyfriend I am.”

“No you’re not.” You countered, getting wrapped in a side hug by Sukuna.

“It’s debatable.” Picking up the croissant he dropped, Sukuna took a bite. “Hm, this is sweet but not as sweet as that kiss you gave me.”

“Sukuna!”

[ackerfics]

this is completely out of the blue but because of this project, i won't be making that much reader fics here ;< for those who don't know, i've been working on a longer aot fic on ao3 and wattpad. i'll be posting the sort of prologue here if you, lovely doves, are interested. feel free to send me asks about this as well owo ^^

prologue of diadems: the burning skies.

(take note this is an oc story, not a reader insert)

c. year 835

An engulfing inferno — tangerine and scarlet tendrils wrapping around walls and banisters. It was a scene not meant to be admired despite sharing the same palette as the setting sun. Sparks flew as pillars toppled down like the dynasty residing in the Victorian house. Torches lit up the dusky sky, another rain of fire coming down onto the woodwork that was home to three children with separate dreams. Laughter morphed into screams of terror. Dreams turned into a paralysis demon creeping around the corner. Orders were thrown to uniformed men, time ticking by until every crevice of the house became black snow fluttering against the wind.

A man with deep lines embedded on his face scowled. His back was straight and ramrod, proudly showcasing his position as the commander of this group of men. He watched the breaking house with a grim expression, transparent hatred in his eyes, and hand crumpling the document in his hand. His scowl made way for a sneer, “Burn everything to the ground! Make sure no one survives!”

“Yes, sir!”

The man spat, “They think they can hide, huh? These motherfuckers — parasites. They should’ve been dead a long time ago, along with those Ackermans.”

Hooves pounded on the dirt. Pants created puffs of moisture in the air. Scarlet zipped by the countryside plains. A green cloak of wings billowed through the wind torrents.

A young soldier frantically made a salute — a fist on his heart. “Sir, we’re missing someone.”

The commanding officer felt the air run cold. His eyes widened a fraction. “What?”

The horse showed no signs of slowing down.

“Vee, you’re going too fast!”

In an impossible feat, the person named Vee veered their horse to defy the laws of nature and almost flew towards the burning estate. It was but a minuscule blob of orange paints on the countryside’s canvas and yet it ignited something primal within them. Words weren’t replied to the person riding behind but Vee’s silence was enough to let the others know this growing loathing ran deeper than their anger for the humanoid man-eating monsters outside the walls. Silent glances were exchanged by Vee’s companions and they could only increase their speed to catch up to the fastest soldier known to man, whether it be soaring through the air or galloping by horse.

“Who are we missing?” The commanding officer with the darkest heart dangerously drawled.

The younger man avoided the senior’s glacial glare. All he could focus on was a toy soldier lying on the grass by his boot. It made bile rise to his throat. He was a murderer. Of an acquaintance’s family. There was no going back now. He had to pay the price. “The oldest daughter.”

“Damn it!” The one who always examined the pieces on the chessboard bellowed loud and clear at the young soldier, “Find whoever is missing! Bring her here and make her kneel for what her family has done against the crown! Shoot her if you must. We must honor the name of the sacred monarchy who gave us our lands.” He nodded at the weapon strapped on the soldier’s back. “I expect you to not fail, cadet.”

A shaky nod was all the young man could muster. He took the gun from his back and clicked it with his eyes still trained on the toy soldier. Was this what he signed up for? He only hoped to be closer to the walls for a safer route — to be with the woman that he loved. His posture was tense as he realized that the most perfect shade of red stained his pristine trousers, the same color on the head of the boy that he watched burn in the manmade hell behind him. His screams echoed in the soldier’s mind like the ringing bell in the churches of the phony religion he now saw while going to work. “Yes, sir.” Despite the turmoil his mind fabricated, the young man stood straight and walked with a purpose towards his fellow cadets. “We have to find her,” was his only statement to them and a search party began.

Galloping horses came from everywhere all at once.

The small group of three finally reached their destination.

Horror was painted on all their faces at the sight.

Before this tragic event, these warm shades were reminiscent of the sunset touching the horizon whenever they were doing their adventures in the outside world. It was a symbol of hope for them.

Then, a blood-curdling scream tore through the twilight.

“Vee!” The brown-haired bespectacled person in their trio swiftly turned around. “Erwin, protect her!”

Without telling twice, a sturdy pair of arms instantly wrapped around the middle of the Vee person, who threw herself off her horse to scramble towards the estate of embers. Anguished wails pierced the suffocating smoke. It was almost animalistic — how Vee desperately longed to go into the fray. “Let go of me, Erwin!” She continued screaming, starlight dripping down her cheeks in a continuous waterfall. The gold irises that were once described as the sun blazed with a hatred brighter than any luminary. “Let go of me. I have to go to Mom and Dad! Daphne and Alistair are there, too. Just let me go — FUCK!”

Erwin Smith grunted every time the girl in his hold dug her elbow deep into his stomach. His chest ached at his friend and all he could do was tighten his arms around her as she screamed for her family’s names with all the air that she could breathe. It captured the attention of the remaining soldiers, who only remembered of the spitfire that managed to escape the clutches of this massacre by joining the military. Erwin met gazes with the cold commander, recognition flashing in the blue flecks of the former’s eyes.

Military Police.

“Those bastards.” The brown-haired person placed a firm hand around the sobbing girl’s arm.

“They will pay,” the girl glowered at the commanding officer. The ache inside her chest spread a hundredfold when she saw how the authority figure puffed his chest. They won. What did she do for them to slaughter every single one of her family members? What did her family do? She kept struggling in Erwin’s arms until her brown-haired friend appeared in front of her, their hands keeping her face in place. She could see her reflection on their glasses. That was all it took for the anger to dissipate and for the agony to prevail. She just lost her family. A whimper made its way through her throat, “Hange.”

All hope inside Maeve Chevalier vanished at the hair-raising gunshot reverberating from the woods within the estate.

Then another gunshot. And another. Then, a scream. A gunshot. Until the crows flew from the treetops. Finally, there was silence.

A woman with tresses of scarlet hair felt the scratches on her cheek drip sunbeams. This was supposed to be a normal afternoon of tea and scones, where the family should be welcoming home their little soldier from her current expedition. Not a day for bloodshed. The last thing that happened before the military raided their home was her little brother playing with the baby in her arms. Her baby. The woman looked down without slowing her run. Hair as red as blood and face that looked like hers, the woman felt her tears cascade down her cheeks. Her darling daughter who deserved the beauty and wonder of the entire world, who would someday become a brilliant mind that would help liberate the people in their kingdom, who was her pride and joy the moment she wailed her first cry.

She was a mother and to Hell with her life — she would do anything for her child.

Hope came in the form of a cart sitting idly at the side of the dirt trail.

The red-haired woman gazed down at her sleeping daughter and marveled at how the infant stayed calm throughout the series of unfortunate events. With her feet crumpling the leaves on the forest floor, the woman peeked through the back of the cart and found some crates with fragile belongings wrapped around in thick cloth. The woman’s eyelids flickered with hesitance. Movement from the bundle in her arms snapped her out of her reverie. Her baby opened her eyes and two pairs of gold met for the last time.

The mother brushed her lips on the baby’s forehead, tiny hands patting her chin. Her bottom lip quivered, the thought of separating with her child weighing down like the sky. Then, the sound of shouting was getting nearer and nearer. Instead of putting her daughter inside the crates, she tightened her embrace around her. She didn’t want to part with her.

The first gunshot acted like thunder in the foliage.

“I know she’s not far!”

She bit her lip to prevent the sob from coming out. One look at that beautiful faerie smile and the woman felt her heart stutter. “Are you going to Scarborough Fair?” Her voice cracked as she heard the horses lessening their distance from her. “Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. I don’t want to leave you, my little sunrise.” She composed herself to finish the song. She hoped that this would stay within her daughter’s memories, even if all the girl could see in the future was a blurry silhouette of a wailing woman desperately clinging on to the last thread connecting them. “Remember me to the one who lives there.” Her little song was about to end and she placed her forehead on the baby’s. “For once he was a true love of mine.”

Another gunshot landed on the tree a few feet away from the cart and the horses in front of the vehicle made a fuss.

The woman jumped, breath hitching. Time is of the essence and she had no choice but to tenderly place her daughter on one of the crates of painting supplies. She backed away from the cart with her hands pressed tightly on top of her heart. Feet became meters and now she was too far away from the cart to see it over the brushes.

The pain of losing her family washed over her, her knees giving out from under her skirts. She witnessed her husband get shot a dozen times on the chest, protecting her and telling her to run to get their daughter. She watched on as her mother and father got slit in the throat with the daggers they paired with their guns. At that point, the air was too much for her to intake. All she could do was clutch her baby close to her chest, praying for the gods to show them mercy — to make her wake up from her nightmares. But they never listened. Then, it was her little brother — poor, brilliant Alistair. He got the worst of it. He was trapped under the inferno that tickled Hell with its fingers. The woman couldn't get his screams out of her head as his golden skin became charred. Before she knew it, she was a spirit bringing the news of the dead. She screamed and screamed until her voice became hoarse, so unlike the dulcet one she used to sing a lullaby a few moments prior.

Behind her, the horses came to a stop. A gun was cocked and pointed at where her heart was.

The woman looked at the front, now silent and eyes devoid of life.

“This must be done. All Chevaliers are enemies of the throne and crown. This is for the King of the Walls. So, stop running and accept your fate.”

The young soldier who was appointed to kill the woman took a shaky breath, a single tear dripped down on the apple of his cheek.

“For once he was a true love of mine.”

A heart stopped and the baby cried inside the cart.

The fall of a dynasty was now a frequent thing for the history books — a dynasty that was thought to be unshakeable that not even the heavens could topple down. Just like all heroes, it fell down with only a mourning vengeance left behind — a heartened resolve to steel herself from preventing another familial slaughter. Ethereal gold was smeared on every wall of the house and shrubs of the forest. A family lost and a name forgotten.

Until a painter from the southernmost city opened her door to receive the supplies she ordered from the inner walls.

A miracle sent down by the heavens was found within the crate of her jar of paints and brushes. A baby of the most beautiful shade of scarlet greeted the painter’s vision, a beacon in the abysmal night — a dawn of another day. The painter fell in love at first sight with a single angelic dimpled smile, a constellation of light freckles covering the baby’s cheeks. A breath of awe came out of the artiste. She knows that this baby would grow up to be loved by all who meet her. An embroidery caught her attention, poking through the back of the blanket that safely wrapped around the baby girl. She carefully unfolded the material and smiled at the name she was about to call the little miracle. The painter turned back to the baby, who was cooing at her with her chubby arms outstretched. Brushing a finger against her cheek, the painter now became a mother.

“Welcome to your new home, Aurora.”

[girlmeetsliv3]

Prince of Nothing III

~ Part Three of Five ~

Release Date: July 17,2020 @ 12 a.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 6,646

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: Some of the contents in this story may not be suitable for all audiences. These include toxic relationships, manipulation, gore and various forms of abuse as well as rationalization of said abuse. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

           A small part of Yoongi trembles at the sight of the light blue house just a few feet away. It had been several weeks since he’d been there and it took all of his self-control, and a bit more, to stay away. It was his safe space. Somewhere he felt incredibly safe and after the guilt threatened to eat him alive Yoongi needed a break. Needed his songbird to take away his pain even if it was momentarily. The driver opened the car door, allowing him to step out. His saunter was light, feet barely touching the ground, even though he desired nothing more than to break into a sprint. Min Yoongi must always maintain an air of pacificity and general aloofness. Emotions were a weakness and now that the prince was aware of his, Yoongi had to proceed with caution.

           “Welcome home, Master.”

           “Where is he?”

           Yoongi wasted no time with pleasantries. His cat-like eyes darted around every corner of the room attempting to find any trace of his beloved. “He’s in the garden master. He hasn’t eaten much since your departure.” Yoongi sighed, heading towards the back porch. There were many places that his songbird was allowed to be inside the manor, but he always preferred the garden. It was the only piece of the outside world he was entitled to see, Yoongi had told him it was for his protection. Even if they both knew it was a lie.

           As he turned the corner he suddenly stopped, from where he stood he could see the porch in all its entirety. The glass that encased it allowed for one to view the beauty of the outside world without being exposed to the harshness the elements may bring. It was a beautiful day, the setting sun filtered through the glass creating prisms of rainbows which danced around the room but what shined brightly was him: draped longingly across the plush blue velvet chaise. The tan of his skin glowed effortlessly and Yoongi always found himself admiring it. When he wasn’t admiring the pillowy lips, sharp eyes, and rounded bottom that is.

           “Songbird?” The man in question paid him no mind, despite Yoongi knowing he'd been heard. Slowly he approached him, his songbird was delicate yet ferocious. Life had forced him to live on extremes to survive and though Yoongi wished he could say that all of this had changed since being in his care - it had only worsened.  

“I thought you would’ve replaced me by now. Seeing as you have found yourself a new toy.” There was an edge to the man’s tone, the words almost withered at the end.

Yoongi rushed towards him, his strong arms cradling his fragile lover, as he tried to calm his fears. “No, my love. That wasn’t for me. It was a favor I did for the prince.” His songbird stilled in his arms, he had only met the prince once in his life but it was enough to instill fear in him forever. A repressed memory of blood and screams flashing in front of the young man’s eyes. Yoongi didn’t understand why his lover struggled to get out of his hold.

“J-”

“So you’ve condemned someone else to suffer the same fate as I have?!" There it was the rage in his eyes. Yoongi shakes his head ready to defend himself, but his love doesn't buy it. "Why else would a Jeon be interested in a commoner?!" Despite all his efforts, Yoongi managed to maneuver the man back into his arms. Yoongi felt fire travel through his veins, vexed at how his beloved behaved.

“Don’t speak as if you are a prisoner. I have given you the world.”

“In return, you’ve locked me away in a cage, so that your songbird may only sing for you.”

Yoongi scoffs, shoving his songbird off him and standing up. "If you don't want me then, I'll leave. Wallow in your self-pity by yourself." Before Yoongi could take even a step away, the younger man had grabbed hold of his wrist. It was several seconds of tense silence before he finally spoke. "I've longed for you so much. Please don't leave me alone again." Just like that his songbird was broken once again, unable to sing. Tenderly, Yoongi placed his hands on either side of his lover's cheeks, cupping them gently as he leaned in closer. Their kiss was superficial, one-sided, but it didn't mean it wasn't passionate. Even if one side was fulled by love and the other by loathing.

YN ran through the long-winded corridors attempting to find a way out. She had been running for several minutes now and knew that she couldn’t be too far off from a staircase or the servant’s quarters, but her surroundings remained the same. It felt as if she was running in place. As if the castle itself was determined to not let her escape. Eventually, YN’s body grew depleted and she rested against the wall, listening intently for either guards or her captor to come to find her. It was the rhythmic clicking of heels that alerted her that someone was near. Vito, who had been comfortably resting upon YN’s forearm trailed up her body, wrapping across her neck and dangling down: ready to attack.

Jungkook had given YN a weapon, one that wouldn’t attack him, but wouldn’t hesitate to defend her. It caused her to worry, it meant that the prince was certain he was not the only threat to her safety. It seems there were those who were bigger and worse than him - or liked to pretend they were. Mistress Eun rounded the corner, her flamboyant yellow dress caused her to stick out like a sore thumb. It had been weeks since YN had seen the woman responsible for her brother’s death. If it were up to Eun both of them would be six feet under. Mistress Eun, in a world of her own, didn’t notice YN until they were mere feet apart. Her expression was one of shock before she quickly schooled it, grinning maliciously.

“Well if it isn’t the talk of the town.” Eun’s eyes dragged down YN’s figure and a disgruntled look overcame her face when she noted how YN’s lavish gowns far surpassed hers. “If it isn’t the prince’s whore, look at you effectively climbing up the social ladder. What would your brother say?”

YN didn’t respond, too furious to even attempt too, on the outside though she looked nonchalant and that bothered the older woman. It enraged her. “You really ought to be thanking me, child, if it weren’t for me you would have never met the prince. Likely would’ve died in a pigsty with no one to remember you.” The wrath turned icy cool and YN began to wonder if this is how Jungkook felt at times. She could almost hear him whispering to her: Do it. Hurt her. You know you want to. Mistress Eun stepped closer to YN, face mere inches away from hers as she hurled more insults. “The two of you were rats. Pests. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here so don’t think so highly of yourself. You’re just a plaything to spare his boredom.” YN smirked causing Eun’s blood to boil.

You wouldn’t get caught. It would be so simple. Vito could do it. YN tightened her fists, letting her nails dig into the palms of her hands.

“Then again, had your brother simply accepted to sleep with me and not embarrassed me with his rejection he’d still be alive.” Had Eun known those words would seal her fate, perhaps she’d have been more careful. Though it is unlikely she would have, she was never particularly smart and always brash.

YN’s hands flew around Eun’s throat tightening and squeezing as Vito jumped out aiding her. Do it! Kill her! It was not her voice inside her head, it was not her controlling her movements. Once YN realized that she ripped her hands off Eun's throat, taking Vito with her. By then, however, it was too late. Mistress Eun lay dead on the castle floor. The shock caused YN to remain frozen staring at the hollow eyes that seemed to plead at her. Her haze dropped to her hands where Vito was resting, they were shaking incessantly. Jungkook’s voice was no longer in her head, but YN was certain it wasn’t a delusion. What is going on? Strong arms wrapped around YN’s torso hoisting her up, YN’s reaction was too delayed to have been able to do anything.

It was someone YN had never met, blonde ashen hair stood out against his dark palette. He cast one glance at Eun before his hooded eyes fell upon YN a sense of familiarity in them. “The guards will be here any second. Run straight and turn left, there is a large tapestry attached to the wall. Push against it with all your might, it’s a door. Follow the sound of the cicadas and you’ll make it out.” YN parted her lips to question him, but she heard the distant murmurs of guards. “Take that thing with you.” The stranger looked disparagingly at Vito who hissed back. YN gripped the serpent in her hand and took off, sparing one final glance at the mysterious stranger.

Jungkook held the mouse over Morte’s head, allowing the snake to lunge before quickly moving it away. This continued until the activity eventually grew dull and Jungkook let the dead mouse drop into the snake’s jaw. The young prince rolled over onto his bed, his mind drifting towards YN’s fear-ridden expression when she’d failed at hurting him. Not to mention the look of shock when he’d called her his queen. The girl was full of surprises and was like a drug to Jungkook - strangely addicting. A part of him longed to be near her at all times but knew that wouldn’t be the smartest decision. There were always eyes on Jeon Jungkook, but now there were eyes on YN too and he couldn’t risk it. Not if he wanted his plan to work.

Morte stilled beside him alerting Jungkook to the potential danger. Jungkook lifts himself from his bed, looking towards the door. Awaiting the knock that was sure to come, Jungkook wondered who would be so audacious as to bother him in his bed chambers. They were likely more reckless than bold. "Come in." Jungkook mumbles, seconds later Seo Kangjoon is greeting him. Jungkook supposes he should have known it wouldn't be long before the Seo’s came to force his hand. It aggravated him to no end that they thought he would simply bend over to their will. The Seo’s held power: their family was the head of agriculture in the land. The crown needed them for crops and they were very popular, along with the peasantry, seen as beautiful yet polite people. What a fucking joke. Jungkook saw through their facade, much like everyone else the Seo’s were desperate for more power. Becoming part of the royal family would provide that in unprecedented amounts.

“To what do I owe the pressure of having the Kangjoon in my bedroom unannounced? Hoping for a repeat of that night?” Jungkook smirked, seeing Kangjoon visibly tense. The prairie’s golden boy had too much to drink during his bachelor’s night and Jungkook was there to witness his true depravity. Kangjoon shook his head, “Would you have accepted my requests to see you had I done so officially, your highness?” It annoyed the prince to no end how Seo refused to play along. Kangjoon wasn’t as smart as Soojin, not by any means, but it was his sex that determined he be the heir. Even if Soojin was destined to rule. Though Kangjoon’s intelligence lay in his practicality - which is why he always refused to engage in mind games with the prince. He knew he’d lose.

“I am here to warn you.” Oh? "I have a meeting with the king to discuss your marriage with my cousin. We don't wish to force the hand of a future family member, but given the recent developments, we are quite embarrassed. I hope you understand." Kangjoon bowed deeply, excusing himself before heading towards the King's corridors. Jungkook gazed out towards his spot, his hand lashed out gripping the canopy of his bed and in one swift move, it crushed in his hand. It almost landed on his snake had Morte not had fast reflexes. Jungkook left the room searching for his beloved fiance.  

