#and i think rearranging my room has helped too... a nice change of perspective

[99probalos]

havent updated in a while i think... im up to 5.6k words :] ive been trying to pace myself and stick to a schedule so i don't burn myself out or worry too much about perfectionism and its working pretty well. i think for the first week of writing or so i was on autopilot but ive really been in the Zone recently. i really like how the story is shaping up so far.

currently writing the introduction of the battlepack, and thusly, the aliens...

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

You Tried To Change The Ending

Bucky x reader

"I knew you, stepping on the last train, marked me like a bloodstain;

I knew you, tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy"

Summary: You love him, but he made it clear he didn't want anything to do with you. Can a trip to the future give him a new perspective about the present?

Word count: 3,834

Warnings: a hint of fluff, angst, just angst with a happy ending

A/N: this is for the Time Travel Fic challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld I chose the prompt "they are future you. And they are looking at me the way I have wished you would look at me." With Bucky Barnes. I don't know what has gotten into me lately but I have been writing so much angst like what the fuck? I am a fluff kinda gal! but I hope you enjoy this!

A/N 2: thank you for @lehuka123 and @ayybtch for beta reading this mess!

PS. This has an alternate ending

 --

You stood there in the middle of his room, he looked at you expectantly. There you showed up at his door, in the middle of the night, and here he was, waiting for you to talk about what you wanted to. You wouldn't have woken him up from a peaceful sleep for nothing- that much he knew, he wasn't getting those most nights and you were always so understanding, so now he was waiting for you to explain, looking at you and trying to figure out if you're hurt somehow.

You knew he wouldn't hurt you, you were friends and he was Bucky who is so warm and nice- but still, the room felt cold and you were too afraid to say it when he was looking at you like that. His ice cold eyes reading into your soul. So you closed your own eyes.

"I love you" Silence overtook the room, engulfing you completely in dread.

You opened your eyes to see him staring at you, eyes wide but in a blink of an eye- they changed. The cold ice now cut you, it burned you.

"I don't feel the same way Y/N, I think it would be best if you leave." He stood tall now, intimidating you.

You lowered your eyes, you didn't expect him to say anything back but- you weren't ready for this. It broke you, but you tried to appear strong.

"Can we still be friends?" you glanced at him again. You spent some nights here with him in this room, just talking and watching movies, you loved being here but now all you wanted to do was get out. What you saw in his eyes scared you.

"We are teammates Y/N, nothing more" his tone was mocking now. "Did you really think I would love you back?" his voice was sharp now.

"No, I didn't. I just thought maybe we could-" but then you stopped yourself when you finally recognized the look in his eyes. You lowered your gaze and you all but ran out of his room "Forget it. I'm sorry I bothered you."

He didn't look like your Bucky, he looked like the soldier.

It was clear he didn't want anything to do with you, so you stayed away. You didn't acknowledge him when you saw him in the kitchen, or when you were just sitting and talking with Natasha. She noticed the change in dynamics but it wasn't her place to speak up. In the gym you were too afraid to be there when he was, when cap asked the two of you to spar. It was awkward enough for you when Bucky voiced out his distaste, you didn't want to be humiliated like that again. You shook the thoughts from your head.

 The sad thing is that when you love someone, even if they don't love you back, your love for them doesn't just cease. You still loved Bucky even after that night when you cried yourself to sleep.

"Sir?" you knocked on the door of director Fury's office.

"Agent Y/L/N yes, what is this about?" the man motioned for you to take a sit at one of the chairs in front of him.

"Sir, I wanted to talk to you about the future missions that I'm on," you kept a steady voice and blank eyes, after all you are a trained spy and so you sucked it up and didn't let it get to you. You learned to just forget what happened, you didn't need to feel it. "I saw that on some of them I will be going with Sergeant Barnes, I wanted to request if I could be reassigned with someone else for these missions?"

Fury eyed you then, studying you. You could only imagine how that sounds yet you refused to lower your eyes.

"Is there some problem with pairing you with Barnes? You are a damn good team in the field." He stated.

"We are not on good terms and he wouldn't want to be assigned with me, so as to not compromise the missions I would like to be reassigned please."

Fury didn't take all the bullshit that was coming out of your mouth just now, so he mulled it over.

"Y/N you should not let personal issues get in the way of missions, you are one of my finest agents, you should know better!" You slightly winced at the scolding with your first name "The next mission is extremely delicate, I trust the two of you to complete it. However, there are some small missions that we can rearrange, those missions are harmless. So let's start with talking about the missions scheduled for the next week."

You smiled at Fury shortly, and the two of you talked about future missions. All you had to do was get through this one mission. From what you read, it is an important one, but you knew you could be professional- it was a big one and you wouldn't let yourself fail.

 "I don't want any changes done. Go there, don't interact, get what we need, and then get out. Is that clear?" Steve told both you and Bucky as you stood on the small platform, your suits ready to go.

"Crystal clear, Cap" you told the blond who just looked at you, not amused as you smirked.

Bucky nodded to his friend and before you knew it, the two of you were sent forward in time- just a few years away, to your parallel timeline.

In the blink of an eye, and a slight headache, you found yourself at the tower. You recognized the alley just outside of it.

"Great, we are not too far. Now we need to get disguises there and get the files that we need." Bucky said to you. You only nodded.

You were definitely going to tease Stark about how easily the two of you were able to get a hold of security guards outfits, just in case someone will recognize the two of you. You made your way through the tower when you stopped in front of a briefing room.

"Y/N what are you doing?" Bucky called you as you went inside the empty room and grabbed a tablet.

"I'm just checking to see something." You told him and he sighed, standing at the door with the black suit and armor.

"Well, can you do it faster? We have a job to do!" he whisper yelled at you and you spared him a glance, his eyes were still cold ever since that day.

"I found it. Okay, I'm just looking at the mission schedule to see if our other selves are out on a mission." He stayed quiet and let you continue. "Okay, I am not on any missions but I am not in the building either, but it seems like you are- or you might be. It states that it's not known if you returned or not yet."

"Okay so I will keep this helmet on, in case we run into him" you nodded and exited the room with him.

The two of you went to the file room where the files you were looking for were stored. Well, where they should be stored.

"I can't find them anywhere!" you said to a silent Bucky. He was stern and distanced with you through the mission, and you were frustrated that it got complicated. "Stark must have read it wrong, maybe it is in his private lab, that's just a floor up"

You didn't wait for a response and went out with Bucky and headed for the lab.

"It will be quicker through here." Bucky said, voice a little muffled from the mask, he pointed to the way of the common room. You knew it went straight to the avenger's private elevator, but it was risky, in case anyone was there.

Your wish to get this over with fast took over your better judgment.

"Hey, Jarvis? Is there anyone in the common room right now?" you asked the AI, you figured he would tell you, he knows you are here anyways.

A few moments of silence passed and you waited and bit your lip. He used to be quicker.

"No."

"Thank you Jarvis!" you said to the lovely AI.

You opened the door and went inside, Bucky followed behind you, taking off his mask.

The room was empty, it had only a couple of changes but it was still familiar

You walked cautiously through the large space when footsteps neared and there stood in front of you James Buchanan Barnes. His hair was cut shorter now, a bit spikier but it most certainly was a look for him. You stared at him with wide eyes as he looked between you and Bucky.

You lowered your gaze, letting your Bucky handle it since you knew either of them won't be glad to see you.

"Y/N?" came his soft voice, you slowly raised your eyes up to meet his as he stared at you.

But when he looked at you, you saw something different about him.

His look was soft, scared. His eyes were glossy right in front of you. That's when you realized what you saw beyond his eyes- love.

You kept your stare at him when your Bucky leaned in to whisper to you.

"Is that me?" he saw the different haircut and arm.

"He is future you. And he is looking at me the way I have wished you would look at me." You whispered and took a shuddering breath before stepping forward a bit.

"Hi, Bucky, I realize that you may be confused right now, but we are not enemies. I'm Y/N from a different timeline, and so is he." You tried to explain, you probably looked different now too, just like he is different from your Bucky. "We came from the past, all we need are just a couple of files, you are two years ahead of us. We will take them and leave."

You tried your best to explain, but he still looked at you, clueless. You looked over at your Bucky for some help but his posture remained steady, eyes still focused on the strange man in front of him. He was different from Bucky in everything but one thing. He recognized the look in his eyes.

Before he could say anything, the man lunged forward, but instead of attacking, you felt his arms surrounding you.

Maybe in this universe things were different, you mused as he engulfed you in a tight hug. This brought an onslaught of emotions that you weren't sure you were ready to deal with, so slowly you pulled him away from you within arm's reach.

The look of confusion in your eyes and the nervous smile you shot him seemed to have taken him aback.

His eyes travelled behind you to the long haired man in front of him. He took a step back.

"So, you are here from the past?" he asked you. You were still confused by him but nodded and went to add but Bucky cut you.

"Yes. We need some files that we don't have. We will be on our way once this is over." You looked down, yet another reminder of him.

"Tell me about it" he said and put his hand on your shoulder, startling you. You wished you could evade those intense eyes that seemed to follow you.

 James was walking the two of you to Tony's private lab. You couldn't say you were surprised when it was messy as ever. At least one thing is a constant in every universe.

"Okay"

But it wasn't enough for this Bucky.

He went towards you, and you could feel his hand caressing your arm, trailing his fingers up and down it. He could barely breathe.

"Okay, Barnes I take the right side, you take the left." You barely waited for your Bucky to answer before you went and started to sort through the different files on the desks and in the drawers. You could feel his gaze on you, unwavering. It felt odd. You couldn't understand it. You looked up at him and met his gaze. His eyes were still intense and glazed. Why you couldn't figure out. You settled for a small shy smile before you went back to your files.

"Can I help you," he asked you, and you could see his eyes lingering on you, on every part of you. "Y/N?"

"No, no I am fine. Thank you though." You looked at his hand on yours, and took a step back and turned around to look through the other drawers. His jaw clenched. You could still feel his eyes on you, finally exhaling a sigh of relaxation when you heard his footsteps back away.

He moved through to the other side of the room, grabbed Bucky and turned him around, keeping you in his line of sight from across the room, unaware of the two men as you searched for the files.

"She told you, didn't she?" James went straight to the point, looking at his past self with clear distaste. He will never forgive him.

"What?" Bucky looked at him, he could barely recognize himself.

"She told you she loves you, right? And you pushed her away like a damn coward. I know you're scared, but please don't shut her out and lose her because you will regret it for the rest of your life." Bucky looked up and stood defensively in front of his future self. But this was a different universe.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Bucky quickly shut him up, going to move behind him but James stopped him and Bucky looked up to see his glazed eyes.

"We both know you love her. You are going to lose her, don't take your time with her for granted, and tell her how you feel!"

"We are from different timelines, you should know this. How would you know if I have feelings for her?" James laughed lowly at that, he lowered his head and spoke bitterly.

"Because I know that there is no timeline, not even one, where we don't love her. I lost her, but you- you can still fix it." Bucky saw the desperation in his eyes.

Bucky clenched his jaw, he did not need a lecture about you. He got plenty of that from Steve already. But even his future self is wrong. He can't let himself love you, he won't. It will cost too much, not only for him, but for you. He looked back up to see James looking at you as you moved and searched- unaware of their conversation. Bucky saw it all, and it scared him. He saw the love in James' eyes, he saw disbelief and overall- sadness. Then those cold eyes landed on him.

"Well I'm sure she will be happy with whoever he is."

"No, you're going to lose her if you keep pushing her away. She's going to go on a mission alone without you and then you- I lost her" James' voice wavered and broke, Bucky was taken aback by the raw emotion his own self was showing now out in the open. "I lost her, we found her dead in the ruins, she went alone because she thought I wouldn't want to go with her on a mission that's supposed to be safe and easy. Don't let it happen to you."

"Found it!" your voice chimed as you rose up. "Let's go Barnes."

The two supersoldiers turned to look at you, two separate stares that were so different. You just couldn't quite place it.

"Please." James begged Bucky and it was only then that Bucky found himself in the stranger. He could see the broken man in the broken stare. He was broken for a different reason now.

Bucky gulped and followed along James who followed more closely to you, guiding you along to where you wanted to go. It took Bucky a moment to catch up with you.

It's a different timeline and universe.

He went with you and James until you were back where you came from. Just about to leave when James goes ahead and hugs you.

You are surprised by his tight hug, but you decided to hug him back. As you stepped back you saw the emotions in his eyes, you didn't understand so a short smile would do, before the two of you came back to the present.

It's a different timeline with a different ending.

James wept the minute you disappeared in front of him, he decided to pick up flowers before going to visit you. It was almost the two year mark anyway.

 You didn't say anything when you walked to the elevators with Bucky. He cleared his throat when the door closed behind you.

"So," he started a conversation with you to your surprise. "What are you doing this weekend?"

His face turned pale when he looked at you- head forward as you tightened your ponytail before exiting the elevator to your floor.

"Oh, I'll be out on a solo mission, so nothing much"

Without a goodbye.

It was a different timeline, right?

He went back to his room, sitting down on the bed, forgoing showering he took off his armor and laid his arms on his thighs, head falling down.

He knew what was going to happen before he even felt the sting behind his eyes, he knew his look would match the look of his future self.

 Bucky decided to go up to your floor. You yelped when he barged into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

He was scared as hell, more scared than he'd been his entire life. He couldn't help the frustrated breakdown, torn by the knowledge.

"What the-" you turned around to the intruder, surprised to see Bucky standing there; you really thought this was done with. After that mission you wouldn't have to deal with this mess anymore.

"Don't go." Was all he said.

"Don't go on that mission."

"What? You're not making any sense, what are you doing here? Get out, we're not friends you made that very clear" He didn't budge.

"Why won't I go on that mission?" you were more confused than angry right now. "It's not a decision"

"Don't go alone, please" the desperation in his voice only annoyed you more. Scratch that, you were angrier now.

"Look, we are not friends, you said that. I have no idea what you're talking about but it's an easy mission, I know you wouldn't want to go on a stupid mission with me for nothing so I'm going alone, it's not a problem!"

"You are not going alone." He took a step towards you and you swallowed, you've worked so hard to not be near him and then he decides to make it harder for you. From all the anger, you missed his glassy eyes.

"And why the hell not?" you asked and he then snapped at you.

"Because I can't lose you, I can't I can't." he dropped to his knees in front of you and held onto your thighs, his face buried in your stomach but through the muffled sounds you heard his sobs. You stood there frozen in place.

"Don't go, please don't go. Don't leave me, stay with me. Please, please Y/N"

You were both confused and worried at the same time, the anger dispersed into nothing. You couldn't make sense of his words. Him asking you to stay with him? Saying he can't lose you? Not knowing what to do you carded your fingers through his hair, raking your fingernails on his scalp, and trying to calm him down.

"Hey, Bucky it's okay I'm here. Please can you explain to me what's wrong?" his sobs calmed down just by a bit. He wasn't loud now but you could still feel the tears staining your shirt, the grip on your thighs tight.

"Just don't go, okay? Please Y/N I love you, I love you I can't lose you." That made you falter, your thoughts cut out to silence. You heard his sobs and your own racing heartbeat.

"What?" you stared at his head, his face still hidden. Bucky's breaths were heavy and still unsteady, he stopped crying. "You don't need to make stuff up Bucky, I won't go, you don't need to lie okay? I won't go."

He shook his head against you. His hands now travelled to your hips, still holding you, he leaned back a bit to look at you. Your heart broke at the sight.

"I'm not lying, I do love you, I love you so much Y/N it scares me; please believe me and don't go on that mission. Please. Even if you hate me after everything I said- it's okay, but just don't go. I lied, I did, I said I didn't love you but that's not true, I love you so much and I-" He bit his lip as more tears came out and another heartbreaking sob pierced through, your own eyes getting teary just from seeing him in this state, you put your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. "I can't stand you getting hurt. I don't deserve you, I'll hurt you and you'll get hurt because of me and I can't watch that because I love you. But please don't go on that mission."

"Bucky-" your own voice was faltering a bit, shocked at his words. He put his head on your stomach again.

"I know you probably hate me, and you have every reason to, but I need you to know that I do, I do feel that way which is why I can't- I won't let you go on that mission. Please just stay here doll, please."

You were quiet for a bit. You took his hands off of you and bent down on your knees to face him. Your hands moved up to his cheeks, lifting his face.

"Then why, why did you say that we couldn't be friends?" you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, it matched the hurt one in yours.

"It would've hurt you"

"This hurt me more" You explained to him.

"I'm sorry" you wiped his tears away.

"It's okay I forgive you," you took a breath, still scared to say it after what happened the first time. "I still love you, that didn't change."

He looked at you steadily, and gently leaned in to kiss you. Just barely. It wasn't rough or full of passion, but it was what you two needed. It was the comfort, the relief, the 'it's going to get better', the 'I promise', the 'stay'.

It was a gentle kiss of a new hopeful beginning.

You parted after a few moments, both of you calmed down now. He let out a content steady breath, a hint of a smile was on his face.

"Please stay with me"

"I will."

 Tags: @callmeluna  @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person  @justab-eautifulmess   @wipplogg  @supraveng  @bucky-the-thigh-slayer  @ayybtch  

[spaceorphan18]

99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #34

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

David Martinez (The Spanish Teacher) 

David Martinez shuffles the papers on his desk, a collection of the Spanish quiz the last class in his day had just finished.  They’re on their way out now, the youngsters of Spanish 302, eager to get out and enjoy their evenings.  He smiles as they leave, many of them waving back and telling him to have a nice day, too.  They’re good kids.  And Mr. Martinez is thrilled that he can teach them the language he loves so dearly.  

After the last one leaves, he opens his desk drawer and pulls out the mirror he keeps there so to examine his teeth.  He can feel a food particle stuck there from lunch, but as he inspects his perfect teeth, he sees nothing there.  Ah well, he’ll have to floss when he gets out to his car.  

“Mr. Martinez?” A voice entering the room startles him, and he quickly puts the mirror back into the drawer and slams it shut.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” 

At first, Mr. Martinez thinks the high-pitched voice belongs to one of the girls, but he looks up to see a boy instead.  A boy dressed wearing bondage straps, like the ones he saw on a dude in a Columbus nightclub years ago, over his otherwise normal looking clothes.  Weird.  

“Hello, what can I do for you?” he says after a second, remembering to smile.  Even if kids are not in his class - he’s always there to help when he can.  

“Mr. Martinez, you don’t really know me, my name is Kurt Hummel,” the boy says.  His eyes are wide, and there’s a bit of awkwardness in his demeanor. The boy is clutching his school books and papers closely to his chest.  He’s probably shy - Mr. Martinez thinks.  Many of the girls are around him. He’s endeared by it. “I’m one of Mr. Schuester’s glee kids.  But I’m not in your class.” 

“Oh, right, I thought I recognized you,” Mr. Martinez replies.  “Are you interested in taking Spanish next year then?” 

The boy’s eyes grow wider.  “Unfortunately, I am a senior, and already taking French.  Though I am clearly regretting all of my life choices right now.” 

Mr. Martinez lets out a choked laugh, not quite sure how to take that.  

“No, I’m here for my boyfriend,” Kurt says.  He manages to rearrange the armful he’s carrying to get out his phone, and hold it up, showing the picture on the lock screen of a well dressed boy wearing an eye-patch whom Mr. Martinez has never seen before.  Kurt looks proudly at the photo, giving a little wistful sigh.  “His name is Blaine Anderson, and he’s a part of your second year Spanish class.  Though he hasn’t been in class because a skunk-faced rat-hoe tried to blind him.” 

“Uh…” 

“I am here, dutifully, to collect any homework he might have missed,” Kurt continues.  “He’ll be out for at least another week, so I’m happy to collect any future assignments as well.” 

“Ah,” Mr. Martinez says, as it all comes together.  He jots the student’s name on a post-it.  “Well, I’m still trying to sort out things from taking over for Mr. Schuester.  I’ll take a look at the assignments Blaine needs to hand in for me, and if you can give me until tomorrow, I can get a packet together.  I would not want Blaine to fall behind due to an injury.”  

“That would be amazing, thank you.  You really are wonderful,” Kurt says, making no motion to leave.  

“Um, is there anything else?” 

“Well, yes…” Kurt lingers awkwardly.  “If you don’t mind.” 

“What can I help with?” Mr. Martinez wonders if it might be a social issue -- these young kids are always discussing their lively emotional issues with him, and having dabbled in counseling classes, he tries to help the best he can with his students.  What he doesn’t expect is Kurt to pull out a tattered magazine from one of his binders and plop open a marked page down on his desk.  