           Soojin had never looked worse. The purple welts around her neck were too small and thin to have been caused by human hands leading Jungkook to assume it had been Vito who’d done the damage and not YN. Still, Soojin’s usually perfect hair was a tangled mess that darted in every direction and her almond eyes were puffy and red around the edges. The second she saw Jungkook she let him know who was to blame, “She did this to me.” Jungkook didn’t answer simply kissing her forehead gently, Soojin leaned into his embrace. Soojin places her head in the crook of the prince’s neck closing her eyes. Her neck ached painfully, but she had refused any more medication not wanting to see the pitying look of the palace’s healer.

           “Your cousin is here to speak to my father about our wedding.”

           Soojin stills, raising her head cautiously. She recognizes the edge in Jungkook’s tone. “I’m sorry. It isn’t him, but my mother who insists we be wed. I told her about the king, but-”

           “Shush.” Jungkook smiled tenderly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Soojin frowned, confused by his words, Jungkook hated being told what to do. Undermining him to go see his father would have definite consequences. “In fact, I think they’re right.” Soojin pulled away from Jungkook, needing space to properly comprehend what he was saying.

           Jungkook smiles, dimples on show, “Let’s get married.”

           YN had been walking for hours, it had been evening when YN had escaped but something told her it was nearing dawn. The corridors were cold and damp, unlike the rest of the palace they looked incredibly old. A testament to its legacy. The cold had been too much for Vito who was now nestled inside YN’s bosom, needing heat to survive. Being unable to properly see anything in front of her due to the darkness, it made her footing sloppy. So, when she stepped on a loose stone and twisted her ankle she went down with great force. “Fuck.” It was then that YN began to wonder if she would die inside the castle walls. Her body withering away until nothing, but a corpse remained. Would she join her brother? Or had her actions led to her having a reserved space in hell? YN was somewhat surprised Jungkook hadn’t found her yet but was also terrified that her thoughts seemed to always go to him.

           It was as if she was under a spell. Though it was certain that Jungkook had found a way to bind Vito to her, she didn't want to focus on how she questioned if the prince had done the same thing to them. Before with Eun, she had not been herself. As if someone were coercing her into doing said things. YN trembled with fear if Jungkook could coerce her into murder then what else could he have her do?

           “He’s a menace!”

           Her head snapped left as she heard more yells and strange noises. YN pushed herself up from the ground with the little strength that remained and walked towards them. Soon enough, YN saw a light, getting closer; she saw what looked like a window peering into the room. Upon closer inspection, it was a mirror that looked into someone’s private office though who YN couldn’t decipher. Not until the figure emerged from the corner babbling to himself in an incoherent way that explained his state of mind. “Jungkook has been a murderer since the day he was born and will lead this kingdom to ruin if I don’t stop him!” YN’s hands flew up to her mouth to stop the gasp. YN had heard much about King Jeon the II growing up, the man was ferocious in the way only a Jeon could be. Still, he paled in comparison to Jeon the I, and that meant the war and social injustices that had long plagued the kingdom ended during his reign, or so it seemed.

           YN couldn’t see all of him now, his back was towards her as the King faced a portrait hanging on the wall. Nonetheless, she could recognize the familiar slope of his shoulders and rigid posture as something his son had inherited. Yes, Jungkook was very much his father but managed to surpass him at a young age in just about every aspect. Even the love of his people. For that, it was said the king would always despise him but the real reason lay in the portrait he spoke to. No one knew much about the late Queen only that she was effortlessly beautiful and seeing her portrait YN couldn’t agree more. She held a softness to her that contrasted greatly with her husband and son, though if YN looked deeper she could see Jungkook had parts of her too.

Jeon muttered to himself once more and it dawned on YN that he was speaking to the portrait. "You're right my love. If I do it the people will turn against me, but if we blame the Kim girl…" YN's eyes widened, she stepped back, her back hitting the stone wall behind her. At that moment, Jeon freezes as if aware he's being watched. "Come out." The king speaks lowly, all the anguish has gone from his voice. In a split second, he draws a dagger from his clothes and sends it hurtling toward its target. But instead of the mirror, it is the door. YN doesn't waste the opportunity and flees once more.  

"Mistress Eun was found dead last night. Similar attack to the one that occurred to the princess, Miss YN is nowhere to be found." Baekhyung announces loudly, his back bent at a ninety-degree angle to not offend the crown prince. Jungkooks nods, wiping his hands free of blood before returning to the book on his desk. Baekhyung grimaces slightly at the sight before him, knowing it’ll be him cleaning up the mess as the maids won’t go near the body. “Make sure to find her Baekhyung and bring her back to me.” Jungkook picks up the book leaning back in his chair, the title ‘Golden Ones’ had always drawn the guards attention but he knew to ponder any further would get him killed.

           “What is the official story, your highness?”

           Jungkook cast one final glance at Kangjoon’s corpse, it was a bloody mess with the heart ripped out and blood still oozing. The prince would have to replace his favorite carpet. “The king was so upset with having his hand forced about the Seo matter that he lost it and killed their last male heir. What a tragedy.” Baekhyung nods, before tilting his head towards Jinyoung who sighed under his breath and helped him carry the body out.

By the time YN had managed to escape dawn had broken and the sky was a pleasant mix of oranges, pinks, and purples all blended. Perhaps it had been the fact that YN had remained surrounded by darkness all night, that it had been so long since she had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin and the beauty of nature surrounding her that caused YN to stop. Vito was still asleep, YN felt exhaustion spread throughout her body. She began to sway from one side to the next and knew it wouldn’t be long until she collapsed. YN forced herself to continue forward, attempting to reach the edge of the forest before anyone caught her. The more distance she traveled the farther away the forest seemed. YN wasn’t sure if her perception was muddled or there was something else at play here.

It wouldn't matter anyway for the prince's guard hounds were on her tail. "You there! What do you think you're doing?!" YN let out a sigh of frustration. Every damn time. YN watched a large man with dark hair and thick eyebrows approach her, a bit of tension leaving her body when she realized he must have been a regular guard and not part of the knighthood. “I’m sorry, I was visiting my sister in the servant’s quarters when I got lost.” YN couldn’t think of anything more convincing but figured something complex wouldn’t work well in her case. The guard’s eyes narrowed, “As if I’m going to believe that. You look like a common whore, probably hoping to snag some nobleman, huh?”

The guard gripped her tightly pulling her close so that their bodies were touching. Almost instantaneously, the man fell to his knees back twisting painfully as he groaned out in pain. “I would refrain from touching what isn’t yours.” YN recognized the voice and turned around to see Jinyoung accompanied by another man dressed in similar attire. “The prince wouldn’t appreciate knowing some lowlife dirtied his favorite toy.” YN’s face scrunched up in disgust at Jinyoung’s words, she began to wonder whether she could escape the men but it seems they were onto her.

“Miss YN, the prince has been searching for you all night. He requests your presence.” The shorter one spoke, YN raised her eyebrow at him but he simply smiled. “Kim Baekhyung, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” YN ignored him, “You can tell the prince that I dissent his request.” Jinyoung smiled, “Ah, I forgot to mention the prince never did say we had to bring you back in one piece.”

    “Oh, how you always manage to surprise me, darling.” Jungkook’s smug smile was far too large for YN’s liking. She’d been brought to his chambers against her will and judging from the glint in his eyes, he had something planned. “I’m happy to see you’ve taken a liking to Vito.” He eyed the snake draped across her décolletagle. YN crossed her arms over her chest as Vito slithered down her body towards Morte’s resting bed, desiring to be with the other snake. “Look their friends.” Jungkook seemed too enthusiastic to YN which was the exact opposite of what he normally was.

“Morte could eat him alive.”

“That’s what makes it fun.”

Jungkook turned his attention back to YN, noticing the state of distress of her gown before his eyes crawled back to her. “So tell me,” Jungkook leaned back onto the settee tilting his head slightly. “How did you escape?” If Jungkook knew about YN’s discovery then she’d be screwed. Though YN was beginning to pierce through the enigma that was Jeon Jungkook, she could never be sure whether she had managed to evade his game or play right into it. “Your fiance tried to murder me.” Jungkook shrugged, “I expected as much. Lions are volatile creatures, hot-headed too, best not to mess with them.” YN rolled her eyes, “The only reason Soojin attacked me was because of you. Shouldn’t it be you facing the actions of your consequences?!”

“You would blame a man in love?”

YN scoffed, “This isn’t love, it’s nothing but a game to you.”

“You’re wrong. It’s a love game.” Jungkook smirked, enjoying intensely how YN’s brows furrowed in frustration.

“What did you call me in for, your highness?”

Jungkook stood up abruptly, YN's stepped back a few feet in trepidation, something that the twisted prince enjoyed. He lifts his hand and brushes YN's lower lip delicately, "I wanted to tell you to switch your m.o. Strangulation is far too noticeable. I'd hate for you to draw unwanted attention." Slowly he circled YN letting his hand trail above her torso. "It was an accident, I didn't want to hurt her." Jungkook chuckled, arms wrapping tightly around YN's waist. "Who, darling?" His lips brushed the long arch of her neck, his arms tightening every second that passed by. "Soojin or Eun? Which one was an accident?" YN cast her eyes downward focusing on the snakes noticing how Morte had wrapped around Vito and was embracing him, or was it the other way around?

"You made me do it." YN struggled to get the words out, all she could see was Eun's dead body. All she could remember was the feeling of wringing her throat out until nothing remained. Jungkook gripped her chin, "Did I make you do it? Or did I permit you?" When they kissed it was tender so opposed to how the prince usually was. Jungkook was holding her as if afraid she would break. The kiss immediately distracted YN and she couldn't help but give in to it, just to escape the darkness in her mind. That is until a bitter tang filled her mouth and went down her throat. YN pushed away from Jungkook, spitting out his blood from her mouth.

Jungkook smiles sadistically, his tongue swiping across his lips to clean any remnants of blood. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" YN screams wiping her mouth in utter disgust. The man in question rolls his eyes as if the answer was oh so obvious. "I love you that's what." YN knew it was never good to reveal a trump card as it may come in handy later on, but she would have given anything at that moment to knock Jeon Jungkook down a peg or two.

“Your father is plotting to murder you.”

Instantly, Jungkook's face crumbled, his eyes widening in shock as he numbly asked, "What?" He looked so much like a lost child and YN felt regret pool at her stomach until his expression changed to one of rage. In the blink of an eye, Jungkook stood in front of YN, hand wrapping tightly around her neck as he lifted her from the ground. "What did you say?" YN struggles against his hold, her hands clawing at his to get him to let go. The only did he did was place her back on the ground, but his clasp remained.

“I saw him speaking to a portrait of a woman. He was going on and one about how you were a murderer from a young age and a threat he had to put a stop to.”

The pupil had all but consumed the iris in Jungkook’s eyes allowing YN to see herself perfectly reflected in them. “I don’t fucking believe you,” Jungkook screamed though there was a hint of pain towards the end that YN latched onto. “I swear it’s the truth!” She searched her mind for anything, any detail, that could convince the distrustful man that what she was saying was the truth. YN was beginning to feel dizzy as if she could pass out at any second, finally, she remembered. “S-she had your eyes.” Jungkook’s eyes filled with unshed tears as he let go of YN, letting her crumble to the ground. YN wheezed as she tried to regain her lost breath, well aware of the glare the prince had fixed on her.

“And how exactly were you in the king’s private study?”

In her disoriented state, the words slipped right out. “I saw it through a mirror.”

A moment passed before Jungkook smiled once more, a small ‘Ah’ leaving his lips. “You found the corridors. That’s how you escaped.” He crouched down in front of YN, “Though I doubt you’re aware of all of them, so you must’ve stumbled upon the one behind the tapestry.” Jungkook reached out patting down YN’s frazzled hair and tugging one side of it behind her ear. “Don’t worry I’ll have it sealed soon enough.” YN shoves his hand away, climbing to her feet. “I should have never told you.” Jungkook nods, “If it weren’t for your kindness you might have had me off your hands.”

He went to continue speaking but suddenly paused as if something had just occurred to him. “Why did you tell me?”

“He was going to pin it on me.”

A pause, then. “You aren’t as selfless as you think you are.”

News traveled fast of the wedding meant to bind the Seo’s and Jeon’s, while Jungkook had yet to mention it to YN there were too many outside forces for him to be able to avoid going through with it. Something which caused her great satisfaction. Though it was a cloudy day, YN found she enjoyed being outside nonetheless. Sana was currently by her side enjoying how the king’s many hunting dogs pranced around the garden. They were in the balcony near the throne room, YN was once again dressed in the finest garbs money could buy - Sana having forced her into them.

“Don’t worry, Mistress. I’m sure everything will be fine.” Sana reached out, squeezing YN’s shoulder comfortingly.

YN had told Sana everything one night after having one too many cups of wine and being cared for by the maid during her bath. Sana had assured YN that as much as the prince desired to wed her, as long as she was a peasant it wouldn’t be allowed. She wasn’t too certain that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to find a loophole, but it pacified her nerves. Not to mention her prompt meeting with the king had caused more rumors to surround her. Even while she was certain it was just Sana and her, YN could feel eyes piercing through her.

“Miss Kim?”

YN turned around to see Baekhyung bowing before her, instantly YN knew something was wrong. “They’re ready for you.”

When YN stepped foot inside the room it was filled with nobility, hushed whispers of incredulity falling from their mouth. Sitting perched upon the throne with a crown resting upon his perfectly styled hair was the prince of everything, Jeon Jungkook himself. No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t have…

“Unfortunately, my father is ill and won’t be able to attend any of his royal duties today, so I shall do it in his place,” Jungkook announced to the crowd of people, the second he spoke a deadly silence weighed over the room. Whether it was out of fear or respect was yet to be deciphered. Jungkook fixed his stare on YN and she could swear the prince blinked at her, but it was to quick to tell. "As most of you are aware by now, Mistress Eun has suddenly passed due to her misuse of substances. This has caused her land and title to have been lost." Jungkook wasn't just speaking to YN, but everyone.

“Due to her lands needing to be tended for and properties managed, someone needs to step forward to claim.” His dark eyes fixed on YN, “I hereby name Miss YN Kim and her heir’s sole proprietor of Eun’s lands and assets. Thereby granting her the title of Lady.” YN stilled in fear, but aware of the eyes on her she bowed deeply. “Thank you, your royal highness.” She spoke through gritted teeth. Once again Jeon Jungkook had won.

 “A Kim?!”

“The king must be really out of his mind.”

“Another Kim in court? Isn’t one enough?”

“Everyone knows the real reason she received them. Has she no shame?!”

 “Lady Kim,” YN turned around to see the crown of someone’s head, the ashy blonde hair all too familiar. It’s him. The man who had found Eun’s body and helped her escape. But why? The man rose from his bow, YN being able to see the deadly look in his eye. “Lord Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” YN’s eyes widened, but Namjoon remained unaffected. Taking her hand into his and placing a small kiss over the knuckles. Though Jungkook was nowhere in sight, YN was certain she could feel him gauging her. If Jungkook knew it was Namjoon who aided her escape, heads would roll. Best to pretend then, it seems that is what Namjoon desired to do as well.

“Pleasure is mine, my lord. I was unaware there was another Kim in court.”

Namjoon smirked, “It’s not necessarily something the King would so openly acknowledge.” He tilted his head away from the crowd, signaling her to follow him. As they walked YN could hear more hushed gossip surrounding her, but most of it came from faceless individuals - no one of importance. “You’ve managed to cause quite a stir in your short time here, my lady.”

“It wasn’t my intention to do so.”

“Still I am not surprised, a woman as beautiful as yourself is bound to cause a ruckus anywhere.”

YN blushed, “You toy with me, my lord.”

Namjoon smirked, a wicked gleam in his eye that said he was. “I would never dare.”

           They stopped moving and YN realized Namjoon had maneuvered her away from the crowd, still close enough that they were in the room, but too far away for anyone to hear what was being discussed. YN longed to know why he’d helped her but figured that it hadn’t been done altruistically. The young lord stepped forward, “If I were to be so bold as to offer a word of advice, my lady?” A chill went down YN’s spine and her hand tightened into a fist, wishing Vito was there with her. “You’ve been so bold already,” YN cast her eyes around the room seeing Sana standing by the door speaking to Jinyoung. Her brow furrowed as the two seemed to be in a heated discussion. “I don’t see what harm a bit more could do.” She turned back to Namjoon who seems to have followed her line of sight.

           “Are you familiar with your family’s history?”

           “I have no family.”

           “You are a Kim are you not?”

           “It is only a name.”

           Namjoon chuckles, “Ah, but what’s in a name?” Once again the lord stepped closer, “May I recommend the story of Soo and So? I think you’ll find it quite an intriguing read.”

“As much as I’d like to, my lord, I own no such story or book. I’d doubt the king is stocked up on history books that do not relate to him.”

“Ah, that is true. What a shame indeed.”

Sana trailed behind her quietly, something YN found quite odd as the girl tended to be incredibly lively. Perhaps Sana pitied her given the circumstance, but that couldn’t be it. The girl had previously stated how much more she enjoyed being YN’s personal maid than having to run around the castle. Maybe she’s tired? Or maybe it had something to do with her conversation with Jinyoung - YN's guard dog. Before they reached the door leading to YN's bedroom Sana suddenly halted. "I'm sorry mistress, but if I could be excused? I'm not feeling all too well." YN was a bit shocked but nodded nonetheless. She was about to ask Sana if there was anything she could do to help, but the maid had already runoff.

YN sighed, unlocking the door to her bedroom. When she entered she noticed Vito was feasting on his latest meal, so YN shed her dress and headed straight for bed. Hoping to catch some sleep before dinner was delivered, her actions stopped when she noted the gift placed on her bed. It was nicely wrapped in fine silk with a ribbon on top, peeling back the layers YN found it was a book. When she opened it, a note fell out:

I could only find the abridged version, apologies - KNJ

YN’s hands ran through the spine and bold lettering at the front, the words ‘Golden Ones’ peering back at her in a metallic red.

Jeon Jungkook had just finished his bath when his peace was once again disturbed by the rasping of knuckles on his door. He groaned asking who it was as he imagined harming whoever deemed themselves important enough to intrude on his time. Imagine the surprise on the young prince’s face when none other than his lover appeared. “Well, to what do I owe this surprise?” YN stood hesitantly by the door consciously trying to convince herself not to back out of the plan. If he was annoyed at her silence he didn’t say anything instead Jungkook tilted his head and asked, “What game are you playing?”

YN stepped into the room, closing the door behind her careful not to turn around. Jungkook was like a predator - eye contact was essential for survival. YN’s eyes danced around the room not finding Morte anywhere in sight. “I’ve decided to not play any games. I know I’ll never beat you.”

Jungkook smirks, eyeing YN's figure up and down. "Well then, this may be the most fun game we've ever played."

YN ambled towards Jungkook, their eyes remaining on each other. Waiting for the moment the other faltered to strike.

“Where’s your pet, my lady?”

“In my bedroom, your highness. He is shedding.”

“Where’s Morte?”

“Where she needs to be.”

As they neared each other Jungkook took a seat at the edge of his bed, encouraging YN to join him. YN straddled Jungkook, trying to calm her racing heart from giving her away. “What am I to you?” Her eyes were wide and honest, as she asked. It had been foolish to think the answer would change.

“My Queen.”

It was the intensity of the prince’s stare that caused YN to look away, her eyes landed on a glass and gold chessboard. “I’ve never been a good player.”

Jungkook chuckled, eyes-rolling. “I doubt that’s true.” His warm breath fanned her neck causing goose-bumps to rise.

“Isn’t the king the most vulnerable of them all?”

Jungkook nods, letting his lips brush against hers trying to draw her attention back onto him. “Which is why he needs a powerful queen.”

YN chuckled, parting her lips and allowing the venom laced words to hit their target. “Good thing, Soojin will be your queen.”

The prince visibly tenses, his hand coming to grip YN’s waist tightly. He forces her to look at him as his eyes filled with a heady mix of lust and rage. “That’s a dangerous game you're playing, love.”

YN shrugs, “I’m not playing a game. I’m only trying to prove a point.”

“Oh?” Jungkook uses his grip on YN’s waist to push them closer together, leaving only centimeters between the star-crossed lovers.