“Well,” Kurt starts gathering in a long breath.  “I noticed you have a fantastic grin, and the other day when you were in glee club I was like -- I know that grin, where do I know it? And then I remembered! You were featured in an ad for men’s oral health care in Out Magazine consistently from May of 1997 through June 2002.  I have read all the back issues I could get my hands on.  Anyway, I have one of my favorite issues here -- it’s the issue from July 2000 with Ian McKellen talking about the similarities between playing Magneto and Shakespeare on stage.  And there’s clearly one of your ads right here.  And I was wondering if you minded, if it’s not too much trouble, if you could sign this copy for me.”  

Mr. Martinez looks down at the page of him -- his younger self smiling perfectly back up at him.  Wow.  He hasn’t seen this in years - and had no idea the reach this particular shoot went.  If he had known, he would have secured a better contract.  The things one would change if they had known better…  

Amused, Mr. Martinez takes a Sharpie, and signs his name in the white space.  He’s always happy to oblige a fan even if it is a little strange that this kid has a magazine from over a decade ago.  

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Kurt lets out a squeal of delight, lightly placing his hand on Mr. Martinez’s bicep.  It lingers there for a moment before Kurt quickly retracts.  “Sorry…” 

“Here you go, Kurt,” Mr. Martinez says, before handing over the magazine.  “I’ll have that packet ready to go if you want to pick it up tomorrow, and let Blaine know that if needs any help catching up, I’m happy to do some tutoring after school.” 

“Oh, my god, yes,” Kurt’s eyes go wide again as he stares off into the distance.  

“Kurt?”  

Kurt shakes himself out of it.  “Yes, yes, thank you, Mr. Martinez.  Blaine’s going to love you.  I mean, love the work you do.  I mean, be happy he’s not going to fall behind.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Martinez!” 

“Have a good night, Kurt.” Mr. Martinez lets out a little laugh as Kurt bounces out of the room.  

[trashcatsnark]

NGL I love how much you have embraced the silverv stuff here - its so nice to read. I submit for consideration, Rogue notices the tattoo while on the disaster date and both Johnny and V play it off as a joke and holy shit poor rogue stuck in a room with two morons.

Also - V getting dressed for that date and realizing they just MIGHT be a little jealous with a side of some thoughts of "Oh God Johnny Would NEVER Feel That Way About Me Gotta Bury This Deep So He Doesn't Know"

Johnny notices the anxiety but is very dense about the cause.

Oh hell yeah, I have fully embraced it and this ship; I was writing SilverV porn before the game came out, like I knew what my ship for this game was gonna be from the second I saw gifs of

“You’re a dick, Johnny” 

“And you’re a cunt, so maybe we’ll fit together after all.” 

That banter sealed my fate and I’m fairly sure I had named and created my V then wrote porn of her with Johnny literally a week later. The devil works hard, but my brainrot works harder and faster. 

Spoilers! 

Okay, so I’ve thought a lot about that date in both a silverv context (and largely how it fits with my V, Aidan and her fic) I’ll try to stay general though. 

Firstly, I whole heartedly believe Rogue sees through their bullshit. Not only is she just good at that, but Johnny even states she has MRE’s (?) and can see through people, like her eyes can pick up on signs of lying. And usually, thats not an issue for when V talks to her, but when she asks about Johnny and their relationship with him. Its a mess. And when Rogue asks Johnny about it, its a mess. 

And when Rogue notices the tattoo it’s like Oh... I get it . And Johnny is of course like, “hahaha, yeah I thought that’d be so funny, the kid hates it.” But Rogue isn’t stupid, she knows a lovey dovey heart with their names, something that looks like someone doodled it on their third grade notebook about their crush, is not really typical of Johnny’s “joking” She knows that if Johnny is not really the kind of guy to hahahaha its so funny to make it look like we love each other; he’d be more likely to get a dick tattooed on V’s arm if it was just to mess with them. For gods sake, look how many people didn’t pick “the other one” because they were convinced it was gonna be a dick. That’s a Johnny just trying to fuck with someone move. So, she doesn’t buy it, but doesn’t push it...with him. 

She asks V about and of course they play it off as “Yeah, Johnny thought it’d be funny, what a fucking asshole, its so fucking dumb, I totally fuckin hate it.” 

“So, why not get it removed?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh, well you see what had happened was, um, I, just uhhhh, never been enough time, I guess yeahhhhhh.” 

Cause lets face it, in cyberpunk universe, getting a tattoo removed should be easy. If you can get blades in your arms and can have a completely newly reconstructed body in like an afternoon; you can get a tattoo removed in like twenty minutes. So, V still keeping it, says volumes about how they really feel.

Now, V’s jealousy and the date. 

I do absolutely agree that any anxiety or ill feeling V might have up until the date; Johnny is gonna feel, but not realize where it’s coming from. I think if anything, he’s gonna chalk it up to V being anxious about giving him control again and he’s gonna be like worried that maybe V doesn’t trust him as much as they let on. 

And I do think a V who has feelings for Johnny, would not be able to help feeling some jealousy regarding Rogue and Johnny. Just because jealousy is natural thing to feel and while you can debate if they were ever a good or healthy couple, you can’t debate they shared very real feelings for one another. And I think a lot of V’s jealousy would come from just how much Johnny seems to first think of/go to Rogue. When he needed to save Alt, first person he turned to, Rogue. When he wanted to bomb Arasaka tower (going by his memory of it and ignoring that the event was probably actually planned by Morgan Blackhand), who’d he go to? Rogue. When he becomes determined to get Smasher, who is he determined to get him with, Rogue. When he first decides to atone for his past mistakes, who’s the first person he wants to make up with, Rogue. When at the rooftop, who does he want to go grab to help him save V, Rogue. 

If you got feelings for someone, that’d hurt, I think it’s impossible for that not to spark some jealousy. And V if anything is also mad at themselves for having those feelings, because they like Rogue, she’s a badass, a legend, they respect the hell out of her. And of course they have feelings for Johnny and they wanna help him make shit right and they wanna give him a chance to enjoy himself. But this stupid reptilian part of their brain is screaming but i want to be the first person he goes to, the first person he thinks about, which they know is also stupid cause for fucks sake the man literally lives in their brain, they’re as close as two people can be and literally when Johnny has the power to go to someone for something, he can’t go to V because they’re reduced to sleeping essentially until Johnny hands back the reigns. Yet, feelings aren’t aren’t always, rational, sadly. 

And to Johnny’s credit, he probably doesn’t even give it that much thought. Rogue is a badass, someone he cares for, someone he can depend on and someone he hurt really badly. The two people he can and always has been able to depend on the most (other than Alt prior to her death) have been Kerry and Rogue. And, bless his heart, the fuck is Kerry gonna do? Kerry ain’t a merc, Kerry isn’t gonna bust into Arasaka Tower or plant a bomb. Kerry doesn’t have the connection to Smasher. So, of course, Rogue is gonna be his go to. And in terms of making things up to people...he literally cannot really do much to make things up to V, not the way he can for Rogue or Kerry. Cause, when him and V are both conscious, he can’t do much beyond touch and talk to them. Hell, even with Rogue and Kerry, he relies mostly on V to help him do anything. Even with people he can interact with and do something for; V is doing all the nitty gritty work for him. V drives Rogue to the theater, V breaks into the theater, V gets the projector going. V breaks into Kerry’s house, V disables the security. V gets in contact with Nancy. V gets Nancy out of Totentanz in one piece. 

Which probably if V actually thought about it critically, does mean he’s going to them and relying on them more than Rogue, but they’d probably dismiss it out of it being for necessity and not because he cares about them and feels he an depend on them. 

Anyhow, Johnny would probably love to do some nice gesture to make up for his bender to V, hell they probably were the first person he wanted to make things up since they are his catalyst for changing. But what feasibly can he do for them? Anything he’d want to do with/for them, would just be asking V go do this thing and i’ll also be here. Anything that would put them in public interacting is out, unless they want MaxTac called on V for looking cyberpsychotic. He can’t even do an at home date, because he can’t cook (engram or not) and he can’t buy them anything nice he has no money and also doesn’t technically exist. He could try to do so sneakily while he’s in control...but he’d be using V’s money so they might as well just buy it for themselves. he can play music for them,,. but that doesn’t seem too special and more than a little egotistical to think it’ll make V feel better about what he did... So... all he can really do, is prove he’s worth trusting by being on his best behavior and more importantly do what he can to save V’s life. 

Then there’s the date. And as usual, I have some opinions and feelings about a thing.  Like, okay, I’ve seen some people (aka Gamer Bros on Twitter) being like, Rogue is Johnny’s girl. Wanting to date either of them is wrong because they like each other. (then you also get the BUT ALT crowd, but rants for another day.) And I can’t help but ask, did we play the same date? Their entire date is about how they’re both desperately clinging to the past. Rogue is trying to reclaim 2013-2023 Rogue and Johnny just wanting for a night to feel like the world and his place in it haven’t been completely rearranged. And it ends with Rogue telling him, she is not that girl anymore, she can’t pretend to be, and frankly she doesn’t want to anymore. She wishes she could be, wishes she was still that tall haired street punk who’d never dream of working with corps or being a fixer, but she’s not. Her and Johnny are no longer the same people who met back in to 2010’s. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about one another and doesn’t mean what feelings they had weren’t real or important; but they’re just not those people anymore. Rogue more so than Johnny since he’s freshly on the course of change.   

Something else in regards to the date, that I think is important to talk about and how it relates to silverv and its something I personally have very conflicting feelings about. The fact that Johnny can initiate some physical intimacy with Rogue. See, I have never chosen the option to kiss Rogue during the date and actually did not learn until relatively recently, that if that choice is made it goes a biiit further than a kiss. I have watched the scene now.

And god I have mixed feelingssss. Like, I get it, but I’m not sure I like it. And I know full well, my silverv bias impacts my feelings on the matter, it’s be disingenuous to say otherwise. But I don’t think the ship is purely my reason for having these feelings. But at the end of the day, its all opinions. So, I get from a character perspective that Johnny and Rogue are trying so hard to reclaim their past and what they use to have that they get caught up in trying do what they would do if this was the 2010’s. And Johnny’s relationships as we’ve seen are very physical, sexual chemistry and attraction are major factors in his relationships because he kept things very superficial most of the time. He even says part of the issue with his relationship with Rogue is at the time he didn’t realize he could let her see the true him and still hid behind walls, kept things at a distance. So, the idea that’d they fall back into the old habit of trying to just be physical and ignore their feelings, isn’t out of character. 

However, and Johnny even seems to acknowledge this issue when Rogue interrupts it, they’re doing this with V’s body. V...who did not consent to sexual contact. They consented to a date and while one could logic that this would mean everything a date could entail up to and including physical intimacy; I would argue that that is something that would need further conversation to have clear consent. And like again, this might come down to boundaries and personal feelings. Because I go back to the bender and what’s been interesting to me is too see different opinions on it; some people weren’t actually bothered at all by Johnny’s bender in V’s body, some people were bothered by the drugs and alcohol specifically cause their V is straight edge. Me, personally, it was the sexual content and the endangering of V’s life. Like, it was mostly funny and oh yeah, I expected that it’s bad but eh I’ll move on, to me, until he started getting sexual with people in V’s body. Like that to me is not just crossing the line, it’s catapulting over it. 

And like I said, Johnny even responds to Rogue’s “this isn’t fair” with “what, you mean it’s not fair to V?” which she says she meant it isn’t fair to Johnny. (Which viscerally upset because you nearly used V’s body for sexual gratification without their consent and you’re worried about Johnny, which tbf Rogue has no way of knowing what V has and hasn’t consented to, so its not on her but that was my knee jerk thought). So, he has some awareness that maybe that was a bad move. 

And yeah, it definitely to me and my V would be a very bad move (unless he explicitly talked to them beforehand and got consent). And in general, it made me feel like, dude, you just promised you’d be better and not break V’s trust but again not a day later you’re nearly using them to have sex. It felt like a backslide, which isn’t necessarily unrealistic, cause change and growth is not always linear, people can commit to changing themselves and still fuck up and not get it right; in fact it’s rare for them not to have any sort of backsliding or repeating of mistakes. 

Again, I will also give credit that he could have been assuming that given V consented to the date, they assumed or were cool with their being physical intimacy between him and Rogue. He also generally, might not have really planned for it to happen, because I don’t think Johnny plans a lot of anything. It very well might have just sort of happened. Also, V doesn’t clearly communicate if the sexual component was an issue in the bender. All V really seems to have an issue with in game is the very general thing of; he misled them and used them. So, he might have assumed that wasn’t ever an issue. And hell, if you wanna go full meta, the player is technically the one who makes that choice and V is largely an avatar for the player, so that alone could be seen as whether or not V would/does consent. 

But, from a story perspective, removing the player choice element. I think how that’s handled would have a huge impact on silverv and where it goes from there. 

Because if V and Johnny did talk about consent prior and V did consent while having feelings for Johnny, god I’d have to imagine they’d still feel pretty hurt, but feel it’s irrational to feel that way and have put their own feelings aside because clearly Johnny cares about and wants Rogue and they should ruin what could be his one chance to make things right. 

If there like in game was no talk of consent and Johnny ends up kissing and touching on Rogue and V finds out or has memories of it surface,that could be devastating for them. Not only from their own feelings for Johnny, but this since of betrayal and hurt. Was the oil field conversation just a lie? A manipulation? V might feel like they were used; that Johnny never gave a shit about them or how they feel. And Johnny would have to deal with the realization that intentionally or not; he earned back V’s trust just to destroy it again. He fucked up again, he ruined everything again, he got his second chance and destroyed it…. And he doesn’t know how, if he can, or if he should bother trying to ask for a third. In general, I do think, V would come out of the date assuming (naturally so) that Johnny really only has romantic feelings towards Rogue, that they’re just a friend at best, a host to be used at worse. I even in my own universe with my V have them after everything is better, everyones got a body, expects Johnny to start pursing Rogue and trying to swallow their own feelings and be a supportive friend, try to encourage and push him to do it and Johnny’s just like please stop, Rogue is this close to murdering us both.

I was gonna add more funny stuff to this and include a shitposty interaction he has with my V over them dressing up for the date and shit, BUT HOLY FUCK THIS GOT LONG AND SAD????? I’M SO SORRY.

[nonstoplover]

For The Better (two) ~ Michael Corleone

masterlist

Summary:  (y/n) is back to living life alone, and it’s not long until she finds company to divert her thoughts from the fight whilst Michael keeps on trying to find a way to win his wife back. 

Words: 4.2K

Approximate reading time: about 20 mins

A/N: since i received so many likes and reblogs on the first part (which i'm incredibly grateful for), i decided to continue it. i hope it didn't turn out too cheesy and bad. if there'll be the same amount of interest in this part too, i'll maybe write a prologue even! something about how they met maybe. i hope you enjoy ♡

previous chapter

The days seem to end faster than before since I always find something important to do, not like when I was still living in the house.

There I had to keep myself busy with cleaning, rearranging the photo frames on the shelves and walls in our shared room with Michael, reading or just (slightly impatiently) waiting for him to finally finish work and be able to spend some time with me.

Now I have all the freedom I wanted, I spend every minute with something to help make this world a better place.

It feels good to help people in need, and it's never enough to make me fully satisfied, but I have to admit that even though it's the most important thing in my life and I love doing it with every fibre of my being, I almost only do this with such motivation and force to keep Michael Corleone out of my mind.

It's pretty effective, I have to say. Diving into my work even when it's the middle of the night is enough for me to stop thinking about my husband and the life I've been living until only two weeks ago.

Usually I work until I'm so dead exhausted that I faint from tiredness and only wake up in the morning when I have to leave for another meeting or something else that's work-related.

Habits from my previous lifestyle stay with me, for instance, I always keep the small revolver I got a few years back (a unique one specifically designed for me) in my handbag, ready for using.

I still keep an eye on the news of that world, the one I left behind, only hoping that I won't find anything terrible about the Corleone family, my family.

Every day I notice someone who's watching over me, probably because Michael ordered it, and about every three days Connie, Fredo or even Tom appears at my door to ask about me.

These conversations always go the same. They ask me how I'm feeling, I politely answer. They ask me if I had changed my mind about leaving them, I say no, not yet. They ask me if I need anything, money or protection, I say no, I'm fine. They incidentally tell me about how miserable Michael's feeling, and I close off all my real emotions, pretending that it doesn't affect me, when in reality, it feels like another sliver is breaking off from my heart every time I hear his name.

Usually as soon as they leave, I break down crying right there on the floor, and stay there for at least another hour or so until I can calm down and convince myself yet again that what I did was the right choice.

Weeks go by like this slowly turning into months, and the only difference is that the number of occasions of a Corleone visiting me is slowly starting to get rarer and rarer with time until it all comes to an end. None of them knock on my door anymore, trying to convince me to come back.

I think they accepted the fact that I've chosen. And that my decision simply can't include their lifestyle. Not for now, anyway. I told Michael I need a break, and I'm keeping myself to it.

I'm slowly getting better, mentally and physically as well, I can feel it in my blood and my bones. I feel much calmer all the time, anxiety and fear completely disappearing from inside of me, only that little emptiness stays. The part of me that loves him, misses him and needs him. The part I closed off when I walked out of his office that night.

I manage to make a couple friends even in this short amount of time, all through work or living in the same neighbourhood, and I even start to live a more proper social life, occasionally going out to pubs, even a couple parties as well, or simply just the pictures once in a while.

No one seems to know who I am, or more precisely who I was, no one connects me to the Corleone family anymore. And for this little while it feels nice to be just (y/n). Not (y/n) Corleone, not Mrs Corleone, just plain old (y/n).

One Friday my friend Marjorie convinces me to accompany her to a party held by one of her friends, and then only a couple hours later I'm standing on the staircase leading to the front door of a huge house, my arm linked with my friend's.

Music slightly sweeps out through the door as we wait for it to open, then the usual greetings and introductions take place as soon as Marjorie's friend opens the door.

Only an hour later I find myself sitting on the stairs inside the house, half-heartedly listening to the chaotic noise the music and people's chatter causes, but mostly I'm just deep in thought.

"How come a beautiful lady like you not being out there on the dancefloor?" A male voice suddenly speaks above me out of nowhere.

I spin my head around in curiosity, seeing a young man slowly walking down the stairs behind me. I scoot to the side to give him more space to walk by me, a shy smile on my face from the given compliment.

"I guess I'm not in the mood for it at the moment," I admit with a shrug.

"Glad I'm not alone then," the man chuckles as he passes me, stopping at the end of the stairs, his arm held out towards me. "I'm John, by the way."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you."

"Mind if I join you?" John signals towards my seat and with a polite motion of my arm I let him sit next to me.

We spend the following one or two hours talking before I decide to eventually go home. John immediately offers to walk me home, and I gladly take his offer. Who would want to walk alone at this late hour anyway?

Throughout our walk I try to make myself confess to him that I'm married, I don't want him having false hope, I don't want to give him mixed signals. But I just can't. There's never a moment I could say something like this.

And a part of me feels so good that after such a long time, a man shows interest again in me.

In the end, we part ways and I close the door behind me, leaning against the wooden surface, the weight of the truth still pulling me down.

It's not like you did anything wrong, I have to remind myself. You had a conversation with an interesting person, then walked home with him so it'd be less dangerous out in the streets. There's nothing wrong in it.

But somehow it still feels bad. The fact that I've spent time with a man without Michael's knowledge makes it feel like I'm doing something bad.

It's not like I'll ever meet John again.

Oh how wrong I was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Third Person's Perspective:

Michael's unstoppably pacing up and down in front of the desk in his office, impatiently waiting to hear the latest news about his wife.

He doesn't even notice how late it is in the evening, all he cares about is to finally hear a knock on his door.

Half an hour later he's raging. The poor young boy he sent out tonight to watch over (y/n) stands in the corner, fear clear in his eyes. He's never seen his boss act so mad before.

Michael already forgot about the boy, all he can think about is the image of his wife and another man inside his head.

Could (y/n) really get over him this fast? Did he mess this up so bad that it truly is over?

Suddenly he feels like crying, again, and this makes him even more angry. He can't believe he acts so childish. A grown man should never cry. At least that's what he learnt in this world.

He storms out of the room without taking further notice of the now obviously shaking boy, determined to talk with Tom as soon as possible.

- - - - - - - - - - - 1 week later - - - - - - - - - -

Michael slowly gets out of the car, his eyes never leaving the outline of his wife inside the café on the other side of the street.