“What you feel or think you feel is not love. It’s infatuation fueled by lust.” YN allowed her lips to brush Jungkook’s, though they never fully kissed. “I’m just a shiny new toy you want to play with until you get bored.”

"I will never tire of you YN, you can be certain of that." Jungkook's tongue swiped across his lips to moisten them. "Though if you are so certain, let's have a wager." Jungkook released his hold on her waist allowing YN to move away. Now that they stood feet apart, it felt as if this was a serious affair. "If what I feel for you is nothing more than infatuation, I promise to let you go." He lifted his palm as if taking an oath.

YN scoffed, “No. If I am right, then you will marry Soojin and make her your queen.” She wasn’t going to fall for his schemes any longer. Jungkook nodded, leaning back to rest on his elbows. When he failed to speak any further YN’s eyes narrowed, “Declare your wager.”

“I think I’ll save mine for later. Makes things more interesting don’t you agree?” Jungkook looked all too pleased with himself, the prince thought everything was under his control. But, just as YN often underestimated him, it seems he had now underestimated her. “So, what’s your big plan to prove your point?”

“Sleep with me.”

[tri-point-bruiser]

💅 🔁

A nice sparkly red (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) please

💅  : your  muse  paints  my  muse’s  nails . 🔁  ’   to  reverse  the  roles . 

[❥   𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 Submissions Closed]

Raphael wasn’t sure how he got roped into something like this. A sleep over. At first he was confused but then after Ari explained, he was even more confused. Why couldn’t they just hang out, she could sleep over if she wanted, but she made it clear that this was something specific and special. There were rules to be followed and in the end his curiosity had won out.

First there had to be snacks, lots of snacks, tons of junkfood. Then they had to have some bad movies to watch. Ari had mentioned horror was the go to, but any bad movie would do. She said something about make overs that had Raphael just staring at her for a while, and party games, which those sounded fun. 

They had of course ordered pizza and had that while watching some movies and eating way more junk food than was probably healthy. Ari had insisted they wear pajamas, something Raphal had found hilarious and it had taken him some time to find something suitable, but it was so worth it to see her dressed all cute like that. Though it was a little more than just cute and he wondered if that was on purpose or not. 

Normal sleep over games didn’t really work for just two people, they played a round of never have I ever, that got a little interesting, and they did a few rounds of secrets and questions, followed by two truths and a lie, but were saving truth or dare for later. 

Raphael  was laughing, hard, at Ari lamenting over his lack of hair, how was she supposed to give him a crazy hair style if he didn’t have any hair. It was a conundrum and Raph was enjoying her small moment of frustration. Of course that didn’t stop her from giving him a full face make over with some of the most loud make up he had ever seen. 

Looking at himself in the small mirror he couldn’t decide if he liked it or loathed it. On one hand, he kinda looked good, on the other hand, he looked a little bit like a clown. Maybe it was his skin tone making it difficult. Perhaps in the future he might let her try again with a different color palette, see what other looks they could come up with. 

Of course she had to paint his nails which was easy considering he only had six of them, and they were huge. Raph sat patiently through it all and had the biggest grin when she was done and his nails were dry.

“A’ight pip squeak, now it’s yer turn!” 

Raphael had no experience with applying make up, but he was damned well doing to do his best to make sure it looked as good as possible. “Lets start with the nails, then yer face.”

Ari scooted over and handed him a bottle of sparkly glittery red polish. It was pretty close to the color of his bandana and had iridescent flecks of glitter in it. “Nice choice.” He smirked as he gently held her hand in his and oh so carefully leaned in to get a better view. He was working with a tiny brush and she had tiny hands. This was going to be harder than he thought. 

Ever so gently Raph began to paint her nails, focusing hard, concentrating on not making a mess. Years of training kept his hand steady, but he wasn’t an artist like his brother and so he struggled a bit. The first coat went on well, but was a tiny bit messy. Thankfully Ari was helpful and gave him some tips on how he could easily clean up mistakes.

It took a while, a long while, for him to paint her nails. Carefully coating each nail, letting the coat dry and repeating. Raph had never held anyone’s hands for this long and he was starting to feel a little warm. His eyes kept darting to her and how cute she looked. He had the oddest urge to lean in and kiss her, but resisted that urge. 

Finally, after what felt like eons, the final coat was applied and on it’s way to being dry. Raph put the nail polish away along with everything else they had been using. “So face make up now, or somethin else?”

“Lets skip the make up for now, I imagine your hands are cramping after all of that. We could watch another movie? Or play another game. Once my nails are fully dry, I would hate to ruin them, you caught on fast and honestly they look great.” Ari admired her sparkly red nails for a bit, she really did love them.

“A’ight, how about truth or dare? Could be fun and a distraction it would let yer nails dry.” Raph had the look of perfect innocence on his face. 

“Ok, that could be fun, who goes first?”

“I will, truth or dare?” Raph chuckled. “I mean we both know yer gonna pick truth the whole time, but I just figured I would give the dare option anyway.”

Ari scoffed at the assumption. “I will not! You know what, fine, dare!”

Raph looked at her, with all seriousness in his expression. “Kiss me.”

[starryviolentine]

Camp Paya (A Pre-Apocalypse Story): Chapter 5/?

Part three of the “Pre-Apocalypse Adventures” Series

Chapter 1 (here)     Chapter 2 (here)     Chapter 3 (here)     Chapter 4 (here)

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that when Minerva claims not one, but two additional seats at their lunch table, it means that someone other than Minerva’s sister will be joining them as well. Being around too many strangers makes Violet uneasy, so the extra spot does make her a teensy bit nervous, but she puts on a brave face and tries to convince herself that everything’s going to be fine. It’s only one more person. And, surely, a group of four can’t possibly be any worse than a group of three, right?

Wrong.

The entire universe must have something against Violet specifically because, out of all the hundred-plus kids at camp this summer that Minerva’s sister could have become friends with, it turns out to be Brody. The sight of the auburn-haired girl bouncing over to their table comes as such an unexpected shock that it renders Violet frozen in her seat, unable to do anything other than gawk like a complete idiot. Brody, who looks just as surprised to see Violet, comes to a clumsy halt next to Minerva, mouth falling open ever so slightly. For a few seconds that last an eternity, the quarreling friends stare at each other in silence.

But then—and it happens so quickly that if Violet blinked, she would’ve missed it—Brody gives her the tiniest smile and a hesitant wave. Letting out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, Violet starts to relax. Brody doesn’t seem to be mad anymore. Maybe something good will come from this lunch arrangement after all. Violet’s fingers subconsciously move to the blue lizard keychain near her pocket as the gears in her head start whirring. 

Hey, Brody, so I know you like arts and crafts and stuff, and, well, yesterday, Minerva showed me how me how to make these really cool little lizard things and I thought maybe you’d like them, too, so I made—

Another Minerva arrives at the table, dropping her heavy bag onto the bench and letting out a weary sigh. The loud thump breaks Violet from her thoughts and causes her to look up. “Thanks for saving us a spot. Joey knocked a whole stack of goopy paint palettes off the counter right as the bell rang and it took forever to clean up.” 

“Did you guys finish the banner?” Minerva asks.

“Almost! I think we’ll be done by tomorrow,” answers the other Minerva.

Wait, what? 

Violet does a double-take and looks back and forth between the red-headed doppelgangers, clearly having trouble processing all of this. Brody, picking up on her friend’s complete and utter confusion, covers her mouth with her hands to stifle her giggles. 

The Minerva to Violet’s right, who also seems to find her reaction highly amusing, gestures towards her clone with a shake of her thumb. “Violet, this is my sister, Sophie.”

Sophie. Not Minerva. Sister. Sophie... and Minerva… Sophie and Minerva. Sisters... Twin sisters. Feeling somewhat dazed, Violet blinks at Not Minerva across the table. “Sophie…?”

Giggling, Sophie nods and waves. But then, as though she’s just had some sort of huge revelation, she gasps and points. “Wait, Violet? You’re Violet? As in…” She turns to Brody, who fervently nods her head up and down. “Yeah, Brody’s told me about you!”

“Oh yeah! Here.” Unclipping one of the lizards from her shorts, Minerva slides it over to her sister. “That’ll be five bucks.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Sophie takes the trinket and smiles. “Thanks.”

A window of opportunity has arrived and Violet knows that she needs to take it. If she presents her gift right now, after Minerva, it won’t seem so out of the blue... and it will be less embarrassing since she won’t be the only one. All she has to do is go for it. Violet’s heart starts to flutter in her chest, but she’s not chickening out or anything. She just... needs a minute to prepare. 

“Oh, Minnie, that’s so cute!” Brody gushes, as expected. But Violet hadn’t been expecting what happens next. Standing up right where she is, Brody proudly shows off a lanyard keychain—one made out of glittery magenta and indigo plastic lacing woven in a checkerboard pattern—attached to the zipper of her fanny pack. “Look what Sophie made me yesterday!”

The tiny sliver of confidence Violet had in her own keychain drops to the very pit of her stomach and shatters into a million jagged shards. She’s too late. There’s no way she can give hers to Brody now without it seeming like a stupid, copycat afterthought. 

“I really wanna learn how to make those beaded ones, though,” Brody says, once again looking at Sophie’s red lizard longingly. 

“I can teach you. It’s really easy,” offers Minerva, wearing a self-assured smile. “I taught Violet how to make one this morning. Show them the one you made, Violet!”

Even though the only thing Violet wants to do right now is disappear, everyone turns to look at her expectantly. Minerva and Sophie, and Brody, with her stupid blue eyes the same stupid shade of blue as the beads on her stupid lizard. It’s all so stupid. The fact that Violet thought that maybe Brody had been just as bored and miserable as she was yesterday, or that maybe Brody missed her is now, in retrospect, laughable and just sad. No. Apparently, Brody had been doing arts and crafts with her new friend, merry as can be.

Then it hits her. Violet realizes that her best friend is going to be just fine at camp, with or without her. Brody doesn’t need her to have fun. Not like Violet needs Brody. And that’s the stupidest part of all. A raw, volatile mixture of rage and self-loathing overcomes Violet. Breath growing ragged, she grips her lizard keychain in her fist, yanking so hard that the string snaps and all the hard work she put into making is wasted in an instant. Blue beads clatter to the floor as everything starts to come undone. 

Everything.

The pressure from the three pairs of eyes on her weighs so heavily on Violet that she feels as though she’s suffocating. And there’s only one way to escape. 

Violet runs. 

With blurry vision and a heaving chest, Violet eventually finds herself bursting through the doors of Cabin Four, pacing the floors for a moment before letting out a strangled scream. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror and she storms over, glaring icily at the girl staring back at her. Stupid. Ripping the offending purple cap from her head, Violet flings it across the room and takes a good look at herself. Messy hair. Strands in her face. Blotchy skin around her eyes. Nose so red she could give Rudolph a run for his money. Violet resists the urge to smash something hard into the glass. 

Windswept blonde locks partially obscure her vision and she angrily swats them away, but the unkempt strands keep falling back into her line of sight, sending Violet into an irrational fit of rage. As the girl huffs and claws at her hair, desperately trying to get it out of the way, as though to spite her, her fingers repeatedly get caught in the tangles and it pinches her scalp. The same sensation as when she’s in a rush to get ready in the morning and brushes her hair a bit too roughly, yanking the bristles through the knots in order to get out the door as quickly as possible.

Of course, somebody always chastises her and tells her that she has to be more gentle. That her hair is so pretty and long and perfect for a ballerina bun, and if she brushes it too hard, she might get split ends. The joke’s on Brody, though, because Violet already has split ends. And guess what? She doesn’t give a damn! 

Something shiny and metal inside the nearby pencil cup catches Violet’s eyes and, before she knows it, she grabs in her right hand, holding a fistful of hair in the other. This will show Brody! Maybe next time she’ll stop and think before giving any more unsolicited advice. The scissors are duller than Violet expected, so it takes a bit of effort for her to hack all the way through, but the sheer satisfaction she feels after that final snip! is like nothing she’s ever felt before. Violet can hardly believe how liberating this feels. It’s incredible! It’s—

Immediately dropping the scissors, Violet stumbles a few steps away from the mirror as the reality of what she’s done slowly sinks in. Carefully unclenching her fist to inspect the damage, Violet watches in horror as several blonde strands float to the floor. The sight of the sad, lifeless bundle of hair in her palm makes her feel queasy. Her heart lodges itself deep in her throat and she panics, eyes darting from her hand to the pathetic girl in the mirror. Nearly half a foot of hair is missing from one side of her head, and it’s nothing at all like the time she got a wad of bubblegum stuck in her hair and her grandmother had to cut it out for her. Violet was seven, and she was terrified that she was going to end up with an enormous bald spot and that everyone at school would make fun of her. But Grandma had been really careful with the scissors, and in the end it wasn’t noticeable at all.   

But this time, it’s extremely noticeable. 

She’s ugly. Ruined.

Breathing as jagged and uneven as her new haircut, Violet attempts to flee the cabin, hoping to disappear into the woods, perhaps to never return again. Just when she figures that she’s already hit rock bottom and things couldn’t possibly get any worse, Violet slams into somebody in the doorway. Ouch. She really needs to stop doing that. 

“What in the ever-living fuck, V?” 

Of course it would be Therissa. Of course. The one person besides Brody that Violet had been hoping wouldn’t see her like this. 

The teenager gives an annoyed grunt, about to go off into a rant about Violet not watching where she’s going, but she quickly picks up on the fact that something isn’t right. Her roomie looks like she’s gone on a round trip to hell and back and it’s only noon. And where did that hay come from? Violet doesn’t seem like the type to willingly hang out by the stables, but— 

“Wait, is that hair?” More confused than ever, Therissa tries to piece everything together. Yeah, it’s definitely hair. Human hair. Making the connection, the teen looks up and immediately notices Violet’s new haircut. Oh, shit. Not wanting the situation to escalate, Therissa suppresses her shock and the billion questions that follow and tries to be as calm as possible. “Huh, I didn’t know that ‘beauty salon’ was on the list of camp activities this year.” As she steps a bit closer to Violet, Therissa makes sure to keep herself right in the middle of the doorway, turning her body into a barricade to keep the younger girl from running away. This is a delicate situation, and Therissa knows that she needs to handle it with caution. Once completely inside the cabin, she quietly pulls the door closed behind them. “I do like the direction you were going. Very bold. But it doesn’t look finished, know what I mean?” 

Violet keeps quiet and won’t meet Therissa’s eyes, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s actively looking for an alternate escape route. Holding her breath, the older girl takes a chance and gently reaches out to touch her roommate’s hair on the freshly cut side. Thankfully, Violet lets her. Combing her fingers through it a couple of times, Therissa gives a low hum. “I think I might be able to help you straighten things out a bit, if that’s cool with you?”

Walking further inside the cabin, Therissa comes across the scene of the crime. On the floor near the vanity are an old pair of scissors and even more of Violet’s hair. The older girl sits Violet in the wooden chair in front of the mirror and momentarily leaves to grab her hairbrush, picking up the scissors on the way back. After spending a minute detangling Violet’s hair and brushing it out for her, Therissa looks in the mirror with her roommate. “You do understand I’m gonna have to cut it, like, here, right?” 

Violet looks at the hand that Therissa’s using to mark exactly how many inches of hair she’s about to chop off and nods in defeat. She lets out a shaky sigh and speaks for the first time since the mess hall. “Just… don’t make it shorter than you have to. Please.”

Therissa giving her a thumbs-up in the mirror reflection is the last thing Violet sees before she squeezes her eyes shut. There’s no way she’s watching this. She doesn’t want to see anything until it’s all over. 

Probably not even then.

[perspective-series]

Pet Perspective (10/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: talk of old owners, bad past experiences (being treated like a toy/pet), bit of possessive Virgil

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

————————————————————————————–

“C’mon, Specs!” Roman eagerly stood up, grabbing Logan’s arm and practically yanking the poor borrower into Patton’s hand.

“Gah! What about the carrier?” Logan protested, struggling to keep up with Roman’s incessant pulling.

 “Whoops, almost forgot. Sorry, Logan. Did you still want to travel in it?” Patton asked, feeling a little bad.

Logan gave a glare to his fellow borrower, pulling his arm back. “This mode of transportation will be satisfactory, but I did not want you to neglect it and leave it behind. Furthermore, it should be my own decision to consent.”

“What are you looking at me for?” Roman pretended to be oblivious.

 “I won’t forget it.” Patton said, standing up and packing up the blanket with one hand. He then shoved the carrier in the backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. “And Roman, apologize.”

“I have done nothing wrong.” Roman crossed his arms. “And you’re not my human.” He didn’t have a human. Not one he would listen to, at least.

 “I know I’m not but it’s still nice to apologize. You clearly hurt Logan’s feelings, kiddo.” Patton tried as he began to walk to the nearest ice cream shop.

“I would not waste your breath.” Logan said to Patton. “It’s clear this is just another act to demonstrate Roman’s lack of maturity.”

“Are you calling me a child?” Roman gasped, offended. 

“I was not, but I was implying you have the mental capacity of one.” Logan corrected.

 “Logan, that isn’t very nice either.” Patton said. “Now I think you might need to apologize too.”

“Why? ‘Nice’ is merely relative.” Logan shrugged. “I have said nothing incorrect.” 

“Maybe I think it’s nice to push you off, then.” Roman pretended to jerk forwards, smirking when Logan flinched and hurriedly grabbed Patton’s finger for support.

 “Roman! That’s it, in the pocket with you.” Patton split them into different hands before placing Roman in his chest pocket.

“Hey!” Roman protested, smart enough not to struggle too much as he was transferred. “No fair, I didn’t even touch him!”

 “Maybe not, but that was very dangerous. You still could have caused him to fall.” Patton turned the corner, seeing the shop. “You can come out if you apologize.”

“...I accept my fate.” Roman muttered, sinking into the pocket. Little did Patton realize that this was far more comfortable than a palm, and Roman didn’t have to share.

 “Alright but then no ice cream.” Patton warned, already walking into the shop with a slight jingle from the door.

...

Slowly, a little bit of hair poked out of Patton’s pocket, followed by a pair of grumbling eyes. Something was said that was completely muted by the fabric.

“I beg your pardon?” Logan said, putting a hand to his ear. He was rather enjoying this.

“I’m sorry!” Roman repeated, louder before ducking back down.

“I do not believe your sincerity.” Logan called back.

 Patton hummed. “Logan’s right. You gotta say it like you mean it.” 

“You asked for an apology, not a sincere one.” Roman argued. “Besides, Logan didn’t apologize to me either, and he’s fine. You’re just playing favorites.”

 Patton bit his lip. “...Alright. I’ll get you ice cream.” Patton gave in. “But no more fighting, you two.” He walked up to the counter and looked over the options. “What do you guys want?”

“Ooh! Do they have chocolate strawberry?” Roman was out in an instant, crossing his arms and holding himself up by the lip of the pocket.

“I have no prior experience and therefore no preference.” Logan reminded Patton.

“The nerd wants vanilla, because he’s basic.” Roman teased.

“Do not speak for my interests.” Logan gave a huff.

 “Hmm...looks like they do! One borrower sized chocolate strawberry please. And here, Logan. You can look at all the flavors they have.” Patton held the borrower up to the glass to see.

Logan paused, trying to take in the vast display. He was very literate for a borrower, but given the fact he had only begun building up his tasting palette a few days ago Logan had no connotation what any of these labels could indicate. Logan could only navigate by sight alone, and the containers were all so colorful that frankly Logan wasn’t even sure half of these were food.

“I’ll have, ah, chocolate strawberry as well.” Logan fiddled with his shirt, trying not to be embarrassed and hoping his choice was adequate.

 “You heard the borrower! Two of those please and I’ll have a rocky road.” The girl nodded. Patton paid while she scooped up the ice cream. Patton took his cone and two small borrower sized cups and sat down at one of the tables. He set Logan down before fishing Roman out putting him down as well. 

 “Here you go!” Patton said as he handed the two ice creams to them. 

“Thank you, dearest pap-sicle.” Roman gave him a dazzling grin, carefully giving his portion a lick. “Mmm, delicious!”

“Gah!” Logan jumped, seeming startled as he took his own first hesitant lick. He hunched in on himself, embarrassed by the looks the other two sent his way. “...it’s cold.”

 Patton chuckled behind his hand. “Well, yeah, they don’t call it ice cream for nothing.” He took another lick of his own, shivering in delight.

“Oh.” Logan looked as if he had been struck by a revelation. “That seems sensible.”

 “Sooooooo...how do you like it then?” Patton asked, excited to hear what Logan thought.