He decides to stay in the shadows, and luckily he finds a free table at the café opposite to the one (y/n) is sitting in.

He sits down, and whilst pretending to read the newspaper in his hands, he keeps an eye on her.

Ever since he found out about that other man, he himself goes every time to watch them interact instead of sending someone else.

There have been already a couple meetings he have stormed out from because of this, nothing seemed as important as his wife.

His wife. His. Is she even still that? He ponders, chewing on his bottom lip until he feels the familiar taste of blood on his tongue.

His glance travels back towards the other side of the street, trying to figure out with examining eyes what she feels from the way she moves and behaves.

He can almost swear there's nothing flirty or romantic in her behaviour, nothing but a simple friendliness, and that wouldn't be surprising. (y/n) has always been the kindest person he ever met in this world.

But still, that little voice in his mind keeps repeating that on that Saturday night, he walked her home, arms linked, looking cozy from what that poor kid he sent out to watch her reported.

His heart aches every time he sees her smile, or when her shoulders lightly shake as she's laughing away at something the man said because it's not him that made her happy.

Still, he can almost even hear the sound of her giggle in his ears, the most beautiful sound ever existed. Oh, how much he misses to hear it.

He feels his fingers curl, nails digging into the skin of his palm as anger sparks up in chest again.

He would do anything just to be able to talk with her, hear her voice and feel her presence around him again.

He needs her to survive, to stay alive, more than anything or anyone, now he knows it, and he can only hope that he'll be able to tell it to her soon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(y/n)'s Perspective:

John takes the truth like a true gentleman. He says he's not even that much surprised. He says, I always thought that there's no chance for such a lovely woman like you to be without a husband.

But he still insists on us keeping in touch, he says I became one of his greatest friends since that party, and I have to admit, it feels lovely to be able to speak with someone who understands me in such a level.

I tell him all my thoughts and feelings about Michael and our marriage, even the reason why I decided to take a break, with successfully not giving away who he is and what his job is.

I tell him how much I miss my husband, our conversations, how even after all that negativity and pain I experienced in the past year I still yearn to be by his side, to be a member of that family. How wonderful it felt to belong somewhere after growing up in such a corrupt, non-loving family that only cared about social ranks and money.

I tell him how when I can't sleep, it's Michael's face I see in the dark, and when I'm feeling down or when I'm anxious, I try and repeat his words and his voice, as if he's right by my side, calming me.

I tell him how I still love him with every beat of my heart. Every breath I take is for him. Every thought I have is about him. Every waking moment his image fills up my mind.

John offers amazing, useful advice that help clear my mind enough so I can think the whole situation through from another point of view.

One day we decide to take a walk in the nearest park, trying to enjoy the warm weather as much as we can after finishing our drinks in the café we always go to.

On the way there, I feel so free and happy that I take a few steps ahead of John only to twirl around, my arms spread wide in the air and a giggle escaping my lips.

Just as I'm turning back, my eyes follow my moves and suddenly see something I have not at all expected to see. I take a double take, squinting a bit so I can see in the shadows on the other side of the street more easily.

When I find what I was searching for, my heart skips a beat. It truly is him. Michael.

I immediately start marching towards him, not even glancing around before stepping on the road, John's worried exclaims following me in the air as he tries to keep up with my sudden, fast pace.

Michael stays in one place, watching me motionlessly. He knows there's nothing he can do after being noticed. He knows now that I know he has been watching me.

His eyes are cold, his face emotionless as I reach him. My heart feels so happy that the oh-so-waited sight is finally in front of me that it takes me a few moments to register that he's not so happy to see me.

To see us at least. Because the next moment his eyes shift towards the just arriving man accompanying me, and his whole body just goes even stiffer.

Then his eyes move back to me, and we stare at each other for a couple silent minutes, waiting for the other to say something.

Me, for a reason as to why he's always following me or for a sign that he realised what we have is something that's not worth throwing away.

Him, probably for a reason as to why I'm spending my time with another man.

"(y/n), is everything alright?" John speaks quite lowly next to me. "You know who this is, maybe we should just leave."

For a moment I think he knows. That somehow he managed to figure it out that my husband, the man I complained so much about is actually the head of the Corleone family.

But then I realise he's only talking about the man in front of us being Michael Corleone. Not my husband, just the mafia boss.

Michael glances back at John and if looks could kill, I'm sure he'd be dead by now. I never thought those chocolate brown eyes could look so cold.

"It's alright, John. We're fine," I answer, eyes never leaving my husband.

"What do you-" he starts to ask, but suddenly Michael snaps, shutting him up in a millisecond.

"She said it's alright, didn't you hear?"

And even though his voice is harsh, cold, angry and full of some kind of hatred, it still sends a shiver down my spine and butterflies fly around in my stomach.

After so many nights of trying to remember his voice in my ears it's a true miracle to actually hear it.

"You can leave me here, John, I have a few things I need to do." I turn towards him, fingers lightly touching his arm to make him place his full attention on me.

"I'm not leaving you alone with this man," he shakes his head swiftly, the tone of his voice giving proof how negatively he's thinking of the man in front of us.

Michael's already taking a step towards him, arms moving to his side but since I know him so well, I'm right in front of him in under a millisecond, palm against his chest to calm him down like I did so many times before.

"It's okay, Michael," I speak lowly. "We don't want to make a scene, now do we?"

Shooting a quick glance at John above my shoulder I can see that his mouth is wide open, jaw dropped down to the ground as the thoughts clearly chase around in his mind fast. He's trying so hard to process what he has just seen, and when he does, his eyes widen, matching the other parts of his facial expression.

"You... he... your husband is Michael Corleone?" His voice shows nothing but pure shock as he manages to understand the situation.

"He knows you're married?" Michael's voice rings in my ear, making me look back at him immediately, my arms falling back to my side as I take a half step back.

He looks almost the same surprised as John, he obviously didn't think this to be the case.

"Yes, he is, and yes, he knows." I answer to the both of them before looking deep in Michael's eyes. "I think we should go somewhere more private now. We have quite a lot of things to talk about."

Michael nods, so I turn back towards John.

"I'm honestly sorry that we can't make it to the park today, but we'll catch up another day, alright? I think you know how important it is now for me and my husband to have a conversation..."

"Absolutely, yes, I know. I hope everything goes right," John nods, his voice still a little raspy from the shock he just went through.

"I'll talk to you later then, if that's okay with you."

He nods once more before slowly turning around and making his way away from us.

"So what do you think, can we use your office?" I look back at my husband, and he nods right away, motioning to the side where the car for us is already ready to take us back to the Corleone household, not to my surprise, to be honest and fair.

My heart stammers so loud I'm sure Michael can hear it as we get closer and closer to the house, but I can't help it. The variations of how this conversation could turn out make my stomach churn in nervousness and anxiety.

But at least this time I'm entering it knowing clearly what I want. And I won't settle for anything less.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

By the time we reach the office, we've met Connie and Tom, both of them surprised to see us walk so casually through the house, as if nothing had happened.

I wave at them with a shy smile on my face, only hoping that they're not mad at me for my earlier behaviour.

They both wave back and they seem glad that I'm back, which makes me a little more relieved already.

Then the door of Michael's office closes behind my back, the sound waking me from my thoughts as I slump down on the same arm chair I was sitting in the last time I spoke with my husband, months ago.

He follows soon after, pulling his own chair around the desk so he'd be closer to me. He knows how much I hate it when he's sitting on the other side of the desk when we have a comversation, like I'm just another client.

"I've been thinking. A lot." Michael speaks up a few silent minutes later.

"Me too," I admit.

"Do you want to start or should I?"

"Maybe I'll start, if that's okay with you."

He nods immediately, looking a bit relieved he has some more time left.

"I had quite enough time to think this whole thing through, to truly find out what I want and what I need in my life. Last time you promised you'd change. I honestly hope you're still determined to do that, because that's the most important thing for me. For us." I pause, giving him a chance to answer.

"Of course, I'm actually already getting there. Been trying for the past month or so, you can ask Connie, she'll prove it."

"Lovely," I nod. "Well then, it makes this easier for me to say the following things. You know, I truly missed you and the whole family, and being with you. I really think that this break was very much needed, because now I can see crystal clear that I do love my life the way it has been, and I'm able to pinpoint all the positive things about living here."

Michael's eyes slightly widen as he silently listens to me talk, he probably didn't think to hear these things from me so easily.

"I didn't stop loving you, Michael, not for a single moment, and if you still want this, and if you do promise to change, then I think I can give another chance for me to live here and be a part of this family."

He sucks in a breath, a small smile appearing in the corners of his lips already.

"Who was this guy then?" He speaks up a few seconds later.

"A friend, who would it be?" I ask back in surprise.

Is this really the most important thing he wants to say now?

"I don't know, I just heard a couple things," he shrugs, and as he looks away, clearly not being able to keep the eye contact between us going, I suddenly understand it.

The reason behind why he had other people watch me. Why he himself watched me.

"Oh, so when you hear something, you believe it straight away, don't you? Do you really think I'd ever cheat on you?" I scoff, even the assumption making a slight anger bubble up in my chest.

"No, I don't." Michael answers, his voice quiet and unsure. He knows how pathetic he sounds for asking such a question from me. He knows me and that I'd never do such thing.

"You don't have to go and be jealous of the first man I speak to outside this family."

"I know," he nods, eyes still searching some non-existent thing on the floor, avoiding mine.

I wait for him to gather his thoughts, waiting for something else he might say. As we sit in silence, my eyes searching his appearance, I notice the slight differences I haven't had the time to see before.

He lost a little weight, that one's obvious. A couple light creases appeared on his face, making it look like he's done a good amount of stressful thinking. His whole posture radiates some kind of different wiseness, something that wasn't there when I last saw him.

But even with all these small differences, his face is still the same beautiful, it's still the same marble statue. Or maybe he's even more gorgeous now, looking kind of more mature.

"So you want to come back?"

I can tell he's trying to keep his voice emotionless, he doesn't want to affect the answer I'll be giving.

"If you still want that too," I say.

A beat passes as his eyes finally look back into mine, the connection making my heart beat already faster.

"Of course I want that, (y/n)." Michael starts smiling even wider now. "Why do you think I spent so many hours out in cafés or just thinking through half the nights on how to win you back?"