Logan shivered, taking more cautious licks this time. It was sweet, in a pleasant and not overwhelming manner. “It is a strange phenomenon, but I do believe I enjoy it.”

 “He likes it!” Patton cheered.

“I would be ashamed if he didn’t.” Roman put a hand to his forehead as if pretending to faint. “What kind of monster loathes ice cream?”

“I am not a monster, regardless of my tastes.” Logan deadpanned.

 “I can confirm. Logan is not a monster.” Patton said cheerfully. “He’s as sweet as ice cream!”

“What?” Logan looked baffled. “Why do I have a flavor?”

 “It’s a metaphor Logan. I just meant you’re really sweet, like in general.” Patton explained, taking a few more licks of his melting ice cream.

Logan still looked baffled about flavors, but rather than explain it to him Roman just smirked into his own frozen treat.

 Patton finished off his cone and sat back, patting his stomach. “Man, that was so-” He was cut off by his phone ringing and he took it out to answer. “Y’ello?”

 “Patton, where are you? Where is Roman?!” Virgil yelled on the other end. Patton winced before his eyes went wide. 

 “Whoops! Sorry kiddo, should have texted you. We went out to the park and for some ice cream.” Patton explained and he heard Virgil sigh on the other end.

 “Oh, good. Sorry, I sorta overreacted there.”

 “Not a problem!” Patton grinned. “We’ll head back home now. We were just about done anyway.”

 “Oh, okay good. See you soon then.”

 “Bye!” Patton hung up and turned to the borrowers. “Ready to head back home?”

Roman gave a slight nod, but he was more distracted by the conversation he had just overheard. Virgil had sounded so panicked. Was that a good thing? It felt like a bad thing, because it meant Virgil was clingy and if he failed another escape attempt Roman would definitely be punished. But then again… well, in a strange sort of way, it was nice to hear someone care, even if Roman knew Virgil’s concern was more for his pet in general rather than Roman as an individual.

“Yes, I believe we are both finished.” Logan spoke up, collecting the empty containers to hand to Patton.

 Patton took them and threw them away. “Great! Pocket or carrier?” He asked, remembering to this time.

“Carrier.” “Pocket.”

Both borrowers fought the urge to roll their eyes again at their disagreement.

“The carrier with be fine.” Roman amended his vote.

 Patton nodded and took the carrier out, setting it down and waiting for both borrowers to climb on.

Logan climbed in first, watching as Roman sulked to the back. “...are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Roman lied, not wanting to discuss with a human nearby. Thankfully, Logan didn’t press any further.

 Patton lifted the carrier up and started walking. It only took ten minutes before he found himself back home, Virgil ready and waiting at the door. “There you are!” Virgil said, looking at Patton and then at Roman. 

 “Sorry again, Virge. I should have texted you.” Patton set the carrier down on the table.

 “It’s fine, just glad to know Roman is safe.” He opened the carrier and held out his hand. “Come on Roman.”

“Wow Virgil, keep talking like that and I might think you missed me.” Roman teased, climbing on.

 Virgil felt a heat rise to his cheeks. “Shut up.” He muttered. He nodded to Patton before heading back up to his room. He sat down at his desk but didn’t put Roman down yet.

“Now I’ve got you all flustered as well.” Roman practically cooed, holding up his pinky. “It’s like you’re wrapped around my little finger.”

 Virgil groaned, finally putting Roman down. “Whatever, so I was a little worried when I didn’t see you. You’re fine so everything is fine.”

“Why’d you panic so much, anyhow?” Roman asked, a bit of his actual curiosity creeping in. “Don’t you trust Patton?”

 “No, yeah, I do, I just…” He sighed. “He didn’t tell me he was going anywhere and I thought, maybe...but like I said, it’s fine. You’re here and safe.”

“C’mon, what’d you think?” Roman pressed, not letting Virgil drop it so easily.

 “I...I thought you might have escaped, okay!? But...But you promised, so of course I shouldn’t have been worried in the first place, right?” Virgil turned to Roman with a small but nervous smile.

...ah. “Right.” Roman gave him a smile in return, almost just as nervous but hiding it well. Was Virgil truly going to be so broken up if- no, when Roman did escape?

….did Roman even care?

 Virgil sighed in relief, his smile turning less nervous. “Good. That’s...good.” It looked like they were actually bonding, maybe? “So...did you want to do anything? I have another class a bit later but that’s a good two hours of free time.”

Another class. Virgil would be gone. And maybe Roman could make a break for it, if he was lucky. 

“Well, I don’t know.” Roman shrugged. “You’re the human, aren’t you supposed to make the plans? I’m just supposed to sit still and look pretty.”

 “I mean, I could but I...I want you to have more of a say on what we do. ‘M trying the Patton thing where I listen to you more. Seems to be working well for him.” Virgil chuckled. “And...I want you to be happy.”

Roman still found that so baffling. The idea that he could be happy here, no matter how gilded the cage, was simply impossible. Roman was made to be free, even if the world was determined to repeatedly rip that freedom away from him.

“I like board games.” Roman admitted, shifting slightly on his feet. “It’s been a while since I’ve played, but a few of my previous owners passed the time like that. I only like it when I play on my own team though, not- not as a piece.” Roman shuddered slightly in memory.

 Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. “They...they made you play as a piece?” What kind of person would do that?

Roman rubbed at his arm, self-conscious. “Yeah, some of them. The worst being the times I had to just hold still, and get manhandled across the board like a regular inanimate object. The times I’d walk to indicated squares weren’t so bad, but still humiliating.”

 “That’s...that’s horrible.” Virgil said. “I promise, I won’t ever make you do that.”

“Thanks.” Roman chuckled, but his heart wasn’t totally in it. After all, Virgil might get bored one day. Roman only had so many tricks.

 Virgil nodded. “What game did you want to play. I think we have monopoly, sorry, uno, etc.” The human listed.

“Oh, uno is fun!” Roman perked up, recognizing the name. “It’s also fairly easy given my...er, disadvantage.”

 Virgil chuckled. “Awesome. Wait, here, I’ll be right back.” The games were kept in the hall closest so Virgil went out to go and grab it.

Roman sat down, patiently waiting for Virgil to return. He could have made a run for it, but he didn’t. It would be such a small window of time, after all. No, Roman could be patient. He could do whatever it took.

 Virgil came back in and he was secretly happy to see Roman hadn’t even moved. “Found it.” He took the cards out of the box and started shuffling them. “Just making sure but you know all the rules?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, although there’s an additional rule when you play with me.” Roman spoke up.

 Virgil blinked. “Oh?”

“No cheating.” Roman gave him a slight glare. “I can’t hold all the cards so they’ll be on the table, face down. No peeking, and no grabbing the wrong cards if I ask for assistance, you cheeky emo devil.”

 Virgil held his hands up. “No cheating, got it.” He passed out the cards and set it up. “Alright, borrowers first.”

“I like that rule.” Roman grinned, lifting up his cards to peek at what he had. Satisfied, Roman dragged a red four over and placed it on the middle stack.

 Virgil hummed before placing a yellow 4 on top. “So, which owner did you play this with?”

Roman paused, placing his yellow seven up before he answered. He almost never spoke of his old owners, despite them often surfacing in his thoughts. “Rebekah.” Roman answered finally. “I mean, a few liked games, but she liked to, ah, play with me the most. She was ten when we met.”

 Virgil winced. “That’s...way too young to have a borrower.” In his personal opinion anyway. A child wasn’t meant to be around borrowers. “How...how long were you with her?” He asked, placing a yellow 5 down.

“Nearly a year.” Roman explained, tugging a green five up. “And I wasn’t Rebekah’s borrower, officially at least, though I might as well have been. She paid me the most attention. But that was… well, it was a family actually. George and Mary were her parents.”

 “Geez...I’m sorry.” Virgil said, not knowing what else to say. He put down a color changing card. “Blue.”

“How dare you.” Roman glared playfully at Virgil. “New rule, the borrower must win.”

 “Now that’s not a rule I will follow.” Virgil smirked. “If you don’t got any blue then you gotta draw a card.”

“Yes, I know how UNO works.” Roman huffed, dramatically stomping over to the pile looking a bit like a pouting child.

 Virgil chuckled as he waited to see how many cards Roman would have to draw.

Roman threw the three cards back to his hand, stubbornly placing a blue 3 onto the pile.

 Virgil smirked. “Hey, I don’t think you grabbed enough cards there.” He placed down a blue draw four.

Roman let out a loud groan, pointedly glaring at Virgil as he drew the four cards. “I loathe you.”

 “Aww, love ya too.” Virgil laughed. He put down a blue 7.

Roman went back, taking a few minutes to resort his expanded hand. He sorted by color, re-evaluating his haul.

“Rebekah wasn’t so bad.” Roman suddenly blurted, not sure why he felt the need to say it.

 Virgil blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Huh?” 

Roman cringed, hating himself for bringing this up and hating himself more for not stopping. “You asked once if I missed any of my old owners. I don’t. But there… it was better than the others, I suppose.”

Roman was quiet for a moment, giving his cards more attention than was strictly necessary. “Rebekah was too young for borrowers, but she was gentle for her age. It wasn’t so terrible. At least I came out sometimes, you know? And families- yeah, they’re kind of neat, even if it’s not your family but I don’t know, sometimes it’s nice to feel like you’re a part of something... even if you were never a part of it at all.” 

After all, the fact they had never come looking said enough about how much they cared when he left. 

 “Roman…” Virgil looked down, staring at his cards. “I know I said this already and it makes no difference but I’m sorry you were separated from your family. I’m...a little scared to ask about your other owners, if a ten year old was the best of them.”

Roman chuckled a bit darkly. “I meant the household. George and Mary were kind, in a human way. There was a dynamic between them that helped. Maybe it’s just that sensation of not being solely focused on entertaining one person. That’s mostly what happened with the others, sooner or later owners get bored of me.”

 “That’s stupid.” Virgil said, eyes hard. “You’re not a-a toy that people can just stop paying attention to. You deserve so much better than that!”

Roman blinked, shocked by Virgil’s outburst. “W-what?”

 Virgil felt heat rise to his cheeks for the second time. “I-I just...you do. You deserve so much better and I hope...I hope I’m doing a good job. And not making you feel like...like that. Like a toy.” Virgil looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

Roman paused, re-evaluating his feelings. Did Virgil make him feel like that? Certainly in the beginning, with all the manhandling and tossing and name-calling. Now… now Virgil was just making him feel like one very confused borrower.

“...draw four.” Roman deflected, placing a card on the pile.

 Virgil sighed, taking the cards. He looked down at them, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn’t quite sure what Roman’s deflection meant, but he could guess. “I’ll try to be better.” Virgil said, determined.

“I believe you.” Roman said, and for once he almost did believe it.

But then his collar jangled again, making a noise to remind him of his place in the world as he placed another card up.

 Virgil put another card of his down, biting his lip. “If...If Rebekah wasn’t so bad...then why did you still escape?” Virgil asked a bit hesitant but his curiosity won out.

“‘Wasn’t so bad’ isn’t exactly my ideal state of living.” Roman almost snorted. “I had a better thing going there, and sometimes with the others I wished I was back with her family instead, but I could never stay.” I was still a pet, after all. Roman thought to himself, just as I am here.

 “...Oh.” Virgil shifted through his cards. “You’ve uh...you’ve had quite the life, huh?” What with so many owners and escaping so much. And even being a wild borrower as a kid.

“You’re talking as though it’s already over.” Roman smiled, this time a bit more genuine as he took his turn. “I’m only 23, I’ve got plenty of adventures that await!”

 Virgil blinked. “Whoa, wait a second, you’re older than me?” Virgil looked Roman over but he just couldn’t see it.

“I am?” Roman looked mighty pleased with this revelation. “Why, how old are you, then?”

 Virgil pouted. “I just turned 22.” Virgil revealed. “Well, that’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” Roman shrugged. 

 Virgil looked down and smirked, his mood changing in an instant. “Oh, you can say that again.” He put down a card. “Uno.”

“What? Hey!” Roman’s face fell into a scowl, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention. He looked through his deck again, trying to find any cards that might stop Virgil from winning. “Cheater.”

 “Not a cheater, just a great uno player.” Virgil teased, chuckling.

“How dare you disrespect your elders like this, young man.” Roman growled, throwing up a green four and hoping for the best.

 Virgil rolled his eyes. “You aren’t that much older than me. And also…” Virgil put his last card down. “I win.” He grinned.

“Definitely cheating.” Roman crossed his arms, giving Virgil a good-natured smirk.

 Virgil chuckled before he glanced over at the clock. “Oh wow, that went by fast. I gotta head out here soon.” He started cleaning up their game, setting it off to the side. “Sorry to cut it short, maybe we can play some other games when I get back?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” Roman agreed. “Then I can put you little whippersnapper in your place.”

 “Okay, enough with the being older stuff, it’s already old.” Virgil said but he was smiling. “Alright, in the enclosure you go.”

“That joke’s not as old as me.” Roman retorted, waving him off as he walked into the borrower home without complaint.

 Virgil groaned. “Whatever. I got to go. See you in two hours!” Virgil called back before leaving the room.

Two hours. What was Roman going to do with all that time? Perhaps he could spend it reorganizing his closet, so that he actually knew what the heck he had thrown in there. Or he could…

Roman paused, a slow realization coming to him. He hadn’t heard that familiar click of the lock. Was he just imagining things? Could it really be that easy? Roman crept up to the door, almost hesitant as he put his hand on the handle.

It opened.

Roman gasped, peering out into the room. Was his luck really turning around? Surely Virgil wasn’t this dumb. He would be back any second now to lock the door… but no, as a few minutes ticked by Roman quickly realized he wouldn’t be coming back. Either Virgil had forgotten completely, or… he trusted him. It was a shame that Roman would have to break that trust, but it was Virgil’s loss, not his own. 

Rushing back into the mansion, Roman was quick to grab up the bag he prepared for just such an occasion. He dashed out onto the desk, grabbing a few spare office supplies he knew would come in handy. The Lamp still sat at the back of the desk, and Roman slid down the cord with ease.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Roman re-evaluated his plan. He’d have to be careful; after all, Patton was still home, this could go poorly. Roman snuck over to Virgil’s bedroom door, shimmying beneath it with a grunt and popping up the other side. He jogged down the hall, keeping an eye out for the other human, but it seemed Lady Luck really was on his side as Patton must have been cooped up in his room.

I’m nearly there! Roman felt adrenaline pumping through his veins as the front door came into his line of sight. He was tense, expecting any moment for Virgil to come back through and ruin everything. It would be bad enough to get caught again, but this close Roman was also in danger of being hit with the door itself.

By some miracle, the door stayed shut. This was even a tighter squeeze, but after several stressful minutes of scooting Roman sat up on the other side.

Roman blinked, putting his hand up to block out the sun. The sun. Though he had been outside only a few hours ago, this felt different because he was breathing the sweet scent of freedom. A grin broke out across Roman’s face, the borrower feeling his heart pounding in elation. This was how it was meant to be- no owners telling Roman what to do, no walls holding him in. Roman was a free man who could do what he wanted, and this time he planned to stay that way.

[cosmic-espero]

Code Lyoko Evolution: a review

OK SO NOW THAT I OFFICIALLY WATCHED THE ENTIRETY OF CODE LYOKO EVOLUTION, IT IS TIME FOR A COMPREHENSIVE REVIEW OF THIS PILE OF STEAMING, AMBIGUOUSLY HUMANOID FECES.

Because, good lord. I don't think they did one (1) thing properly, and I always thought there was only so much you coud get wrong- it wasn't even a movie, it was a series, so you had every possibility to make this if not good, decent. But they didn't.

Let's begin with a premise: I like Death Note, and obviously, I loathed the Netflix DN movie. But something that needs to be said in favour of said movie is that at least, they get a couple things right, or at least, the movie in itself is decent enough if you've never watched or read the original series and you just want to watch something for the hell of it. There is SOME quality to the special effects, acting and so on. The people who worked on it had no respect for the original, but they had some talent (money?) to make everything look at least vaguely okay. So, if you're not a fan, you can probably watch this movie and enjoy it. None of this can be said for Code Lyoko Evolution. First of all, because it's a sequel, set after the fourth season of the original, and therefore it's full (sorta) of concepts and characters someone needs to have some knowledge of to understand it, and watching it wirhout having seen the original series would do nothing but spoil the entirety of the GOOD parts of CL. Secondarily, because nearly everything about it is low budget and... bad.

For starters: the casting. Look, I don't want the actors to look 100% like the original... but I want them to be recognizable as the character they're portraying. This sentiment clearly wasn't shared by whoever chose the actors, and whoever was in charge of costumes. (Please, note that I wish the best to the actors; I don't hate them and I'm sure they're lovely people irl, but I would've never chose them had it been me in charge of it).

Aelita wears some weird pastel pseudo-scene outfit (not shown properly in the photo) that shouldn't even be allowed in a school and looks like nothing she would wear in canon, and a horrible wig that looks as fake as my respect for J.K. Rowling. It's also never, ever explained whether that's her actual hair or not. Doesn't help that Anthea is portrayed as a blonde- oops, spoiler, Anthea appears in this, but don't worry, she does exactly jack shit. Couldn't they just follow the novels' lead and make both redheads on Earth?

I swear I’ve seen better wigs in amateurish cosplays.

Ulrich and William are the least offensive, but also literally the least difficult to get right (just take two white kids with brown and black hair and give them a green and a black jacket, boom, you’re done)- and it took me several episodes to finally learn who was who, but that's my own fault because, as you'll learn, I am shit at recognizing people.

Jeremie was easy. Take blond kid, give him an old turtleneck and round glasses. They only did the first thing in the list, and of course he ended up looking more like an underpaid Silicon Valley intern, or some kid who works at an electronics store to pay for college.

Odd looked 10 thorough the entire series, but as I checked on the wiki, turns out it was just a case of late puberty as he was 16 at the time of the shooting. Mea culpa. However, his hair is remarkably dark if we consider he had the blondest hair out of all the main characters in the original (he won't be the last, nor the boldest case of palette change in this series), and watching I got the weird feeling that his coloured patch kept disappearing from time to time. Is this lore? Is his coloured patch sentient? Also worth mentioning how six months in universe were enough to turn him from wearing bright, eye watering magenta to dark, pseudo mall goth t-shirts.

Last but not least, the moment I saw Yumi, I immediately realized that the actress wasn't japanese. To their defense, she wasn't indian like I first thought- but she was vietnamese. Again, I'm not against casting actors of different ethnicities from the character... but I found it highly ironic that the one character who frequently complains about being mistaken for chinese instead of japanese eventually got portrayed by a non japanese person. Also, the change in her physical appearance makes little sense in universe as well; if the actress is noticeably darker skinned than her original character and the rest of the gang, her avatar on Lyoko... really isn't. So... what happened here? Is Lyoko racist? Or, since we know that avatars in Lyoko are also based upon how someone sees themselves (for example, Ulrich is a fucking weeb, so he gets to be a Samurai), does Yumi secretly wish she had lighter skin? Like, I'm sorry, it's obvious they didn't stop and think about this and the implications were just an accident, but... wow. The more I think about it, the worse it gets.

Things get even worse for pretty much any secondary character except for Jim. Professor Hertz went from a woman in her 60s with gray, curly hair to a woman in her 40s with straight brown hair. Sissi became blond, just like (hear me out) SAM. Yeah, remember Sam? Wannabe punk clothes, short, dark hair with a red streak, probably indian/pakistani or north african (I don't really think she's black because of how she's drawn but depending on headcanon she could perfectly be)? Yeah. In this series? White girl with long and straight blond hair, wearing a jeans jacket. I don't have face blindness, but as I already mentioned I have a few issues in distinguishing people, and having three girls of similar age, same hair colour, lenght and cut, and complexion confused the HELL outta me in several, if not all scenes. (You may wonder, who's the third blond girl? Patience, young padawan, for I'll answer that soon).

At least, are the actors any good? No. No they aren't. Again, no hate, but it was obvious that they were newbies. Their performances went from "barely acceptable" to "abysmal", and it often turned scenes that should have been dramatic absolutely ridiculous and/or pathetic, though direction and writing also have a role in it. Jeremie emotes like three times in the entire season.

I haven't seen the english version but the Italian dub didn't help much, which is saying a lot since the italian dub of the movie that definitely doesn't exist in Ba Sing See helped the movie rise from "unsalvageable" to "good for a 9 year old kid who doesn't know any better" (again, though, The Last Airbender at least had some cool special effects and props, and Dev Patel and Shaun Toub are good actors. The same can't be said for this mess). The italian dub also has the major disadvantage of completely disregarding any kind of lip synch, to frankly comical extents.

Now, for the characterization:

No one, and I mean, NO ONE behaves the way they should. They all act like parodies of themselves- they're like some hellish sentient cardboard cutouts that decided that putting on the quite clearly cursed ring their DM outright told them not to put on was a great idea, and thus ended up with a permanent - 5 to literally every stat modifier. 

None of them were stupid or incompetent in the original, now even Jeremie gets in on making idiotic mistakes that are outright OOC for him to make, such as not being able to solve a simple equation just so Laura can have her moment of glory (I'll talk about Laura later). Hell, Yumi mentions not being able to solve 2nd grade equations! Girl, you're like 16, what the fuck? Did you hit your head and lose your ability to do basic math? Do we have to go and fight the schyphozoa for it? 

And these dumbasses keep getting themselves hurt in the most idiotic ways, especially on Lyoko. It's like they forgot how to fight, and this is ridiculous since they even got some power ups since the last time, Odd now being able to shoot multiple arrows at once, Yumi having a baton for melee other than her fans (the baton will be used twice and will then be forever forgotten, making you wonder if it was a fever dream) and William retaining several of the skills he had under XANA's control, such as the most broken skill of them all, supersmoke.

Not only that, they completely removed any relevant role division in the series- but I already made a post about that (https://cosmic-espero.tumblr.com/post/618281826282340352/you-know-i-finally-realized-why-the), so nevermind.

And, everyone got reduced to a romantic subplot. And I mean, literally. The only thing that helps you tell the various characters apart is who they want to snog.

The Ulrich/Yumi/William triangle is at it again, even more obnoxious this time since William can't decide whether he wants Yumi to just be happy and get with Ulrich or whether he wants to be the main character in his personal romcom and fucking Get The Girl (or Ulrich, considering the vaguely suggestive comment about letting him "borrow his sword", which I’ll never let him live down because fuck you, you guys deserve it for making me suffer through this agonizing hormonal teenage bullshit). And I mean, literally. One episode he says he's given up on her, one or two episodes later he tells Odd he "will never stop trying to conquer Yumi". Ok creep. Not that he isn't as much of a lunatic when it comes to anything else, mind- the writers clearly had no idea of what to do with William, since he keeps changing his mind on everything every two minutes.

Even XANA seems to be tired of this subplot since in one episode he outright asks Yumi who her boyfriend is... though he also seemed to hit on William the one time they spoke face to face, so I'm starting to wonder if he isn't trying to pair Yumi ans Ulrich off so that he can-

... Hmm, yeah, let's not go there.

Odd himself got pushed into a romantic subplot with Bleached Sam, which mainly consists of him making a fool of himself in front of her and Sam suffering through it all before giving him a kiss on the cheek which honestly gave off less chemistry than when Jeremie plants a kiss in Odd's hair in his elation for figuring out something... and now I need brain bleach because I didn't need to imagine Odd x Jeremie. What's with this series and accidental homoerotic subtext?

Odd related mishaps aside, Jeremie ALSO got another possible romantic interest in the shape of Laura.

Finally I get to talk about her.

Laura is, for the lack of a better term, a honest to god Mary Sue.

You remember that one oc type CL fics were full of once upon a time? That one oc that was smarter than Jeremie, figured out how to use the supercomputer in five seconds and made Jeremie's very existance useless? That one oc Aelita (or Yumi, depending on who the author shipped the OC with) probably hated because she was "stealing her man"?

Yeah, that's Laura.

From the very beginning, most watchers are seized by a visceral, uncontrollable loathing towards her, since the already dumbed down Jeremie makes a basic mistake in physics he really shouldn't do even with the show's refusal to aknowledge the characters' full abilities. Like, seriously, I'm not good in physics despite being a natural sciences student, but I'm pretty sure even I at that age would have been to correct him on it. But Laura gets called and all of a sudden this small case of "she was at her desk so she could have perfectly been reading from her textbook" makes her automatically smarter than Jeremie in everything. Ok. And if she truly was smarter than Jeremie all this time, how didn't we hear about her earlier? Wouldn't Hervè be more likely to hate on her rather than Jeremie?

The feeling of dread spikes when, one scene later, you start getting the horrible sensation that she may be interested in Jeremie and that this may be an excuse to introduce some MORE romantic tension in the series in the form of yet ANOTHER triangle.

You would be right, but also wrong. Because while it never goes explicitly into romantic territory, she is, indeed, just a plot device to make Aelita jealous and create conflict in the cheapest way possible.

Now, personally, I think there is a difference between a character that is simply a badly written, overpowered mess and a Mary Sue. The difference being, gains (Mary Sues and Gary Stus obtain stuff they don’t deserve with no effort) and consequences. A Mary Sue doesn't get to experience normal consequences to her (or his) actions- they're always either greatly underplayed (because they can do no wrong) or overplayed (to inspire sympathy). With Laura, the first case is in full action.

During the series, she is nothing but rude, arrogant and incredibly selfish, her only quality (being good with a computer) not being nearly enough to make anyone in the audience just forget about how she treats with clear condescension everyone else in the team, sometimes going as far as to insult people who are supposed to be her friends. And yet, not only they immediately accept her as part of the group when they didn’t even accept Sissi or Jim, not only they happily take every insult thrown their way without giving back as much as they got, it took her outright betraying them not once, but TWICE to make them think about throwing her permanently out of the group. Remember what got Ulrich and William thrown out? Using the rttp to help Yumi out and getting possessed by XANA. These kids don’t just trust people (which 100% ties in to their status as trauma survivors don’t @ me), and while they aren’t above forgiveness, they’re also petty teenagers! Why do you make them into worse assholes they are in canon EXCEPT when they have to interact with your shitty fanfiction OC?

Oh, right, because Laura is the stereotype of a Mary Sue. Did they go on a 2009 “how not to write Mary Sues” internet guide and do the exact opposite?

I read on TvTropes that according to Word of God, Laura was supposed to be an audience surrogate, but the only really relatable character whenever she appears is Aelita, if her gaze containing hardly hidden malice means anything. How are we supposed to relate to an insufferable, rude, selfish child genius?

At least the writers probably realized that, as eventually she got kicked out of the series and reduced to a secondary character.

But only after fucking everything up one last time, so, kudos.

What about the plot and writing, is it any good?

My friend, my buddy, my dear, would I be writing such an incensed wall of text if it was?

Now. I’m gonna throw the writers a bone: a couple of the ideas provided in Evolution were interesting. A human villain that doesn’t collaborate with XANA, thus resulting in a three way conflict? Nice. Mention of Aelita’s mother? Nice. Other people in Lyoko, and a new sector? Very nice. 

Too bad all these concepts are realized in a lazy, uninteresting way. There is no depth to Tyron whatsoever, he’s just a cartoonish old man with stupid hair that looks way less menacing than anything the real XANA has ever done (yes, that includes the teddy bear) and doesn’t put anything interesting on the table, the Cortex is frankly just a shiny Sector 5, the ninjas all look like a bootleg version of Ben 10′s Upgrade, thus robbing us of the chance to see someone new ACTUALLY getting a Lyoko avatar, and Anthea is frankly one of the most disappointing characters in the series, which is probably the worst insult I can come up with right now.

Not only that, me and my friends realized after finishing the season that the only real plot was in the last what, three to five episodes? And that’s being generous. Aside for some vague plot points being sprinkled around, the story itself was crammed at the end of the season, with the rest being just vague emptiness- it felt like watching the first season all over again, except without the things that made the first season great in the first place. Oh, and, yeah... this was supposed to be a fifth season, to end the series properly and take care of any loose ends! For fuck’s sake, I’ve seen fanfictions written by 16 year olds that had a more balanced evolution of the story (heh, get it? Evolution? God, please smite me on the spot).

A few jokes and scenes are actually a bit funny, but it’s either despite the bad acting/pacing which kills the joke itself, or for all the wrong reasons. Seeing XANA argue with himself pretending to be Odd and WIlliam to uphold the masquerade is frankly hilarious as a concept.

But what about the effects? Aren’t those good or at least decent?

No.

No, they really don’t.

The return to the past looks atrocious. I am about 99% sure that both the factory and Kadik are just shitty cg green screen. The spectres look stupid as fuck and about as menacing as me in hot pink pyjamas and half blind because I’m not wearing my glasses, thought that’s also because they do little more than walk around frowning like 10 year olds who think they’re tough because they just watched some random battle shonen anime and the edgy character was cool walking like that.They chose to spice the scannerization scene a little bit by adding random colours to it but it just looks dumb.

Oh, and fun fact- THEY CUT OUT BASICALLY EVERY ATTACK. 

In Evolution, surprise surprise, XANA only and exclusively implements spectres- which are as I already said, as unimpressive as everything else. Especially since they’re not menacing smokey black ghosts- they just take the shape of someone and when they get defeated they explode in a blue flash- but also because the actors, as I said, are laughably bad. You just try and not lose your shit when you see Bleached Sam slowly raise her arms like a kid imitating a zombie or a mummy and goofily run at Odd... that’s supposed to be a dramatic scene.

B-but at least the animation probably looks decen-

The models themselves aren’t the problem. Personally I find a few of them eerie and/or dumb looking (*cough* William that eyeliner looks like shit *cough*) but in general they’re... alright? I guess? But the animation goes from “fine” to “uncanny valley” real fucking quick also because of their more realistic look. If... if you can’t handle realistic models, don’t use realistic models! There was nothing wrong with the old style.

Also, the action scenes are incredibly static if compared to the ones in the cartoon series- the choreographies are uninspired and boring, and more often than not someone ends up devirtualized not even two minutes after being on Lyoko. Honestly, git gud y’all, what the hell happened to you? Even when they aren’t dying they’re often doing shit like hiding, which slows down the pacing immensely.

Also, they cut down TWO sectors- the forest and the ice sectors. Because something something quality over quantity except I don’t see much quality either here... would you look at that, they pulled a Game Freak before Game Freak did.

Other miscellanous insults to the original series I couldn’t fit in any specific category:

 -  Ulrich seems to practice anything even remotely asian in nature, from judo to pencak silat (which he also practiced in the original) to karate to YOGA. Did the writers forget what he was supposed to be into? Did they think “well he’s fucking weeb trash so he must like japanese things” (Pencak Silat and yoga aren’t japanese)? Did they want him to be able to fight in at least three martial arts? But none of these ever come up again! Pencak silat is only mentioned once, he only practices judo with Yumi once, and he only fights in a karate tournament, you guessed it, ONCE. See what I mean when I say that these aren't characters but plot devices?

 -  Jeremie mentions that they don't use the rttp function much because it "uses up a lot of energy". I call bullshit here because 1, you guys absolutely overuse the shit out of it here, also because you can't seem to stop letting Laura find out about your secret lab because you are a bunch of imbeciles, and 2, the fact that the return to the past made XANA stronger was ONE HELL OF A PLOT POINT IN THE ORIGINAL. And about painful retcons, how about the fact that everyone acts like they’ve never been in a tower before?

Oh, too bad that...

https://youtu.be/2GNYXEEmc-I?t=1180

... that’s bullshit. WHY are you retconing this? There was no need to do that! There was no need to make everyone look like they just found Atlantis, they’ve already done this! Multiple times!

https://youtu.be/opGMBVMnpl8?t=680

I could find even more examples but I’ll just... end this here.

-  Tbh, in general everyone seems to have forgotten shit that was frankly perfectly normal. They act surprised at the most basic shit ever, and I just- why? This thing is supposed to be for fans. What kind of Code Lyoko fan doesn’t know that polymorphic spectres exist?

- About spectres, they never try to kill anyone. Not even the warriors. They just want to take their “codes”- BULLSHIT. XANA WANTS THEM DEAD OR AT LEAST UNDER HIS COMPLETE CONTROL. The worst this XANA does is send a creepy child in a suit to hug people... seriously. No wonder no one even notices anything weird is going on, for fuck’s sake, all they see is the Lyoko warriors running from people who just... slowly walk towards them.

- Millie, Tamiya, Hervé, Hiroki- these are just a few of the relevant secondary characters who got cut out. Hell, it took the writers 18 episodes to remember that Kiwi existed, and they handwaved it by putting him on a bus. With those minor characters being cut out, it’s also no surprise that the Lyoko Warriors seem to have no contact with anyone other than themselves, XANA, Tyron and maybe Sissi (in one episode) and Jim. One of the great things of CL was how consistent the secondary characters and even the extras were- it helped make the story feel more real, especially since they all had their own personalities and often interacted with the main characters. They didn’t even leave that.

- It has an open ending. Because of course it does. It also ends in an unsatisfying way- even for an open ending, to the point where I may as well call it a cliffhanger.

IN SHORT:

If you like “so bad it’s so good” stuff, then you could find some completely accidental merit to this bloody mess of a trainwreck. When I wasn’t overcome with pure, unearthly rage, I was laughing like a complete imbecile- so, ironically speaking this series gets a 9/10.

If we’re considering it objectively, however, I can’t give anything more than 3/10. So many good ideas, wasted. If you really want a conclusion to Code Lyoko, do yourself a favour and read the novels.

[fanfictionaries]

Playing the Game - Chapter 1

Summary: When aspiring writer Grace Caulder is met with financial troubles, she finds herself reluctantly limping back to a life she never thought she’d go back to. The new personal assistant for two of the most successful Managing Directors in New York investment banking, Grace can’t help but feel disgusted with herself and everyone around her. Struggling to come to grips with childhood memories and an eerily familiar boss, Grace tries to find out just who she is and who she loves? 

Steve Rogers wasn’t always the high powered, elite business he was today. No. At one point he was a skinny, little kid, fresh out of Brooklyn, just trying to make it through the daily torment of high school bullies. And his biggest tormentor just became his new personal assistant. Now’s his chance to get his revenge. But, is everything he thought he knew about her, true? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, NSFW/18+ only, Darkish

Author’s note: First chapter is up! Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

***

Have you ever woken up and found yourself possessed by the imminent feeling of greatness? You roll over in your bed, well-rested and content, the sun shining through your windows, the birds chirping outside, and you know that it is going to be your day. A great day. A life changing day.

Well, that was exactly the opposite of how Grace Caulder felt the morning of her first day at Stark Investments. In fact, her emotions could probably be placed somewhere between puking and flinging herself off the fire escape of her fourth story walkup. But, seeing as she’d never had a weak stomach and the fall not being nearly high enough to kill her, she did neither. No, instead she laid there, a writhing mess of self-pity with just a dash of self-loathing, before dragging her butt out of bed and getting ready.

As her tall, black stilettos clicked audibly across the marble lobby floor of one of New York’s most esteemed investment banking institutions, Grace tried to put herself in a state of mind similar to her surroundings. Men in sharp suits and cutthroat smiles eyed her up and down and in return, she flashed them an award winning smile, her red lips parting to reveal the perfectly straight, white teeth her parents had spent so much money on. Money. The whole building reeked of it. Not literally, but as she wedged herself in between designer suits and handbags, before the doors of the elevator closed, she couldn’t help but feel like she was sixteen again.

She was alone when the elevator chimed, and the doors opened revealing the 35th floor.  Clean lines and a grey monochromatic color palette filled the space in front of her. Marble, glass, and minimalist furniture created a sense of movement and growth. It was futuristic. Innovative. No nonsense. It evoked a feeling of success. Walking straight to the front desk with as much poise and elegance as she could must up, she smiled, “Good morning Natasha.”

“Well look who it is. I’ll let Marie know that you’re here,” said the receptionist, her tone monotonic and expression bored, as she pressed in a number, paused for a few moments, and then spoke into the mic piece of her headset.

“Maria. Grace Caulder is here. Perfect, I’ll let her know.” She ended the call, turning her attention back to Grace.

“She’ll be out in a second—” she paused, looking Grace up and down before a small smile spread across her face “—You know, I was hoping you’d get the job. Out of all the miserable little creatures that walked through here, you were the only one that seemed acceptable enough for the position. I mean, you seriously should have seen the people that Maria had interviewing! I was beginning to think we were doing some sort of outreach program.” Rolling her eyes dramatically, she adjusted the sleeves of her cream colored blouse. Grace smiled at her in amusement, admiring her dark red hair and the way that every curl was perfectly swept into a French twist. Truthfully, she had always wished she possessed the same deep shade of auburn and not her coppery shade.

“You know, I love your blouse Natasha. Is that from Miu Miu’s new spring collection?” She leaned over the front desk a bit to get a better look as Natasha eyed her devilishly.

“Gracie, dear, you are a woman after my own heart. I should have known when you walked in here with genuine Prada donning your pretty little feet, we’d be best friends. We should get lunch some time. I know a great, little tapas place right down the stree—”

“Grace?” Turning, she saw Maria walking towards her. An older woman yes, but she hardly looked it; everything about her was primped and manicured. Grace’s eyes followed her long, sharp acrylics as they tucked a piece of her jaw length mahogany hair behind her ear. Grace took the perfectly manicured hand in her own and shook it firmly.

“Lovely to see you again Maria. I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity, really,” she kissed ass. She hated herself a little for it, but she did it anyway. It’s what these kinds of people responded to best.  

“Oh, the choice was obvious Ms. Caulder. I mean with your level of professionalism and your references! Not to mention when I found out who your father was…well how could I not?” Maria finished, placing her hands on her narrow hips.

Grace fidgeted a little, uncomfortable with the mention of her father. She should have known that they would make the connection.

“Well, come this way. I’ll take you to your new office and show you where everything is. Mr. Rogers should be in around noon. He had a few early morning meetings today across town,” Maria informed her as they walked across the lobby and around the corner. Rogers…every time she heard the name something pulled in the pit of her stomach and the back of her head. Something was so familiar about the name, but for the life of her she couldn’t quite place it.

“And Mr. Barnes?” Grace asked as they entered a small office. Just big enough for a desk and a single bookshelf. Behind the desk was a window overlooking the city. There had to be some perks to the position. She placed her purse carefully on the desk and hung her jacket up a hook on the wall before adjusting her silk blouse.

“Well, he’s in right now actually. Shall we go say hi?” Maria suggested as she turned back towards the hallway, not waiting for an answer.

With their heels click-clacking in syncopation, they walked towards past office after office. Grace wasn’t the only personal assistant on this floor. In fact, the 35th floor was one of three floors at Stark Investments that housed the Managing Directors and their immediate personnel. However, she was the only personal assistant to Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers, the two highest paid MDs in the company. Reaching the end of the hall, Maria knocked on the door of the corner office.

“Come in!” called a muffled voice from the other side.

Grace followed the older woman through the door to find a bright, inviting space. Floor to ceiling windows showcased all of New York’s financial district and then some. The office still possessed the same modern flair, but little touches here and there made it feel warmer. A picture frame here, a knick-knack there. Her eyes focused on Mr. Barnes as he stood from his desk. He was tall, and broad through the shoulders, but not overtly imposing. She eyed his suit. Expensive but simple. His face was clean shaven, and his brown hair was cropped short on the sides, the longer hair on top gelled back. There was no denying that he was an attractive man, but so were a lot of people in this business. Good looks and charisma often got you just as far as smarts and a cutthroat attitude.

As he walked towards them, it was with the air of someone who held a level of self-assuredness. Not cocky, but confident. Mr. Barnes was from money. Only someone who had known the comfort of money all their lives could hold that level of ease and look so relaxed in such a high-stress position. He eyed Grace up and down before addressing Maria, “Who is this? You know it’s not my birthday for another month.”

Maria gave him a stern look.

“Joking as always,” Mr. Barnes replied, tongue in cheek.

Grace watched as Maria relaxed, “We just stopped by because I wanted to introduce you to my new replacement.”

“Replacement? So soon?”

“Well, I leave for Amsterdam next week. I figured it was acceptable timing,” said Maria, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Right, of course. I guess I just let time slip away from me. Haven’t quite accepted that you’re leaving us.”

“Speaking of which, don’t forget the party is this Thursday. You and Sophia are coming, correct?”

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Grace fidgeted in her heels, catching Mr. Barnes’ eye.

“How rude. Sorry doll,” apologized Mr. Barnes. “James Buchanan Barnes. Pleased to have you on board.” He shook her hand firmly, the exuding stench of businessman charm nauseating her. He would be the kind to his personal assistant, whom he’d just met, something like doll.

“Grace Caulder, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Barnes,” she smiled big, making sure to maintain eye contact.

“Oh please, call me Bucky.”