A similarly wide smile appears on my face as he watches me with a raised eyebrow.

"I love you, (y/n). You're still the one and only for me, the love of my life. My feelings will never change, no matter how cliché it sounds." Michael shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips.

We stand up in the exact same moment, stepping towards the other, and it feels just like the first time we ever declared our feelings towards the other.

Just like we're the same giddy teenagers we were at the start of our relationship.

I feel the exact same butterflies flutter inside my body when his fingers ever so lightly touch the backs of my hands, then as his right hand moves up and cups my cheek, bringing me closer, I feel myself growing impatient, and the next thing I know is me leaning in, crashing our lips together.

We kiss like it's the first time we have ever kissed, like the past so many years have never happened and we're back on square one.

When we run out of oxygen, we lean back only until our foreheads are still touching, giggling as if we're kids.

"I love you, Michael, but please don't ever be jealous." I whisper.

"I love you, (y/n), but please don't ever leave me again." Michael whispers back.

And in this exact moment I know that I'll never leave again, because there won't be a reason for me to do that. I can feel it in the way he speaks, the way he looks at me that he will try his best to change, and it'll be more than enough for me.

That break we had just strengthened our relationship, our marriage. It truly was for the better.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

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[goldencuffs]

heyyy......how about babysitter laurent and dad damen?? 😝😝

The dining table is a mess. There’s coloured paper scattered over its surface, red paint smeared across the apron, and dried glue on the right leg. The floor is worse: loose, tiny pieces of confetti and bits of glitter are strewn over the tiles like a kaleidoscopic painting.

Damen closes his eyes briefly in exasperation as he takes it all in. It’s been a long day, filled with lacklustre product development, incompetent staff, rude clients, and an uncomfortable, silent dinner with his in-laws.

 Jokaste, in her silk blue dress, assesses the mess with flinty, cold eyes.

 “What the fuck is this?” She makes for an intimidating figure, despite the flush in her cheeks betraying how intoxicated she is.

 Damen touches her arm: a small, fleeting gesture to keep her from saying anything else.

 Laurent, standing in the middle of the mess, is the epitome of guilt. He keeps wringing his hands together, and he can’t keep himself still, shuffling on his feet in agitated movements. Like Jokaste, his cheeks are flushed red, but he’s much more unkempt than her; even from here, Damen can make out the glitter stuck to Laurent’s forehead.

 “I’m so sorry,” Laurent says. “I’m going to clean everything –”

 “Where’s Theo?” Jokaste interrupts. Damen hates this habit of hers; he can’t even count how many times she’s done it to him over the years, and it drives him nuts every time.

 Laurent pushes back his hair. His fingertips are green. “I sent him to bed.”

 On a different night, this news might have made Jokaste melt; Theo is two and has been increasingly difficult during his bedtime. But Jokaste is in a combative mood tonight. She’d been particularly vicious on their way to her parent’s place and had only grown more irritated as the night wore on.

 Damen knows her next comment won’t be pleasant. He feels his usual protectiveness towards Laurent and turns to her.

 “Why don’t you check on T? I’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up down here.”

 Jokaste hesitates; Damen knows, after years of being married to her, that she’s debating on whether having the last word will be in her favour.

 Ultimately, she decides it won’t be. She turns back towards the staircase and heads upstairs without another word.

 In a quiet voice Laurent says, “I really am sorry.”

 Damen sighs. He takes another look at Laurent’s furrowed eyebrows, his pink, pursed mouth and feels some of the tension bleed from his shoulders.

 Shrugging off his blazer and loosening his tie, he keeps his smile genuine and wide. “It’s okay,” Damen says. “Knowing my son, this could have been a lot worse.”

 Laurent’s body seems to loosen. He ducks his head shyly and nods. “He was actually very good today.”

 Damen snorts. Theo, lately, has been impatient and cranky all the time: a true poster child for the terrible twos.

 “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says in an undertone, and Laurent smiles, looking for the first time, relaxed.

 When Damen heads over to the inbuilt pantry to hoard the cleaning supplies, Laurent says, “No, please. You go upstairs Damen; I can do this myself.”

 “You’ll be here all night if someone doesn’t help you. It’s fine,” he adds, when Laurent opens his mouth to protest.

 Amongst amicable conversation, they get to cleaning. The damage isn’t as bad as Damen initially thought; the paint is watery and comes off with a half-hearted swipe, and vacuuming the confetti takes less than a few minutes.

 As they reorganise the papers, Laurent crowds further into his space, until their elbows are touching, and the line of Laurent’s thigh presses up against Damen’s. Damen glances down at him, captivated by the shimmer dancing on his face, and swallows.

 Laurent has been their regular babysitter since Theo was just six months old. Back then, he’d been a shy twenty-year-old college student, who could hardly look into Damen’s eyes. Damen had hired him because he was the younger brother of one of his long-time clients, but over the years, Laurent has shown characteristics Damen highly values. He’s kind, empathetic, incredibly loyal and smart. The way Laurent treats Theo is enough for Damen to like him; Theo thinks Laurent is the best person in the world, much to Jokaste’s consternation.

 So, yes: Damen has always liked Laurent. Recently though, their dynamic has changed to this: to sure, but fleeting touches, heated glances across the room, and texts sent late into the night.

 Nothing so far has been too scandalous; from an outsider’s perspective, the way he and Laurent interact is still innocent.

 But Damen knows it isn’t, because whenever his phone chimes at three in the morning, or whenever Laurent walks into his house wearing shirts that show off too much of his collarbone, he feels like he’s on fire. He feels like he’s losing control. It’s dangerous.

 It had started a month ago, when Damen had offered to drive Laurent home on a rainy night. Laurent had invited him inside for drinks and Damen had said yes.

 Several hours later, drunk and sated, Laurent had said, “You know the only reason I agreed to babysit Theo that first time was because I thought you were super hot.”

 Stupidly, Damen said, “I thought you were too.”

 Laurent gave him a long, measured look. Underneath it, there lay a margin of surprise. “Thought?” said Laurent, shifting closer on his terrible, sagging couch. “You don’t think so anymore?”

 Damen eyed the paleness of Laurent’s throat, the pink across his cheeks and said, “I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

 The surprise took over Laurent’s face. His mouth, darkened from the wine, grew slack, and his cornflower blue eyes widened. He leaned even closer. Damen did too.

 Then, his phone had rung, and Damen felt a huge, overwhelming amount of guilt as he’d read his wife’s name across the lit screen.

 He should have stopped it then. Instead, Damen found himself constantly checking his phone for messages from Laurent or calling him in the middle of the day to plan outings together.

 Last week, they’d gone to a new, fancy restaurant out of town for dinner. Damen had told Jokaste it was for a last-minute business meeting with an important client.

 Underneath the table, Laurent had hooked his foot around Damen’s leg and smiled.

 Damen couldn’t look away for the rest of the night.

 Now, the tension in the kitchen is pulsing. Damen is aware of the lack of space between them, the shortness of his own breath and the flush on Laurent’s skin.

 Laurent moves impossibly closer, until he’s nestled into Damen’s chest. He’s still rearranging the papers with ease. It’s a test, Damen thinks.

 Slowly, Damen steps back, just far enough to properly cage Laurent against him. Laurent’s back is to his chest, warm and firm. Damen moves his hands up to grip Laurent’s hips, and Laurent goes stills, his body tight.

 They just stand there for a moment, then two. In the silence, Damen can hear the sound of running water and creaking wood; Jokaste is getting ready for bed.

 Laurent shifts. It’s a deliberate movement. Damen grits his teeth as the curve of Laurent’s backside meets his groin. Laurent does it again, slower, and Damen closes his eyes.

 It’s wrong that he’s doing this, in the kitchen of his own home, with his wife and kid upstairs, but Damen can’t think of anything else besides Laurent in his arms.

 Laurent’s hair, so fine and golden, tickles Damen’s nose. It smells nice too, like coconut.

 The water is still running. Damen, emboldened with the fact that Jokaste willl not be out for a while, does what he’s been desperate to do for a while: he carefully kisses the unblemished side of Laurent’s neck.

 Laurent drops the papers.

 He whirls around so fast, Damen almost loses his balance. Laurent’s eyes are wide in anticpation, and in excitement. It’s exhilarating that Damen can read him so well.

 Laurent grips the collar of his dress shirt; it makes Damen stumble forward, his thigh slotting in between Laurent’s legs.

 Laurent gasps, and Damen kisses him.

 It’s not a chaste kiss. Immediately, Laurent opens his mouth, fingers digging into Damen’s hair. Damen kisses him hard and open mouthed, hands tight and unyielding as they hold onto Laurent’s waist.

 Damen pins Laurent further into the lip of the table, Laurent’s hips moving in tiny, jerky movements. It’s so obvious he’s inexperienced, and for some sick, twisted reason, it lights a spark of arousal in Damen’s gut.

 Laurent tastes like vanilla cake, Damen thinks, as he licks into Laurent’s mouth. His mouth is sweet, completely at Damen’s mercy. If Damen bent Laurent over the table and fucked him right now, Laurent would let him.

 The thought makes Damen dizzy. Of course he can’t do that, but it doesn’t stop him from lifitng Laurent’s shirt, exposing his pale, flat stomach and digging his fingertips into the skin there.

 Laurent moans into his mouth, hands clenching onto Damen’s curls even tighter.

 Jokaste’s voice rings from the staircase. “Damen?”

 Heart stopping for a brief moment, Damen pulls back. He almost groans at the sight of Laurent, whose lips are wet with Damen’s spit.

 It’s a miracle Damen’s voice sounds normal as he says, “Yeah?”

 He waits for the guilt to overcome him. It doesn’t.

 “Has Laurent gone home yet?”

 They’re still standing too close. It’s recklessly stupid. If Jokaste were to duck her head, she’d see them clearly.

 Laurent’s fingers finds his. His thumb traces over Damen’s ring, over and over.

 Damen swallows. “No,” he says, looking right at Laurent. “I’m going to drop him home now.”

 Laurent smiles.