The sound of the door behind them opening abruptly and then slamming took Bucky’s attention away from her. A deep voice, irate and resounding filled the room.

“Buck, I’ve just come from JPMorgan and you would not believe the absolute shit that—”

“We have company Stevie—” Bucky interrupted “—come here and meet our new assistant.” He seemed to be completely unfazed to the loud and aggressive man that had just entered the room. Turning around to meet her second and decidedly angrier boss, Grace froze.

“Steven?” Grace choked out quietly in disbelief.

The tall, blue eyed ghost of her past gave her a look of confusion, “Pardon? Have we met?”

Shaking her head, Grace collected herself, smoothing her hands down her black pencil skirt and stepping forward.

“Sorry. Um, no. Grace Caulder, your new assistant. It’s very nice to meet you Mr. Rogers.”

“I swear to god Wanda, it was terrifying. I’m pretty sure I saw my entire adolescence flash before my eyes!” said Grace as she sunk the sharp chef’s knife through another carrot, cutting the pieces julienne.

“Oh, come on G.C., you’re being a little overdramatic, don’t you think?” Wanda scoffed from her place in front of the stove.

“No! I don’t! You don’t get it Wanda. You didn’t know me back then,” she shuddered at the thought. Grace Caulder. Queen Bee Bitch of Trinity.

“I know you’ve probably blown it out of proportion over the years,” said Wanda tasting the tomato sauce in front of her before adding a dash of salt. Wanda, Grace’s roommate of three years, did most of cooking in the apartment. After several instances of near fatal stovetop fires, they both decided it was safer that way. That being said, Grace could wield a kitchen knife like no other and so she often covered salads and sous chef responsibilities. It was a nice give and take that they participated in.

“I mean, you couldn’t have been that bad,” Wanda continued.

“You would have hated me,” Grace responded, pointing the tip of her knife in Wanda’s direction before stabbing it down into the wooden cutting board. Wanda side-eyed her, challenging her statement with a look.

“I was the head cheerleader, took my daddy’s limo to school every day, and made girls cry for sport,” Grace responded, deadpan.

“Alright…maybe I would have hated you a little.”

“I’m pretty sure a couple girls transferred because of me.”

“Well I’m just going to argue that you’re a pretty awesome person now, so I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it. You were young. People grow; they change,” said Wanda, walking past her to grab two plate from the cupboard. They dished up Wanda’s spaghetti and Grace’s salad before walking to the couch.

“That’s the thing though. I was completely self-aware all those years. I knew what I was doing, and I hated it!” Grace exclaimed before digging into her pasta.

Confusion flash across Wanda’s face as she pressed further, “Then why did you do it?”

Grace finished her bite before taking a deep breath and answering, “Growing up where I did was like being thrown in a shark tank. You either learned to swim or you were eaten alive.”

“So, you learned to swim?”

Grace scoffed, “Worse. I became a shark. God…there was always all this pressure from my mom and dad to look a certain way, act a certain way, be friends with certain people, date certain people. Those people weren’t always the nicest, but if I wanted to make my family proud and keep them off of my back, I had to play nice. Of course, playing nice usually involved an array of status degradation rituals very specific to teenage girls.” She shook her head trying to free herself of the memories.

“G.C. that’s some intense shit. No wonder you don’t like to talk about home.”

“Yea and now that I’m at this new job it just feels…I’m just worried I’m gonna turn back into that person. I mean you wouldn’t believe how easy it was for me to slip my Grace Caulder mask back on. Everyone there just cares about money, looks, and status!” She took another bite of pasta, chewing angrily.

“I’m sorry G.C., if I had known I never would have let you take the job. Quit! Don’t work there, we’ll figure something ou—”

“Don’t—" Grace interrupted. “—I don’t want to hear another word. It’s not your fault they cut back your hours and I’m not gonna let you get a second job while you’re trying to get your Masters.” Grace sighed, looking down at her lap, “I always knew that freelance work wasn’t going to pay the bills forever. Maybe, this is a wakeup call. Maybe I just need to realize that I’m not cut out to be a writer, ya know? It’s a hard career and I probably shot above my head. We need this job. We need the money. I’m not gonna let either of us live on the streets. I can do this. I just need to swallow my pride first…and a whole bottle of pills.”

Wanda gasped, picking up a pillow and hitting Grace with it, “Not funny G.C.!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the suicide jokes…for now. But seriously, I have a way for us to live comfortably; it would be selfish not to take advantage of it.”

“Okay enough sappiness. I can’t handle it! So, this Steven, are you sure that he’s your new boss?” Wanda asked, putting her plate of pasta on the coffee table.

“I don’t know! I mean, there has to be a million Steve Rogers in the world, and it didn’t seem like he recognized me.” The topic had been melting her brain to mush all day. After their brief introduction, Maria and she had left Bucky and Steve to talk. She hadn’t seen him at all the rest of the day, but her mind kept going back to the absolute lack of recognition in his eyes when they shook hands.

“Well that’s good then! It’s probably not him!”

“Yea, I wish it was that simple. Here, look up ‘Steven Rogers Stark Investments’ on your phone really quick. I’ll be right back.” Grace ran to her room and dug into the back of her closet. After some effort and a lot of dust, she pulled out the item she was looking for. When she reentered the living room, she found Wanda with her eyes glued to her phone.

“You’re in trouble. Why the hell did you not tell me that your new boss is gorgeous?!” she spun her phone around to reveal a picture of him on the cover of Global Finance.

“I’m sorry Wanda. I was a little too preoccupied seeing this when I looked at him,” Grace retorted before opening her old yearbook and thrusting it in her face. It was a page out of the clubs’ section. This particular club was Art Club and there stood Steven. Standing barely five feet tall, thin as a rail and sporting some very ill-fitting, obviously second-hand clothes.  

Wanda let out an audible gasp that turned into a giggle.

“Wow. He’s just a little guy!” she turned the yearbook back to Grace. Snatching the book out of Wanda’s hands, she flopped onto the couch next to her roommate.

“Shut up! For your information he happened to be really sweet and smart and funny…” Grace looked down at the face of the boy she had left long behind.

“Oh my god, G.C.! Did you have a crush on him?”

“Yes. Which meant I was worse to him that anyone else. No way I was going to let my friends know I liked Teeny Tiny Rogers.” Grace scrunched her face in distaste.

“Teeny Tiny Rogers? I thought you said you went to a private prep school; doesn’t that require some skill?” Wanda gave her a disappointed look.

“Wealth doesn’t always equate cleverness Wanda.”

She watched as Wanda’s eyes flicked between the yearbook and her phone, concentration on her face. “G.C. they do look a lot alike. I mean, give him a major growth spurt and about ten years in the gym and this could be him…”

She groaned, “That’s exactly what I was hoping you wouldn’t say. So, what do I do?”

“Well…you said he acted like he had no idea who you were. Maybe he’s forgotten?” Wanda suggested.

Grace let the idea bounce around in her head, “I’d like to imagine that he did, but considering the amount of development that happens during that time in adolescence…memories stick. I mean what do you remember most about high school?”

“Elizabeth Germer. She told everyone that I was born with a tail. I had people oinking at me in the hallways for years…okay I get your point.”

Grace buried her face in the pages of Trinity School 2010, “Wanda, this is a disaster!”

“Well maybe he’s forgiven you. Maybe pretending to not know who you were was his way of saying it’s all water under the bridge. I mean, obviously he’s doing okay. More than okay! You’re working for him. He’s won!” Wanda stood, grabbing their empty dishes and walking towards the kitchen. Grace followed her, thinking over her point.

“But what if you’re wrong? How am I going to walk into that office tomorrow and not act like I didn’t torture him for four years? What do I do?” Grabbing a sponge and the soap from under the sink, she turned on the water and began to wash the dishes as Wanda stored the leftovers.

“You want to know what you’re gonna do? You’re going to stop acting like a giant, overdramatic baby and stop whining! You’re going to put on your overpriced, big girl panties, slip on an expensive dress, step into those ridiculously high heels and go to work. Do your job. Act like nothing is wrong. In fact, you’re going to treat him like a complete and total stranger. Okay?” Closing the refrigerator door, Wanda turned to face her, clearly having heard enough on the subject. Grace rinsed the last dish and put it on the wrack before drying her hands. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her roommate.

“Okay. You’re right. You are completely right. I’m obviously not going to quit so I just need to do my job. Play the game for a little and if I eventually have to face up to what I did then…so be it,” she decided. Wanda walked towards her, arms outstretched, bringing Grace into a big hug.

“Don’t worry G.C. Everything will work itself out. I promise and besides you aren’t even sure it’s the same guy. I mean sure, they look alike but plenty of people do. Maybe you just happened to find his incredibly good looking and successful doppelganger.” Patting her on the back, Wanda walked past her and towards her bedroom. As she stood there, in the kitchen, by herself, Grace wouldn’t help but think about her new boss. Was he the Steven she’d known all those years ago? The sweet and sincere dork. Or was he some freaky ripped lookalike that happened to have the same name? She couldn’t know for sure, but what she did know is that night she laid awake in bed trying to convince herself that incredibly attractive doppelgängers did exist.  

Marvel Taglist: 

@caffiend-queen​

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #270

“please remain calm; the end has arrived. we cannot save you; enjoy the ride.”

Do you own pastel-colored pants? No. What type of lotion do you use? I don't really use it. Nothing seems to help how dry my skin is. What were your favorite clothing stores in high school? Hot Topic. If you could have a car in any color you wanted, which color? Pastel pink, but realistically (given a pink car would probably have a paint job I'd have to pay for, I assume?), I like burnt orange cars. Not too brown-ish, though. What is your favorite color, do you look good in it, & do you wear it a lot? Pink, probably not, and no. Name someone you know who hates pink. Idk. What is your favorite Avril Lavigne song? "Nobody's Home." Do you kill bugs? Sometimes. Depends. If they're in my house, most likely. Have you ever had a bedroom that had wallpaper on the walls? No. Do you own any rompers? No. What’s one thing you’ve done to celebrate Earth Day? I made a birdhouse out of a milk carton once. Animal Planet taught me lol. Do you use window clings (aka window stickers)? No. What color is your stapler? Black. Do you have a desk that you sit at in your room? Ugh, no, but that's one reason I want to move to somewhere I have a bigger room for a desk so I don't do everything in my damn bed. What do you miss about college? Feeling like I was worth something and on a "proper" path. Was your middle school crush the same as your high school crush? No. What is/was your dream school? I never had a "dream" school. Do you wish you could talk to someone about your past? If so, who? Idk, probably someone. What motivates you? Music and/or videos on whatever subject I could use motivation in, like self-care on my bad days. Have you ever completed a weight loss program? No. Tried, though. When was the last time you did something for the first time? I went through a doctor appointment entirely without Mom just a few days ago; she had to stay in the car due to chemo, so I filled stuff out, checked in/out alone, answered questions on my own, that business. I'm entirely aware it's sad as hell that a 24 y/o did that for the first time, but if you knew just how dependent I am on my mom, you'd get it. Which do you prefer: Valentine’s Day or Easter? Valentine's when I actually have someone to celebrate with, but I love Easter as an aunt with how excited the kids are about candy and all. Easter sorta rubs me the wrong way though since, y'know, Christianity essentially stole and rebuilt it. Do you wait until the last minute to decorate, or do you decorate early? I myself don't even decorate. Mom only does for Christmas, and it's very last minute. What’s your favorite Starbucks drink? I don't drink Starbucks. What were you wearing in the last good selfie you took? *checks phone* uh the one where I'm wearing a red tank top is okay. That's all you can see cuz FUCK taking full-body pics of me. What’s on your wish list right now? Ha, I actually have a list in my phone of things I really want/need to buy when I can. A few include a bigger terrarium to Venus, a treadmill, an Unus Annus shirt before the channel and thus merch expire, glasses for driving... What do you use to sweeten your tea? I don't drink tea. Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No, I don't wear enough colors or makeup in general to warrant buying one. When was the last time you stepped outside of your comfort zone? The aforementioned doctor visit. How would you rate your self-esteem? Low, healthy, or high? Low as like, the deepest oceanic trench probs. Do you own a tripod for your camera? Yeah. Were you a bigger fan of Lindsay Lohan or Hilary Duff? Hilary. Do you make Halloween costumes out of clothes from your closet? Only ever to just be a goth to live out my inner fantasy of regularly flaunting that aesthetic. Do you enjoy putting outfits together? Not particularly. Would you rather it rain or snow? Snow! What does your umbrella look like? Don't have one. What’s one thing you’ve had a toxic reaction to? Do you mean like, emotionally/mentally toxic? I'm guessing probably yes. Even though parts of it were entirely realistic, understandable reactions/behaviors, I most definitely had some toxicity in me regarding the breakup, too. Which do you prefer: cropped tops or tunic tops? Uggghhhh, both are so cute. On me, I'd only ever wear tunic tops, but on others, I tend to find cropped tops cuter. What’s a style or trend that you think is ridiculous? I don't pay enough attention to this to really know... hm. Yeah, idk. Which YouTuber do you want to be more like? I could only dream of being as motivated and smart and determined and "I can do this shit" as Markiplier jfc I Love One Man Only. Do you like stuffed animals? EEEEEEEEK yes!!!! What was your favorite class in high school? Art. Have you ever gotten straight A’s in a class? If so, which classes? Yes; not to brag whatsoever, but too many for me to remember. I remember I got my very first B in 5th grade in I think math, and I was so bummed out. Were there any subjects that you got a perfect SAT score in? If so, what? I don't think so. Are you happy today? If so, what made you happy today? I'm content-ish, not happy, but also not unhappy. Is your bed right by a window? There's one to my upper right and middle left, but my bed's not exactly against either. Do you spend more time in your bedroom or your living room? I barely leave my bedroom. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? Halloween, if I actually did decorate. Do you name stuffed animals still? Very rarely. Depends on what it is, the importance, etc. What titles did you win in the senior class polls? I FUCKIN READ THIS AS "TITTIES" AND WAS JUST LIKE... Anyway, none. Were you popular in school? No. If you’re from the US, what states have you lived in? Only NC. Who was your best roommate? Well, Jason, if he even counted as a "roommate." Was your first roommate your best roommate? See above, considering idk if he fits the term; if he does, then yes. What’s the best family vacation you’ve ever been on? Disney World. Have you ever wanted to be a model? No. What years did you attend prom? Sophomore (bf was a senior and he took me) and senior. What do you want to be for Halloween? I was recently listening to a metal version of Oogie Boogie's song from TNBC and it hit me: MISS Oogie Boogie. A fat bitch could pull that shit off, watch me ho. Which member of your family are you closest to? My mom. If you have any regrets, what is the biggest one? If not, why do you have no regrets? Letting a boy become absolutely all that mattered and more to me. Would you ever apply to be on reality TV? Why? Ew, no. I don't need any more people judging me and my life. What is the best thing that has ever happened to you? The partial hospitalization program that saved my life, literally. Do you have a hard time letting things go? It depends on what it is, but generally, yes. I recently realized one of my greatest flaws: I respond very, very poorly to loss, in any way. Looking back on people (especially people), events, other things... a negative, chronic reaction to loss is present throughout. What have you accomplished in life that has made you the most happy? Emotionally healed, a lot. I don't think some things will ever fully scar over, but nevertheless, I don't mentally have fuckin gashes in me. Have you ever struggled with your weight? Ever since the breakup, yes. I thought I was slightly fat before then, but looking at pictures now, I just think "damn hunny u look gud" and realize I was perfectly healthy. But anyway, I was put on a medication called Abilify (full-on name droppin', fuck this med), and it MURDERED my metabolism. I could eat a fuckin carrot and gain five pounds, probably. Emotional eating probably contributed too, but here's the thing: my current doctor took me off of it, knowing the moment I mentioned it that it was not only bad for me and my conditions but also responsible for the extreme weight gain? Pounds dropped like a ton of bricks, and this started before my emotional eating began to die off and regulate. I lost around 80 pounds just from dropping a goddamn pill. Cue college essay-long rant here about how my body image was slaughtered, how much I loathe the fucking doc that kept me on the med and blamed everything on me, and now how I've been stuck weight-wise for two years despite a vast plethora of methods to continue shedding a;sdlkfajkwlelawe GUYS I could rant til my hypothetical great-grandchildren die. When you are out with your friends are you loud and outgoing or shy and reserved? It depends on who the friend is, where we are, etc., but generally, I'm just awkward, trying to be outgoing when in fact I'm questioning every single thing I say and do al;wekjrkawde this survey has taken a TURN. Do you like to stay in your pajamas all day long? I don't leave my pj's unless I have to leave the house and go inside somewhere besides like, a gas station or something that's just "whatever." In high school did you have a lot of friends? Do you still keep in touch? I wouldn't say a *lot*, no, but not a tiny amount, either. The only one I ever still see is Girt, but I keep up with many on Facebook via the like button and shit, ha. Do you really care about such issues as abortion, religion, and global warming? Fuck yes I do. Who is the biggest womanizer you know? Juan sure was, but I haven't been in contact with him for years. Would you ever have a threesome? No. Who is the most attractive person you know? Of those I personally know-know, my answer will probably always be Alon like jc she's beautiful. When did you last feel the most free? ZOINKS we can't ask that question in America rn. Is there anyone who likes (or liked) you and had a really hard time getting over you? I don't know. Did you ever love someone and feel like it was wrong? Love? No. Well, before I realized I was bi, maybe Mini counts, as then I was anti-LGBT and couldn't even imagine myself as anything but straight. What’s your favorite bug? Butterflies. What’s the longest amount of time you liked/loved somebody for? Yeesh... I still can't say with absolute confidence I no longer love Jason at all, whom I started dating in 2012 and went head over heels for. What song makes you cry? There's a few that are capable of it sometimes, but do fucking not play "Stairway To Heaven" if I'm within 10 miles of you. "Another Life" by MiW usually makes me tear up towards the end, but it normally doesn't get that far anymore. Do you like rock or rap music better? Rock, as I'm not a rap fan. If you could watch someone change, would you? Yes let me live my life a;lsdkfjaws Ever known someone with an eating disorder? I don't know. I think maybe? Have you ever had a white Christmas? I think? The best snow we ever got was late Christmas night though, and the next morning was a total whiteout. What’s something you want to do but aren’t sure of yet? Hm. Idk. I'm pretty sure of most things I want to do. Biggest lie you ever told? I'm not entirely sure and I'd rather not search for one. Do you have a religion? I don't fit perfectly into any. I relate most with Neo-Paganism, but even that I deviate from some. Believe that there is a point to churches? I mean sure, people have the right to believe in/worship what they want to, and some people get a lot of joy and reassurance out of going. How do eat Oreos? "I split them in half and lick the cream before eating the cookie." <<<< Converse or Vans? Idc. Eh, maybe Converse, but idk. Dancing or watching others dance? I love watching others dance, it's why I enjoyed dance recitals and competitions. Favorite thing to touch/feel? My cat! <3 Rather be in a tornado or a large earthquake? Both would be horrifying, but I guess earthquake. I've had an outrageous fear of tornadoes since I was very little. Would you rather Santa or the Easter Bunny actually exist? Santa, duh. Would you rather spread gossip or start a fight? Start a fight, I guess. Trying to sully someone's name with false information would haunt me way more than starting an understandable fight. What has been the best New Year's for you so far & why? I don't know. What is the weirdest fear you’ve ever heard of someone having? Do you have any weird fears, and if so, what are they? Uhhh I think maybe butterflies? Idk, even that's not too weird considering it's an insect, and that's common. I'm personally absolutely terrified of pregnancy and also whale sharks scare me quite a bit. ig that's weird. How did you find Tumblr? lol how could you not know at some point as a teen on the Internet. What of the 8 wonders of the world do you find the most fascinating, if any? I had to look them up lmao. I guess the Great Pyramid of Giza. I in general find Egyptian culture and art to be very cool. Do you have a webcam? If you do, do you ever use it and what for? I mean, it's built into the laptop. I never use it. What is something that you think is really underrated? The band Otep, for one. I mean they're not small, but I don't think most people interested in the metal genre know them. OH and then there are A LOT of YouTube artists that MADLY deserve to be signed. I have a large chunk of metal musicians I listen to, and those especially like Jonathan Young blow my fucking mind they haven't technically "made it," even if they have a large subscriber base. Have you ever had a dream where you died? Did anything weird happen to your body after it? Yes, a few. Now hang with me, okay? One of my worst nightmares as a kid involved the wicked witch from TWoO turning me into one of those fucking party things that you blow into it and the paper unfurls and her using it killed me. Yo idk. I was really scared of that witch as a kid. What’s the scariest dream you’ve ever had? How about the most realistic? It involved my dad and that's all that needs to be said. Realistic? Hm. This was SO long ago that I barely remember *just* how real it felt, but I remember it felt real as fuck. I was very little when this happened. I dreamed that I went outside to our porch because there was a weird light and when I stepped outside, a swan and a goose flew down from the light onto the porch to become my late grandpa and my deeply beloved cat Midnight, who died from sickness. I'm sure it was just a dream now, but back then, I was VERY convinced it was like a vision from God or something, telling me they were okay and with us. Do you have a favorite fashion trend? What is it? Is there a fashion trend right now that you think is completely ridiculous, and if so, what? What do you think was the worst fashion trend of all time? I don't care about fashion enough to go in depth about all this. I'll tell you right now though that mullets were the worst mistake known to mankind. Do you tend to like original horror movies or re-makes better? What’s your favorite horror movie? Is it an original or a remake? If you're remaking an old one, I'll probably like it more since they're generally not nearly as cheesy. Modern horror movies, I don't have much of a preference. My fave is The Blair Witch Project, and it's an original. What is one characteristic in a person that you cannot stand? What characteristics do you like best in a person? Do you possess any of these characteristics? Those that act violent when they're angry, for one. Those scare me. Some traits that I really like are compassion, patience, genuineness, empathy, kindness just for the sake of being so, stuff like that. I'd like to think I've got some of those. It's notable that in my nightmares, I'm way more violent than I actually am, though. What kind of jeans do you like best? When I actually wore jeans, they were like solely skinny jeans. What has been the most traumatic experience of your life? Does it still bother you? A very abrupt and poorly-executed breakup after a long-term relationship and falling way, way too hard to be healthy. Does it still bother me? PTSD is stapled on my fucking forehead if you know the slightest about it. I've healed a whole lot, but I'm pretty sure it's a scar that's never going to even fully seal.

[recentanimenews]

Tower of God – 13 (Fin) – Just Climb, Baby

“‘Be sure to drink your Ovaltine’. Ovaltine?! A crummy commercial?! Son of a bitch!”—Ralphie, A Christmas Story

I thought of that quote from a movie I watched a ton growing up when I watched this finale, because over and over I’d heard that this adaptation was nothing but a pale shadow of/introduction to the sprawling webtoon, something I’d never seen, and was more of a commercial than a product in its own right.

Don’t get me wrong: both Ralphie and I should have known that at the end of the day anime—like radio—is a business. Unless it’s original content, part of its raison d’etre is to sell its source material, be it a manga/manhwa, novel, or game. Much like Bam, I can’t say Tower of God “tricked” me into watching it only for it to be a glorified prologue. Like Rachel’s attitude towards Bam, its true nature was always apparent.

But I only watch anime for anime’s sake. Any product that tries to steer me towards something that isn’t anime is never going to succeed. I watched Tower of God simply for the characters it introduced, the story that was told, and the setting in the title…which, it turns out, we never really got to see. There was never any actual climbing…that doesn’t begin until the very end.

Up top you see Rachel’s look of relief as she says “Finally,” her long ordeal with Bam is over (at least for now). One mark against this finale is how little new content it contains; much of it is a recap of past events with Rachel’s narration providing fresh context, right up to when she shoves Bam out of the bubble and to his apparent death.

We start with Rachel arriving at the base of the Tower, meeting Headon, and being told she’s too weak to climb it. But she’s eventually able to convince both him and Hansung Yu to let her make the attempt anyway, but only if she completes a special test: She must kill Bam. They even provide her with a Rak-sized bodyguard, as well as guidance from the redhead Hwaryun.

In Rachel’s mind, what she must do is never in dispute, so much of her ordeal throughout the training sessions is convincing her body to respond to her mind’s intentions. Climbing the Tower and becoming a star, not just seeing them, is her primary objective, and Bam is an obstacle.

She watches and stews with envy and resetment as he gains everything she wants with hardly any effort: an amazing weapon, a tight-knit circle of loyal friends who believe in him, the ability to summon and manipulate shinsu at an elite level.

But finally, the incident with Hoh puts her in a position to get rid of Bam, but tying him to her more closely than ever. Bam was never going to abandon her not matter how badly she treated him, so when she loses the ability to walk, he offers to stay by her side and be her legs.

Throughout all of this, Rachel has no illusions about who and what she is. She’s no savior, she’s nothing special; only something “extra”. She’s not a star, but at best a shadow cast by one. But that doesn’t mean the shadow won’t try to take the star’s place. If she climbs the Tower and becomes a star, perhaps the self-loathing within her will go away.

Yu and Hwaryun arrange things so Rachel is found by the others in a puddle of worm slime, and when she comes to she has no idea what happened to Bam. Anything could have happened, but the theory they’re left with is that he was probably eaten by a fish. In any case, he’s gone, Rachel is free of him. Climbing out of bed with very functional legs, she stands by the window and laughs a villainous laugh.

That’s because despite no longer having Bam to lean on, all of his friends (except maybe Parscale, who goes along with the group anyway) believe that helping Rachel in Bam’s place is what he would have wanted. They’re not wrong, either—even though Rachel played them all.

She continues to pretend she’s disabled, and while Khun most definitely has his suspicions about Rachel and what went down in that bubble, what he doesn’t have is proof, so he holds his tongue as Yu transports the surviving examinees up to the Tower to begin their clumb.

As for Bam, he’s not really dead, but was held in a bubble of shinsu until everyone else was gone. Then Hwaryun releases him and offers to continue training him to climb the Tower, if he still seeks answers at the top. Bam responds that he doesn’t think there are any answers up there, but he’ll search for them as he climbs anyway, because…well, what else does he have going on?

That’s honestly a lot of vague cliched “what will you do” platitudes at the end there, which aren’t very enticing considering how relatively little happened in these past thirteen episodes, and how no Tower climbing at all took place. There’s a certain feeling of arrogance that an audience will simply keep letting itself get strung along a la Attack on Titan, season after season, year after year…and as a newcomer to the series ToG just didn’t develop the clout to do that.

That said, I don’t see what will possibly stop me from tuning back in if and when the anime adaptation of ToG continues. Perhaps this really does mark the end of the beginning, and that an end—teased at the very end with what I assume to be an older, longer-haired Bam standing triumphantly near the corpse of a monster with a color palette similar to Rachel’s—may someday come.

I just won’t hold my bread that we’ll see that end in that next season. But perhaps we’ll finally see the Tower, a bit of climbing, and learn more about why those things are so important. Also Rak eating more chocolate bars. Till then, I’ll be sure to drink my Ovaltine.

By: braverade

[boilingdroid]

A Loud Canvas

Rating: G Pairing: Markus and Connor (vague pining) Summary: Markus invites Connor over to come try out painting. Things are going well, until Connor begins to lose himself in the art, and not in a good way.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742600

Notes: hi i had this idea a few weeks ago and wouldn't stop thinking about it and if i wanna indulge in content like this i have to do it mySELF. RA9 is a bitch

Adjusting to a new way of life after the revolution isn’t easy for everyone, be they human or android. Everyone came from different walks of life, their choices shaping everything around them and the people who would love or loathe them. Some humans still had their prejudices, some androids had their own traumas to mull over. Either way, Markus had become a hero, a shining new beacon, a bastion of hope for the androids, and the future was bright and promising.

Connor was grateful for his freedom, the entire world looking so different with these new eyes. To be alive, to feel alive -- it was something he accredited fully to Markus for setting him free. The thought of it is still one Connor hasn’t been able to fully process and dissect; Markus, held at gunpoint, still made an effort to reach out to him. Markus, after witnessing the destruction of Jericho, a massacre brought on by Connor, still saw a hope in him, still trusted him, still welcomed him. Even after Amanda had nearly seized control of Connor’s program and killed Markus before hundreds of freed androids, Markus held no resentment, no fear, no worry.

Had the roles been reversed, Connor would not have hesitated to kill.

He shoves these thoughts down, focusing back on the present as he took a few breaths to cool his systems. It had been several months since all of it had happened, and he stood now beside Markus as he always has since then, returning a favor. Guarding him. Watching for him. Like a loyal guard dog. Markus seems to catch the look on his face, and he puts a comforting hand on Connor’s shoulder, smiling gently.

“You don’t have to be tense all the time, you know,” Markus says, his eyes glancing briefly at the LED at Connor’s temple. “It’s safe here.”

Connor looked around the home. Expensive, frivolous, full of so much art and books -- seeing Manfred’s home in person at last made him understand Markus so much more. But still, he remembered hearing that this was where Markus died, and he wondered how he could be so calm leading Connor to the studio when he himself could barely even look down a skyscraper after his own death. It keeps him on edge.

The doors slide open, and there are canvases filled everywhere, most unfinished, others full of so much color. Markus watches Connor carefully, smiling a little to himself as Connor’s LED shifts to a curious yellow, scanning each piece. Connor broke down each stroke, identifying which were Manfred’s art style, and the others with the flourish only Markus knew how to create. His HUD lights up, picking out every detail by the millisecond; the magazines left behind, the age of some of the canvases, dust left on some of the countertops, dried oils and acrylics. His stress rises, however, when he manages to catch just the faintest trace of thirium left in the pavement. He could tell someone made an effort to scrub it clean. A human eye wouldn’t be able to detect it, and he wagers, neither would Markus anyways; his model is far more advanced than Markus’, able to pick up the scene and deconstruct it with ease. A blessing, when on missions, but right now, only a curse.

Markus had turned his back just before seeing Connor pick up on the scene, oblivious to the detective work. He hums a song quietly as he reaches for a blank canvas, propping it on the easel and setting up a palette of paints. Connor eventually rejoins him, head tilting slightly as he watches Markus mix the colors.

“Ever since Carl taught me to paint, it’s been something I haven’t been able to stop,” Markus says as he approaches, already beginning to fill in the white spaces of the canvas. “Didn’t get to make much when I led Jericho, but now I paint whenever I get the chance. It’s… calming.”

He can’t help but be a little amused at how Connor paid so much attention to each stroke, his LED at a stable yellow as he processes it. Markus is able to create art much faster than a human -- the perks of being an android -- but the speed never took away from the artwork itself. It wasn’t long until the near surreal piece was done. A full moon overhead a sea, except it appeared to be bleeding thirium blood, and the sea appeared as though it were being held by a pair of android hands.

Markus steps back to look over the piece, turning to Connor expectantly. Connor seemed fully invested in the artwork, his gaze lingering on it for a while until the LED finally spun blue.

Markus smirks. “What do you think?”

Connor gave it another glance before meeting Markus’ eyes. “There’s a part of me tempted to comment on how the moon can’t bleed,” He says, humor in his voice. “But it’s intriguing. Very much so.”

Connor had silently stored the memory of this painting into his long-term storage. He would think on this later.

An amused huff is all Markus responds with, and he moves to replace the canvas, setting his painting to dry to the side. Then, with a bit of a flourish, he hands the palette of paint to Connor. The action was unexpected, and it stumps him for a moment, simply staring at the brush and paint as its offered to him.

“Hey, come on now,” Markus teases, holding it closer to Connor until he took it. “Aren’t you a bit curious what you can make? I know I am.”

Holding the palette and brush felt so… foreign to Connor. Seeing Markus work with it was far different than this, and he finds himself shaking his head, trying to give it back.

“This is more your thing, Markus,” Connor says, internally questioning why his thirium pump seemed to have kicked a notch. “I was designed with forensics and investigative work in mind, my software specifically intended for police and --”

“Right, and I’m a domestic android who led a revolution,” Markus teases, poking at Connor’s shoulder. “You’re not bound by your creators anymore, Connor.”

Connor nods slowly, holding up the brush the same way he had seen Markus do so. Markus steps aside so he could stand before the canvas, processing. He samples the data of the times he had watched Markus create art, trying to figure out where he would begin. None of Markus’ paintings made entire sense to him, let alone the thirium moon he had just witnessed, and Connor found it rather silly that he would stand here before this inanimate, blank canvas, and feel intimidated by it.

Markus’ gentle voice fills the silence. “I was daunted by the idea of painting too when I first started,” He reminisces, garnering Connor’s full attention. “Don’t think too hard about it. It’s about… your emotion, paint what you feel.” He stood close to Connor, and damn him, Connor’s thirium pump continues to betray him. Markus sweeps his hand out towards the canvas, as if painting with just his gesture. “Interpret the world, improve on it, show what you see.”

Connor nods at this, looking between his blue and green eyes. Markus only offers a reassuring smile, and he has to turn away else another biocomponent of his starts complaining at the sight of it. “Alright,” Connor says, dipping the brush in black paint with three taps, just as Markus usually did. “... Walk me through this?”

Markus recalls Carl’s words to him, taking an unneeded breath as he watches Connor mimic him. It was funny in a way; Connor taking up this role while Markus tries to repeat the words Carl had given. It was like singing a song off key.

“Close your eyes for me,” Markus says, watching Connor’s flutter shut. There’s a bit of excitement he finds, anticipating what he might witness, but he keeps it tampered down. “Imagine… something that doesn’t exist, or something you’ve never seen. Concentrate on how it makes you feel and just… let your hand drift across the canvas.”

Connor remains silent, standing stiff in that odd, prim way he always held himself. There’s a long moment of hesitation before Connor lets the brush make contact, sweeping strokes filling the canvas with black streaks. Several times he opens his eyes to see where he’s going, nose twitching ever so slightly when the paint gave out on him and he needed to refresh it. It takes him a while to get accustomed to this, but luckily, androids don’t get tired, and Markus is more than happy to stand there the entire duration as Connor figures it out.

The first paintings start off relatively abstract. Blacks, greys, blues and reds are streaked across with no general guidance or direction aside than to just be on the canvas. A few strokes that were intended to be straight come out horrendously wobbly, much to Connor’s dismay. He starts over several times, repainting the canvas back to black, each attempt beginning to take more form and shape as he paints. He was learning and improving right before Markus’ eyes, and it was fascinating to watch. Markus wonders if this was what it was like for Carl when he watched him paint for the first time.

One hour, and twelve minutes pass since Connor began, and Markus can finally see a solid picture beginning to form. He still stuck with the same four colors, but now, they were working for him, values becoming present as Connor tapped into something within him. Grey streaks -- buildings, skyscrapers, he realizes, frames the canvas, the eye drawn to the bright rooftop at the bottom center, as if watching the scene from a bird’s eye view. Markus’ brows furrow as he watches the art begin to take form and shape, what he assumes to be a pixelated helicopter coming to life at the top, shining a light down on a figure at the rooftop while flares and strokes of red and blue pitter and patter in muffled tones around the scene. Connor’s controlled brushstrokes slowly become harsher, more energized than before, detailing a figure on the rooftop. Markus moves closer to peer at it, painted pixels forming the RK800 standing at the edge of the roof, and suddenly, Markus is filled with a wave of unease.

Paint is flicked here and there as the brush strokes become more fervent, the art coming together quicker than he was managing before. Armed soldiers all stood facing the painted Connor as he too faced them, despair in his features, red LED glowing to a broken halo that leaked and bled to the ground. Lights shone down on him, guns pointed towards him -- he holds himself hostage, his own pistol aimed at his head. Horrifically beautiful, an art piece that he knows that, if it were to be displayed at a gallery, would have the rich humans cooing and speaking over it with their wines.

But it didn’t feel right. From where Markus stood, he could see the angular features of Connor’s face were pulled taut in stress, eyes were fully shut, and as Markus circles Connor so he stood to his right, and he catches sight of the LED at his temple glowing an alarming shade of red, pulsing with every stroke he made. Every stroke, angry, shaky, losing the control and restraint he had seen earlier.

“Connor?” He calls to him. Connor doesn’t seem to acknowledge him in the slightest, and he doesn’t react when Markus puts a hand to his shoulder. Markus didn’t need to interface with him to notice that his stress levels were rising by the second, and he gives a gentle shake. “Connor, hey, you don’t need to keep going.”

He still doesn’t stop. Whatever it was he was trying to say with this needed to be out. He was caught in a trance, still moving and swaying a beat that wasn’t his own. His teeth grit, the red paint he was adding to the color near the rendition of himself suddenly spikes out, a streak of the red cutting through the skyscrapers and smearing against the greys and blacks. His cheeks were slick with tears, and as if he were possessed, his strokes change entirely. He wasn’t painting anymore, no -- this was a font. He was writing, ruining the canvas, red text over the skyscrapers and the lights. ‘RA9’, on repeat, again, again, again--

“Connor!”

Markus took hold of Connor’s face in his hands, and his eyes fly open, taking gasping for air to cool down systems he hadn’t realized were overheating. The palette drops from his hand, and he grasps Markus instinctively, grounding himself without thinking. Strings of errors clog up his system, and he takes several slow breaths before everything returned back to normal, focusing again on what was in front of him.

And oh god, Markus was right in his face.

“There you are,” Markus says, relief clear in that gentle voice of his, hands still cupping Connor’s cheeks. “Are you alright? I… I didn’t mean for this to stress you.”

Connor is keenly aware of how Markus brushes away the tears that had run down his cheeks, and he can’t stop questioning why it happened. There was no outward trigger, no real danger, and yet his entire system was poised for combat, defensive maneuvers online and ready to act, and yet he felt so unstable in the midst of it. There was something grounding about Markus being there, however, though the closeness was not something he was accustomed to. At the very least, his stress levels were beginning to reel back enough for stability.

“I.. I don’t know why I did that…” Connor says, looking back to his canvas. RA9. He recalls his previous investigations on the deviants, and how they had all frantically wrote this script on the walls, or anywhere they could get a pen to. He can feel the scripts that ran in the background and the anomalies that became present upon deviancy repeat, a sensation that would come close to that of a headache. The code continues to echo in his head, and he’s very careful to set down the paintbrush he still held so that he didn’t end up writing it again. “I… wasted your paints. I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine,” Markus reassures, backing away to give Connor some space. He stoops down to fetch the palette that fell, looking back to the painting with worry. He was relieved Connor responded at all -- he’d seen other androids in Jericho reach a state similar to what he just witnessed, and it never failed to frighten him. Connor still stared at his canvas, his LED still red and cheeks still wet.

It was so strange, he thought, to see Connor this way. Connor, who always kept himself so eerily calm, prim and proper, who never let anyone see or think they had the upper hand. Connor, who carried himself with power, who could track down and hunt enemies with ease, who knew how to preconstruct skirmishes and fights and predict an outcome that he would come victorious. Connor, who had proven he would take a bullet or twelve for anyone he cared for. Connor, who now stood in his home, looking uncharacteristically lost and confused, with an art piece that said so much yet so little about who he was. Markus didn’t know how to process it.

Connor seems to pick up on this, and he holds his head up, carrying himself as if nothing had happened at all. Only his LED betrays him. “One of my earliest memories,” He says, gesturing to the canvas. “Philips apartment, 70th story, August 15, 2038. A PL600 took a little girl hostage -- CyberLife deployed me to tackle the situation. As one of my first missions, I have a tendency to revisit the memory… deconstruct it and rerun the numbers and success probabilities.”

Connor blinks several times, a defect of his as a result of being a prototype. He gestures to the art vaguely, and though Markus still hadn’t quite figured out how to read Connor entirely, he could tell that there was something heavy weighing in on him. He listens intently as he continues.

“Ever since my deviancy, I’ve thought again about that android. Daniel. I wondered if I would have done the same. What would have become of me had I been in his stead.” Connor says aloud. He runs a thumb over the still wet paint, staring down at the red that smeared on his synthetic skin. The algorithm rings in his head again, and he backs away, resisting the urge to frantically write again. “Art… is…. interesting.”

Connor looks up at Markus, doe-eyes searching him curiously. His LED was now settling back to a yellow with glimpses of blue, and he had the need to fidget and rid himself of the excess energy he had produced. Markus reaches out, hesitating only for a moment as he ponders his actions, and simply rests a hand on his shoulder. The touch is welcomed, and for a moment they just look to the painting silently.

“I understand if you don’t want to do this again,” Markus says at last, breaking the silence. “If I had known it would upset you like this, I wouldn’t have --”

“Actually,” Connor interrupts, looking to Markus and realizing that there was paint left on him. He tries to wipe it off his shirt with a finger. “As… strange as this was, I don’t think I despised it. If anything, I feel like it… helped me.”

Markus blinks a few times, but cracks a small smile. “Humans do find art to be therapeutic in a sense.”