[wandas-sunshine]

The Muses Dance - Part 2

Summary: Steve is a fine arts major, (Y/N) is a dance major. Their meeting wasn’t supposed to be anything big, but Steve is sure he’s found his new muse, and (Y/N) is suddenly convinced that maybe she doesn’t have to choose between her career and a relationship.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 6287

Warnings: Shitty parents, description of an anxiety attack, mentions of family death

A/N: The outfits mentioned are linked here; (Y/N) Maria Natasha. This took a very long time. I ended up splitting it in half so if the ending feels a little awkward that’s why. The original chapter was unfinished and already nearing 10k words. So Part 3 is coming very soon.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist

Two weeks had passed since the fateful day that Steve and (Y/N) met. Since then, the two had spent nearly every possible moment together. Even when Steve wasn’t working on his project, he hung around (Y/N). The two of them had fallen easily into a nice sort of routine.

After their classes finished each day, Steve would sit in on the girls' showcase rehearsals. He curled up in the corner with his sketchbook, drawing (Y/N) in all of her angelic glory. The girls all noticed, he wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think. But she never said anything. She didn’t want to make him think he should stop. Honestly, she much preferred that he continue, it was flattering having all of his attention on her.

So they played their little game, day after day. The girls would finish their rehearsals, and (Y/N) would practically skip to his side. She knelt beside him, and drank down the rest of the water from her bottle.

“Whatcha drawing there, handsome?” She asked. As always, he snapped the little book shut and smiled the way that made her stomach flutter. She’d always rearrange her things in her bag so she wouldn’t just sit and stare at him.

“Nothing special. Just passing the time.” He answered. That was always his answer, and she never bothered pressing for a better one. He slipped his things back into his bag, then he’d settle it on his back. As soon as her things were put away, he was scooping that up too. Over the first week of their friendship, she had tried to change his ways. She was strong enough to carry her own bag, she had said, but he insisted that he was raised to always help a lady. Her initial confusion, the surprise, was giving way to a sort of appreciation of his chivalry.

Like every other day since she’d met Steve, (Y/N) was the first to leave their rehearsal rather than leaving hours after her friends. They bid the other girls goodbye and set off on their way towards the visual arts building. Some days she would chatter excitedly about her number, high off the post-workout endorphins. Other times Steve would take the lead, passionately telling her about his progress on his piece. On rare occasions, they wouldn’t say anything at all.

Today was one of those quiet days. Steve wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but those were his favorite days. He adored listening to her talk, loved watching the way her eyes gleamed with pride. But these days were special. On quiet days he got a little glimpse into a more intimate part of her world. She was always in her head, and that was his favorite time to admire her.

She was so adorable, so charming, even when she wasn’t trying to be. As they walked, it would sometimes become obvious that she was still rehearsing in her head. Her eyes would close for a few moments longer, or her body would move ever so slightly to some unheard melody. There were a million other things he’d picked up on too. Like the way her nose would scrunch up if one of them fell out of step with the other. Or how she practically did a little dance to avoid the cracks in the pavement somedays. He figured that was another one of her superstitions. He’d learned plenty of those too. Wearing blue on wednesdays would bring bad luck in performance. Dancing in the rain would guarantee a well received performance. Drinking coffee the day of a performance meant the performer would get injured. They were strange, but she believed them wholeheartedly.

The way he was so content just to be at her side, even if she paid him no mind, was a bit worrisome. He was in deep with this one. He’d only fallen so hard once before, and that hadn’t ended so well for his heart. But this...this was different. It had to be.

When they reached the proper building, (Y/N) excitedly took the lead. She had learned her way around the building, thanks to a tour from Steve. She walked towards the studio that they worked in. She didn’t model for him, he didn’t need her to anymore. She just enjoyed being there, having some company, and Steve never turned her away.

She nudged the door open and flicked the lights on. Steve was only a few steps behind her. They settled into their respective places. Steve set up his space, turning on lights and laying out his materials. She curled up on the floor with her book. That was always where she ended up, getting comfy with a good book, or her homework, or sometimes she’d just sit and watch.

It was adorable the way he got when he worked. His tongue would poke out sometimes, or he’d mumble frustrated criticisms to himself. Pencils would find themselves tucked behind his ear, paint brushes ended up propped between his teeth. His long sleeves usually got pushed out of the way to reveal toned, doodle stained forearms.

And every time she noticed something new, she wondered just how many people had been observative enough to to pick up on the little quirks, the doodles, the smudges of paint. She wondered if anyone fell for them the way that she was.

“Anyone in there?” Steve asked, waving a hand in front of her face. She gave a surprised blink. She hadn’t noticed that he’d packed everything away and tidied his space back up. “Earth to (Y/N), come in (Y/N).”

She scrunched her nose and swatted his hands away. According to the digital clock on the wall, afternoon had given way to evening. The pale light of the setting sun seeped through the window shades and gave the entire room a beautiful pinkish glow.

“Shit, I must have totally zoned out.” She laughed, carefully putting her book into her bag and letting him take it from her.

“I swear if you’re still overthinking the showcase,” He gave her a stern look and she shook her head. He reached a hand down and she let him pull her to her feet.

“No, it’s not that. I’m just a little out of it today.” She promised. She stretched her arms up over her head, then swooped them back towards the ground, sighing as the muscles in her back pulled and loosened a little. “Don’t start worrying about me now.”

The walk back to her dorm was more interesting. Steve rambled with a new excitement about the progress the past few hours had provided. He lit up like a little ball of sunshine when he talked about art. He always had a passionate glimmer swimming in his sea blue eyes, it was the most amazing thing in (Y/N)’s humble opinion. She wondered if she ever looked so lovely.

“It’s really coming together.” He gushed. “And that’s mostly thanks to you. It’s looking so great! Obviously it’s not perfect, but it’s better than I thought it could be. I’m almost done, too! Might even finish it with time to spare.”

She had nearly stepped into the way of a biking student. Steve gently pulled her back on track.

“You think any of that is thanks to me?” Her voice was laced with disbelief. She hadn’t done anything but let him draw her, and several other girls had done the same thing for the exact same piece. If anything, she had been a bit of a hindrance what with her rehearsals, and her usual chatter while he worked. But his expression didn’t falter.

“Of course it’s thanks to you.” He spoke as if it were as obvious as if she’d done the art herself. “Really, I mean it. You’re my muse. Seeing you dance gave me a whole new perspective. It reminded me what it was like to really care about my art. I wanted to make people feel the same way seeing my art as I do watching you dance.”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She confessed quietly. She shook her head before looking up at him again. None of it made sense to her, she really wasn’t all that, but it definitely felt nice to hear him say it. “I’m glad I can help. Even if I’m not really doing anything.”

They talked the rest of the way to the dorms, and when they came to a stop outside her door as they always did, Steve went quiet. (Y/N) tipped her head.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked as she tugged the strap of her bag off his shoulder. He shook his head.

“Nothing, just thinking about stopping by Buck and Tasha’s place before I go home.” He passed her bag back to her and she hoisted it onto her shoulder. Her eyes flickered down to her shoes.

“Then you should get going. Don’t let me keep you out all night.” She looked back up and smoothed her hand over his shoulder, brushing out the little wrinkles her bag had left in his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Same time?”

Blue eyes flicked across her face as she fixed his jacket, then he smiled at her. For yet another night, he imagined kissing her goodnight. Imagined dipping down to catch her soft lips with his, holding her against him until he pulled away and brushed her hair back. But he couldn’t do that. So instead he nodded.

“Same time tomorrow. Have a good night.”

As always, he waited for her to safely step inside and close the door behind her. Then he turned with his sights set on Bucky’s apartment, and his mind dancing with lovesick fantasies.

The walk was short and fairly quiet aside from the sounds of traffic. Natasha would probably beat his ass for walking the city alone after dark, but he was fully capable of protecting himself. He had bigger things to worry about.

Steve rapped impatiently at the door. On the other side, Bucky pried himself off of Natasha who was maybe even angrier than her boyfriend at the interruption. She leaned up, peppering kisses along his jaw.

“Just ignore it, they’ll go away.” She pleaded, running her hands down his bare chest. She was sure she’d convinced him to return his attention to her. It was probably just their neighbour looking for his cat again. Then came the knocking once more. This time it was louder and more persistent. Bucky groaned, burying his face in the crook of Natasha’s neck.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He shouted, giving Nat a quick look. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and tugged them on before stalking to the front door. He looked positively dangerous as he ripped the door open. For a split second, his expression softened as he looked upon his best friend. Steve stood there with a goofy grin on his face and a surprisingly dreamy look in his eyes. But Bucky’s softness didn’t last long.

“What do you want?” He snapped. Steve tucked his hands into his pockets with a sheepish smile. His best friend wouldn’t stay mad at him. He never could.

“I need help.” Steve answered. He clearly wasn’t hurt or particularly upset. Any other friend would have turned him away given the circumstances. But this was Bucky, and this was Steve. Steve who he could never ever manage to turn away. So he reluctantly waved him inside.

Steve was only just noticing the lack of clothing, and the fresh hickeys littered across Bucky’s collarbone. His cheeks flushed as realization struck.

“I’m interrupting something.” He observed. Bucky nodded, but he didn’t quite get the chance to speak.

“Hey, Steve.” Natasha greeted. She’d pulled on one of Bucky’s shirts and it easily engulfed her. “You’re here awfully late.”

The words were half sincere and half irritated aggression towards the blonde. He flinched a tiny bit, but took a deep breath.

“I like her.” He blurted out, looking between the two. Both of them shared a look. They knew who he was talking about, but that didn’t explain why he had come bursting into their apartment at a quarter past nine at night. It wasn’t his first crush.

“Okay?” Bucky prompted, waving a hand for him to go on. The situation seemed fairly straight forward. He was head over heels for her, she was smitten with him. He would ask her out, and they would live happily ever after. Voila! “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Steve groaned. “She’s not just some dame I can charm. She’s special, she deserves something special.”

Natasha groaned out loud, moving to perch on the arm of the couch. She wasn’t sure she’d heard anything so ridiculous in her entire life. She loved Steve, but sometimes he was an absolute idiot.

“Relax, Steve. She already likes you. I swear all I hear anymore is ‘Steve is so sweet’, ‘have you seen his arms?’, ‘Steve is so talented’.” She mocked with a smirk. “Which is better than ‘I was awful, we have to run that section again’. Just ask her on a date!”

“I can’t just ask her!”

“The showcase.” Bucky intervened quickly. He loved his best friend like a brother, but he was beginning to sound like his little sister during her highschool years. “Ask her out at the showcase. That’s a big deal, right?”

Steve jumped from the seat he’d taken on the couch and grabbed his discarded bag.