Connor shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe it could do without the red paint everywhere. Perhaps I should have made a bleeding sun to compliment yours.”

They both chuckle lightly at that, and Connor is quick to take hold of the canvas he ruined and sets it aside, hoping not to look at it any further. There was something to this art, he supposes, and he had a newfound respect for it. He gave the studio another scan, now looking to the artwork with a different appreciation. The abstract faces, the bleeding moon, the flowers and rivers, the portraits of neon colors -- he wouldn’t be opposed to learning more about it.

“Well, you know,” Markus says, facing him fully. “You’ll always have another chance.”

That damn smile.

[reformedkingsmanagent]

{Batter Up} 1/?

(yes I know this is NOT Charlie and I’m so sorry for that but my pre-endgame jitters mean my old hyperfixation with cap is back in full force so I’m sorry!! Also I won’t post spoilers, so don’t worry about that. I’m sticking firmly with my pre-endgame thoughts. obviously though after 12:30am EST on Saturday, feel free to MESSAGE ME YOUR EVERY THOUGHT ABOUT IT.) alright, well...I hope you like it, at least a little bit. let’s see how far my current momentum takes me with this (and thanks @missredherring for the idea).

***

“You need a distraction. I’ve never seen you this self-destructive, Steve. You’re going.” “Don’t you think there’s more important things I should be doing?” “I don’t see you doing them.”

***

“Does anyone have any questions? No? Alright then, let’s get back to it.”

Noise filled the room as everyone got situated, focused on the task at hand.

All Steve saw was an empty canvas. It sat there, waiting on the easel, just to spite him. “Whose dumb idea was this,” he sighed to himself, getting up off the stool. His intentional lack of progress was starting to become obvious to everyone else. Heaven help whoever decided to ask him about it.

No. Relax. Otherwise you’ve wasted your time here.

He knew it wasn’t dumb, there was great benefit in creatively expressing grief and other strong emotions, but it felt wrong to be here while everyone else sat in a void somewhere, out of reach. What would he tell Bucky when he brought him back?

‘Hey, sorry I took so long, I decided to join a therapy group where we paint our feelings. Thanks for being so patient.’

If. If he brought him back.

“Tell me what this division means. Why is it so stark in comparison to everything else?”

The small woman studied the canvas beside Steve, listening in great detail to his neighbor’s explanation.

“...it’s all about balance, like how everything ended up split right down the middle…”

Balance. Balance. Balance. Oh God—

Steve didn’t notice he was making a fist until the brush snapped like a twig in his hand. He didn’t even remember picking it up.

The group leader laid a gentle hand on his neighbor’s shoulder, trying to urge him back to his canvas so he wasn’t openly gawking at Steve’s reaction.

“Mr. Rogers, I seem to remember you working on the same blank canvas last week.”

Steve bit back his impulsive response. How could she know how little he wanted to be here? How it felt to be tossed aside by the very monster who did this, who made this group necessary? To be borderline complicit in the sudden disappearance of 50% of the world’s population?

“What emotion is prevailing today?” She could read it in his face.

“Anger.” He bit the inside of his cheek. Self-loathing.

“What’s a color you associate with anger? You can start there. Just get something out of there.” She tapped the side of her head.

She sighed as he failed to answer, retreating to a cabinet behind him. “For me, it’s red. Wrath. Fury. Blood. That’s obvious. For you, though…” She returned, two tubes of paint in hand. She held them out to him, waiting for his reaction. “I’d imagine it’s a bit different.”

Red and blue. Colors he usually thought of fondly. But together…

He took them hesitantly, setting them on the counter beside him, but not eager to pick up another brush.

“I think if you stopped fighting for once, you’d make some real progress.” She held a new brush out to him, her other hand open, waiting for him to give up the brush he’d snapped in two.

With a deep, meditative breath, he gently set the broken handle into her hand and took the new brush. He spent a good amount of time looking down at it, both ashamed at his lack of control but also still feeling a bit defiant.

What would Tony say about his recent behavior? Would he ever see him again? Would he ever see any of them again?

His friends.

The instructor walked away, hands fiddling with the broken brush as she observed everyone else’s work.

“Can I borrow the blue?”

The voice that interrupted his thoughts was full of hesitation.

As Steve turned to look at the person standing to his left, he saw your eyes go a bit wide. “Only if you’re not using it…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shame washing over him. What kind of unhinged mess was he that he frightened people just by looking at them?

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Here.” He held out the paint to you.

“It’s alright.”

He felt like he should say something more, but he didn’t know what else he could possibly talk about.

So he left it at that.

***

Could you have picked a worse time to try to talk to him?

No. No, you couldn’t have.

Of freaking course you’d waste yet another opportunity to actually carry on a conversation with one of The Avengers. Not that you were a fan, it all seemed so reckless, really, but seeing him in the flesh…

It was a bit of a let-down.

No, really, it was. He looked as defeated as he probably felt, considering everything that’s happened. It’s a wonder he even went out anymore, and to your therapy group, no less.

Though after this session you didn’t think you’d see him back next week.

As you returned your attention to your own mixed emotions smeared across the canvas, you uncapped the blue, pushing some of the paint out onto the palette.

“What does it mean?”

You didn’t realize he’d stepped in behind you. You did your best to disguise your surprise before turning slightly so you could see him out of the corner of your eye. He was quite tall.

He asked you a question.

You could hardly rationalize it to yourself, let alone to someone else. “I’m not exactly sure,” you confessed. “I might’ve started with an idea, but I’m pretty sure I forgot it at some point.” Your canvas was currently a swirl of all sorts of colors, but the center was dark.

Pretty representative of your current state. Nice and bright on the outside, but inside... it was all too much.

“I’m not usually one for abstract pieces, but…”

But?!

“It feels like a place I don’t want to go.”

You frowned, turning to look up at him. You wished you hadn’t. The full weight of his attention was on you and you were now acutely aware of it. His eyes were very blue. “I’m not sure if that’s a critique or a compliment.”

“Is it possible to mean both?” There was almost a fraction of a smile in his eyes, though not in the rest of his face. You got a feeling that the usual Steve Rogers was much more easy-going than this.

“Well it’s got to at least be marginally better than the blank space over there,” you shrugged, gesturing towards his still-blank canvas.

“I’m working on it.”

“Right.” You raised an eyebrow, a smile spreading across your face. “Thank you.” You held out the tube to him, watching him carefully as he reached for it. He was gentle and slow, possibly aware of his imposing presence. As he returned to his seat on the stool you swore you saw the corner of his mouth lift a little.

Don’t.

A few seconds later he stood, heading over to his canvas. You resisted smiling as much as you could as he finally started getting his colors together.

It wasn’t because of you. It has nothing to do with you.

***

He cut in with sketchy black lines, getting something close to a plan on the canvas before he started adding color. He was at a loss of what to paint until you informed him that even you didn’t know. It was all about what he was feeling.

All he wanted was to go back, before everything.

Where would the world be if Steven Grant Rogers from Brooklyn hadn’t taken the serum? Possibly better off? It was easy to argue that now. But he knew if he said as much, there would be plenty of people eager to tell him no. He was never one to sit on the sidelines, either. And despite recent events, there were a lot of other people he’d been able to help.

As hard as it was to be here, he needed to be.

***

“Alright everyone, this was an illuminating hour, why don’t we pick this up next week?”

There was a wave of shuffling, chairs moving, people passing through the center of the room to reach the door. Steve picked up his canvas and moved to the back of the room to lean it up against some of the cabinets, out of the way.

As he went back for his bag, he met you halfway, still hesitant to reach out, but feeling emboldened by his sudden bit of—

“Progress?” you asked, an eyebrow raised as you also headed back to store your canvas. Steve waited for you in between some of the tables.

“Progress,” he conceded, picking at the paint dried on his hands. He looked up in time to see you tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. He realized with a jolt the kind of warm, nervous state he was in. He hadn’t felt like this since—

“Do you feel any better now that you’ve started?”

“I do, actually.”

He fell in step beside you as you returned to gather your things.

“So you’ll be back next week?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he joked, smiling slightly as he followed you to the door. He realized he didn’t have anywhere to go, or at least didn’t have any immediate plans. He felt like if he went back now, he’d lose any progress he made. He couldn’t blame everyone, it was a grave defeat, one he wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover from. He wanted to enjoy this lighter feeling for a little longer.

“It does help, at least a little bit. It’s better than doing nothing and not acknowledging it. At least for me it is.”

“It has its benefits,” he agreed.

He picked up his pace just a little to reach the door first, holding it open for you as you passed through it and into the chilly night air.

He shook his head as you thanked him. “No need.”

***

It took you a moment to realize he was following you. Not following exactly, but letting you dictate where the two of you were going.

He didn’t want to go home, you realized.

“I think I’m gonna stop for a coffee. Do you want to…?”

He watched you point to the door. Realization dawned on him and he pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Sure, yeah, that would be great.”

You pulled the door open before he could get to it and stepped inside. His hand was high above you, keeping it open until he was standing behind you, eyes up towards the menu.

“What do you usually get?”

He smiled at himself. “Oh, I’m pretty boring. I haven’t experimented much, just a regular coffee for me, thank you.”

“What, they didn’t have frappuccinos in the forties?”

“Wow, we’ve been talking for all of five minutes and you’ve already found my deepest insecurities.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“So it’s safe to say you know who I am.” He avoided eye contact, you noticed, watching his eyes scan the board even though he wasn’t going to change his order.

“I don’t know you. I know the most superficial basics about Captain America, or at least what can be found at the exhibit in—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“What, you don’t visit your own exhibit? You’re practically a walking, talking fossil, you should be proud—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupted, his face lighting up. He looked a far cry from the moody, brooding artist back in that room.

You reached out in your laughter and laid a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down. Even through his worn leather jacket you could feel how warm he was.

“Why don’t you pick out a table that allows you to see all the corners, and I’ll go...order you your boring coffee?”

He heard the challenge and his amusement was clear, but he didn’t say anything else. With a nod, he left to find a place to sit. He also left you to stew in your nerves.

What the hell were you doing buying Captain America a coffee on a Tuesday night?

[bonesingerofyme-loc]

Endgame is a movie about payoffs

An incomplete list of all the great ‘payoffs’ in this movie.

Hulk’s character arc/story is resolved offscreen and Hulk as a character is killed off. Shh no tears, only Banner now.

Loki’s death was meaningless

Thor’s character arc/story wasn’t even regressed, it was reset

Tony and Nebula’s relationship went nowhere

Vision’s body was shoved in a closet for five years I guess

Doctor Strange’s 14 million futures and 1 solution relied on a fucking rat

The main six avengers never got to be on screen fighting together

Natasha was killed off and her death is barely mentioned

Red Skull’s presence was revealed to simply be the writers going wOuLdN’t iT Be CoOl rather than having any deeper meaning or reason for it. Boy would it have made sense for the Avengers to maybe talk to the Stonekeeper since they know next to fuck all about the infinity stones. Or maybe resolve the whole ‘Steve and Red Skull’ thing, because it’s not like that was formative conflict for Steve Rogers.

Loki’s death was seriously fucking meaningless

Rocket sort of just existed. What did he do? Nothing. Who did he interact with? Barely anyone.

Gamora’s character arc/story is reset to a blank slate because she is a new person.

Drax’s whole reason for living was revenge and to strike back at Thanos. Never see Drax in Endgame except as part of the exhaustively long checklist of ‘HEY LOOK X PERSON IS HERE’

Clint going on a murderspree doesn’t matter at all except to give a reason why he isn’t in the first part of the movie. It has no bearing on the events and no one ever speaks to Clint about it. He doesn’t even act any differently from the mostly serious and broody Clint of the previous films. There isn’t even any tension about him coming back, Nat just says ‘Hi Clint come back’ and he’s like ‘k’.

Peter Quill, who I don’t even like, has only a single scene in the movie where his entire growth as a character and relationship with Gamora is reduced to stupid physical humor and a joke.

Carol Danvers was pointless. She exists to save Tony and Nebula, which Thor could’ve done with bifrost and to blow up Sanctuary, which could’ve been done far more interestingly. And yet the movie tried to weave her in pretty well by making her part of Natasha’s galactic avengers and then...did nothing with that idea. Was it too hard to consider maybe she shows up with whats left of NovaCorps or some Kree battleships?

Thanos proves that he was jobbing hard in Infinity War. What’s that, Thanos without any infinity stones could easily beat Tony in Mk85, Thor with both his weapons and Steve Rogers? I guess the entire fight on Titan was him just pissing around. It steals all the weight and strength that Infinity War gave the Avengers by showing that Thanos could’ve squashed any of them at any time and was never actually in danger.

‘Stark. You’re not the only one cursed with knowledge.’ What does that mean? Why does Thanos seem to respect him? Fucking who knows, since we see that in the past Thanos only vaguely knew about the Avengers and thought they were dumb nerds. I guess he read about Tony underneath a Snapple lid. 

Back to Natasha’s death - she dies and the movie decides it needs to focus on fucking Bruce of all people, when she and Steve had become very close friends over the past seven years, and from the implications Steve was the only one that actually kept in contact with her post-Snap when the Avengers all retired or fucked off. Fucking Bruce. 

Hey while we’re here, let’s keep up with Steve and his relationships. How about the fact he and Bucky never reunite on screen? How about the fact that all we have gotten between Steve and Bucky since Steve got his best friend back was what, three lines total between Infinity War and Endgame? 

Or how about Steve and Sam! You know, Sam the therapist that helped break Steve out of his shell. Sam the loyal friend who stood by Steve through thick and thin. Sam, who kind of was Steve’s first ‘real’ friend in the modern day. Sam, who only shows up at the end so old Steve who abandoned his friends can chuck him a shield. No reunion. No real meaningful moment. Just hey I’m old take my shield.

Or Steve and Wanda! Did you guys forget that the secret Avengers adopted her? How they were kind of like a family for that time after Civil War, with Steve the Dad and Natasha the Mom and Wanda their adopted weird magical girl? You know, how they took Wanda under their wing and started teaching her and treating her like a real person? Guess they did forget!

What about Valkyrie too, by the way. Valkyrie who spent a thousand years as a cynical drunk and then Thor helped her out of her self-loathing funk in Ragnarok. And then she I guess just said ‘sucks to be you’ and didn’t even try to help him? Or how about that Thor just kind of chucks her the throne like a party favor. Not even like he recognized she earned it or anything, Thor just said ‘hey, fuck my responsibilities I want to go be a failure in space, so take my job lmao’. Nice. I hate Ragnarok with a passion, but for fuck’s sake. 

Nidavellir. Establishes that Eitri is the last of the dwarven forgemasters left, and still has all his knowledge and skill. And that he forged the Gauntlet. And the plans for the Gauntlet are still there. Clearly, that means Tony should just whip together a nanite gauntlet in his basement overnight.

Carol Danvers and Nick Fury. You know, how Captain Marvel set them up as good friends, and then she allegedly shows up wanting to know where he is. Oops. That didn’t make the cut. Or her seeing Fury again after so many years. Double oops. Shit, this is even from the stinger of the last movie these yucks wrote, and they couldn’t even do it. Again - like Gagnarok and others, Cpt. Marvel is not even a movie I liked but COME ON NOW.

The intelligence/wisdom of the infinity stones. The space stone ‘judged’ Red Skull and cast him out. The soul stone has a ‘certain wisdom’. Ultron was made from the intelligence that lurked in the mind stone. Vision was linked to all the other stones and could sense almost a distress from each other stone as Thanos claimed them. NVM, stones destroyed lmao.

Infinity War went out of it’s way to make visually striking and different battle sequences and pulled out all the stops to really showcase powers. We got to see smart and interesting uses of all the stones during the battle on titan. Thanos actually had a wizard duel with Strange, showing that he is so much more than just a brute brawler. He blended caster and bruiser seemlessly. The color palatte was bright and arid, full of reds and oranges and blues and greens, well lit and extremely well choreographed. Tony showcases the amazing functionality of his Mk50 experimental armor. The battle at Avengers compound is dark, a color palette of grey, dark grey, light grey, and brown-grey. The choreography of the fight consisted of ‘surround Thanos and hit him with sticks’. We saw none of the MK85 suit. You know. The LAST suit Tony Stark would ever make. We saw none of Stormbreaker or Mjolnir’s power in Thor’s hands, only the most basic ‘fwoosh lightning’ from when Steve holds it. Where was Thor and his flying, his glowing eyes, Mjolnir-as-a-character that was present in all his fights in the past? Where was Steve’s mixed martial arts and his really acrobatic and distinct fighting style? Where was Tony constantly pulling new weapons and tricks out of his suit? The final fight of the Infinity Saga with the big three, and it’s as inspiring as a mid-aughties superhero duel. Just kind of slamming together and grunting. (I guess all the good fight choreographers were stolen by Alita)

‘I can do this all day’. The iconic line of Steve Rogers in the MCU, a touchstone for his character that is emblematic of his entire life and his drive, that says in six syllables the sum total meaning of what it is to be Captain America. Is played As A Joke.

Pepper Potts, whose character and relationship with Tony Stark to date can be summed up succinctly as ‘Tony no’ while he shouts ‘TONY YES’ now totally agrees with Tony and is all gung-ho about him deciding to risk his life, his daughter’s life, their lives, and the fucking universe to go a-time-travelling. What.

Steven Strange, whose movie was about him struggling to become a sorcerer and let go of his past and his preconceptions as well as the Ancient One seeing potential in him despite his roughness is shown to all be a charade. She actually knew all along he was going to be an OG badass and is so enamored with him that she’s willing to hand away the infinity stone she and her order have protected for millennia at the simple mention of his name.

Acausal time travel. Instead of enriching the previous movies by seamlessly blending into them for the time heist, Endgame goes out of it’s way to say ‘HAHA YEAH NO, THIS IS A BRANCHING TIMELINE’ so when you watch Dark World, Avengers, etc, there’s no intrigue of like ‘oh man, such and such is going on just around the corner’ because they so thoroughly bungled time travel and everything we saw in Endgame breaks the timelines. I can’t believe JK Rowling did a better job creating consistent and coherent time travel that carried narrative weight and tension in a children’s book.

Undoing the snap. All the speculation and theory about how, why, when, what, and it turns out all you have to do is just snap to bring everyone back and then act like the intervening five years of social decay and collapse never happened. 

Theodore Ross is very specifically shown in Infinity War to be the Secretary of State. Hm. A character who’s always been an antagonist, always against the avengers...in a high ranking government position...right before 50% of the population is dusted...right, yeah, nothing. Not the President after the snap. 

The snap itself. Smash cut to 5 years later, show some quick flybys and pay a bit of lip service to ‘oh yeah things are bad’ but that’s it. Don’t investigate it. Don’t show us how bad things are. Don’t explore it. In fact, everything seems pretty ok. People are still playing Fortnite five years later and cheerfully dabbing and taking selfies, so it’s all good right? Not like half of all life vanished instantly over night and the world is supposed to be falling apart. Nah.

Tony Stark’s death. Did he die to bring back the universe? Did he die to save his friends? Did he die to save his daughter or his family? Nope, he killed himself to kill the already beaten Thanos and his final words were all about himself. bUt ThE cAlLbAcK

Thanos. Killed off. Replaced by a cartoon villain version of himself. The Thanos that is the main antagonist that the Avengers beat? Not the Thanos who we got to know and who starred as the center of Infinity War.

Nebula. Best character in the film. Has no conclusion. No catharsis or reaction to Thanos’ death.

Groot. Split second shot of him and Rocket. No reunion.

Groot, again, and the rest of the Guardians. No chance to see Rocket’s reaction to the realization his entire family is gone or the effect it has on him. What was that scene in Infinity War? “Me? I got a lot to lose. I got a lot.” No relevance.

Stormbreaker. Major plotpoint of Infinity War. OP axe forged by Thor nearly sacrificing his life to a star. Yeets through a blast from a full-stone gauntlet. Is just a beatstick in Endgame, does nothing.

Infinity stones, again. Infinity War made them front and center, showing their many uses and delving deeper into the lore of them. Endgame makes them paperweights that can only snap.

I could go on and on and on. This is just off the top of my head, right now. Payoffs? I guess if you count the writers violently elbowing you in the ribs and shouting HEY ITS THAT SCENE FROM THAT OTHER MOVIE like you’re a drooling idiot as a ‘payoff’ it’s ripe with them, but actual meaningful payoff for a decade of characters and storytelling? Hah. No.

Edit: I will continue to update this as I think of/recall more examples