“Bucky, you’re a genius!” He beamed brightly and headed for the door. He had an idea, and he needed to get started. “Thanks guys.”

The couple didn’t say anything as he rushed out the door.

When (Y/N) made it into her dorm, she found Wanda pacing the floor and reciting lines. Her twin brother Pietro was sprawled on her bed with the script held above his face. That was a bit pointless really since she’d had her lines memorized since two days after getting the script.

She sat her things down and kicked off her shoes. Usually she’d be mouthing along to Wanda’s performance, or listening to her track and working through choreography. But something else had her distracted. So she curled up with her stuffed dragon held to her chest, staring into space and daydreaming. She snapped out of it at Pietro’s loud laugh.

“What?” She asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion when she realized that both of the twins were looking in her direction.

“Pietro was talking to you. I told him that you had that dreamy look on your face so you wouldn’t care about talking to boys.” She explained, shoving her brother’s legs so she could sit comfortably on her bed.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” She propped her head up and glared at her friends.

“Every time your eyes go all dreamy, you’re thinking about Steve!” Wanda burst into giggles and (Y/N) rolled onto her back. That was absolute bullshit! Right?

“You’re both idiots.” She insisted with a smile on her lips.

“I’ve barely been around 10 minutes and I can tell it’s true.” Pietro argued. She didn’t look away from the spot on the ceiling, but she lifted her hand to flip him off.

“All you talk about is Steve. You spend more time with him than you do with me.” A little teasing pout crept onto Wanda’s lips as she spoke. It was undeniable really. (YN) sighed softly and sat up to face the twins.

“Okay, so I like him!” She huffed in defeat. “I really like him. He’s special.”

The twins shared a look. A silent ‘I-told-you-so’. Then Pietro leaned forward. He’d gotten fairly good at the whole girl talk thing over the years with Wanda and her friends.

“Special?” He prompted.

“Yeah, I’ve never really cared about dating, or settling down. It always clashed with my dreams, with my career. But this..this is different. He rivals my passion, and my dedication, and my ambition. And he balances out my psycho obsessive anxiety. He’s just incredible, you know? He’s so confident, handsome, chivalrous. And he’s smart, too! Can you even believe that? He can’t possibly be that perfect, but he is! He checks all the boxes. I’ve never met a man like him — no offense, Piet — and he seems to actually like me. He doesn’t want my body, or my career, or my reputation. Just me.

“Then, as if that simply isn’t enough. I could really imagine things working. Usually I could picture a couple dates, a fling. My career has to come first, and nobody seems to understand that. But Steve does. He doesn’t care that dance is my first love. He has the same relationship with his art.

“Can’t you just see it? A cute little apartment while I dance. He’d be making the most beautiful art. He’d have art shows, I’d have performances. We could make it big. Maybe get married, have a couple sticky little kids. It’s a dream.”

She bit her lip, and her face burned with embarrassment as she realized how much she’d just confessed. She’d never fallen for someone this way.

She hadn’t noticed Pietro getting up. He grabbed his things and walked across the small room. He pressed a sweet, brotherly kiss to (Y/N)’s head.

“You’re in deep. You should tell the poor guy.” He told her before walking to the door. She didn’t even try to argue. “Have a good night, ladies.”

The next day rolled around, and as promised, their routine continued. (Y/N) danced her heart out and refused to believe that her performance was anywhere near good enough. Steve sat in the corner and worked on a new sketch. He cared more about this one. She would see it after all. It had to be impressive. Had to be perfect.

“Whatcha drawing, Stevie?” She asked, grabbing her towel and drying her sweat. Steve snapped the book shut quicker than usual. It wasn’t ready for her eyes just yet. He tucked it into his bag and flashed her a smile.

“Nothing much. You’re looking really good.” He said standing up as she packed her things away. She gave him a curious look, her eyebrows lifting in a silent question. He took a second to process just what he’d said, then he began to blush and stammer out a response. “Well not...I just meant your dance! Your dance looks...good. Well, not good! Really good...great.”

She covered her giggle at his nervousness. The way he panicked, and the pink that burned on his cheeks were simply adorable. It was even sort of odd. At first glance, he didn’t seem the type to get nervous or to fluster so easily. But (Y/N) knew better than that. She uncovered her smile as her giggles subsided.

“Thanks. The last few bars still need some work. And I’m not sure I’m hitting some of the beats quite right. During my little solo, you know?” She shrugged and zipped her bag. Steve didn’t know exactly, he didn’t understand most of what she said when she talked about the technical details. But she seemed to be criticizing herself again, and she definitely didn’t need to.

“Well, it looks beautiful from here.” He pulled her bag up onto his shoulder. She murmured a small thank you and brushed some loose hair back from her face.

“I think we’re gonna get going.” She called to where Maria and Natasha were chatting. The redhead looked up and smiled towards Steve with a small nod.

“Have fun you two.” Maria shot the pair a teasing wink that made (Y/N)’s stomach twist with nerves.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you guys later.” She waved to her friends and slipped her hand into Steve’s just for a moment, tugging him towards the door. And like the lovesick puppy he was, he followed without a single hesitation. They walked through the halls side by side, dodging out of the way of other students.

“You know, I think you’re too hard on yourself.” Steve pointed out as they burst into the sunshine. “You’re so talented, but you’re never happy with yourself.”

Of course she knew that she was too hard on herself. She’d been hearing it her entire life. People said she’d dance herself to death one day, but it was her emotional outlet.

“Yeah, maybe I am. But I have so much to prove. Especially now. You know how competitive it is out there.”

“Well sure, but...you’re an amazing dancer. You shouldn’t doubt yourself.” His eyes lingered on hers. He knew she could do pretty much anything she set her mind to. She was incredible.

“Thanks Steve. But I have to be better than amazing. Nobody ever believed I would make it this far. My parents were less than thrilled when I decided to major in dance instead of something ‘practical’. They wanted me to get a business degree, or go into nursing.” She vented with a shake of her head. “If I ever want to make them proud again then I have to be the best.”

Steve frowned as she went on about the lack of support from her parents. It was heartbreaking. His parents weren’t around anymore, but his mother had been endlessly supportive of anything he wanted to do.

“You shouldn’t try to make them proud. You should make yourself proud first. And your family is supposed to support you no matter what.” His hand brushed against hers like he was just itching to hold it, to squeeze it, to remind her that it wasn’t just her against the world. He’d never let it be just her against the world.

“What about your family? They support your art?” She asked, looking down at the ground and absentmindedly skipping over a crack on the sidewalk. Steve smiled, but she didn’t notice.

“I didn’t know my dad. He died before I was even born. My mom was amazing. She supported everything I did. She would have loved you, you know?” He glanced towards the sky with a sad sort of smile that made (Y/N)’s heart ache in her chest. “But she died when I was in highschool.”

She gasped softly and covered her mouth. Of course she had gone and brought up awful memories. But Steve didn’t seem as bothered as she was. He took a couple long strides to hold the door open for her before continuing on.

“Since then Buck and Nat have been my family. Sam came along our freshman year here. They’re like my support team. They stick with me through everything.” He smiled brightly as he went on about his friends. She did too, thinking about her own friends.

“I guess I have a couple friends like that. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. And Nat I suppose too.” She said over her shoulder as the two of them headed up the stairs.

“And you have me.” Steve added, a small, semi-nervous smile dancing on his lips. “You’ve got plenty of support.”

“You are simply amazing.” She said after a moment, making sure he wasn’t going to take it back, or shout syke, or do some other very un-Steve-like thing. But he didn’t.

“You can count on me, doll. Anything you need.”

“I appreciate it. You’re going to regret that offer, but I do appreciate it. I appreciate you.” Steve hardly gave a moment for his heart to start beating again, flashing a smile and opening the next door for her.

“I couldn’t regret a thing when it comes to you.”

With one week left before the showcase, students were under more stress than ever. Teachers were running exam prep, and everyone was working themselves overtime to get ready for the showcase.

(Y/N), Natasha, and Maria found themselves back in the fashion design wing.One last  fitting before they’d be able to do their dress rehearsal. It was cutting things close, but it was a miracle that they’d managed to find someone willing to make three brand new costumes at all. Natasha had convinced one of the seniors to design them. And he truly had delivered.

Maria was being fitted first. Tony made a few comments as he adjusted the black and red corset and fixed the tulle that fell down the back. The freshman that always trailed at his heels like a lost puppy quickly jotted them down for final touches.

“Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself.” (Y/N) mused as Maria was waved off to change back into her usual clothes. Natasha laughed.

“Don’t say things like that, they go straight to his head.” She nudged her friend to get up and change into her costume as Maria came back to take a seat. (Y/N) swatted the redheads hand away and took the costume that Peter handed her with a hushed thank you. She slipped behind the privacy screen and stripped off her everyday clothes. Then she carefully changed into the stunning costume. A ruby red two piece embellished with more rhinestones than she could imagine attaching to anything. Sheer fabric draped from the back, tickling against her legs.

A volley of playful whistles rang out from her friends as she walked out. Peter even blushed so hard that she was worried he’d get a nosebleed or something. She did a little twirl and tucked her hair behind her ear. Tony stepped forward, entirely disregarding any concept of personal space as he adjusted the costume.

“If that doesn’t get Steve’s attention, I don’t know what will.” Maria piped up. (Y/N)’s cheeks burned. If looks could kill, Maria would be a goner.

“Please. All of Steve Rogers’ attention has been on her for weeks now. He just needs to get off his ass and do something about it.” Nat added fearlessly, and the brunette hummed her agreement. (Y/N) buried her face in her hands.

“Steve Rogers? You got the hots for the golden boy?” Tony asked as he straightened up and mumbled something about pushing her chest a little higher.

“Don’t say it that way,” She complained, uncovering her face and glancing anywhere but the faces of her friends. “Yes, I like Steve. I really like him.”

This brought a grin to Nat’s face that had her a little nervous. But she’d also gotten fairly used to that. Natasha was always plotting something or other.

“Don’t worry. He feels the same way.” She promised as Tony shoved (Y/N) back towards the privacy screen to change again. “He’s just too worried about impressing you to realize that he already has.”

She rolled her eyes. There was no way that was true. Firstly, she was in no way special enough to catch his attention that way. Secondly, he didn’t have to worry about impressing anyone, especially her. He just sort of managed with that charming smile and the general kindness. He was like something from a fairytale.

“I’m gonna be honest. I don’t see what the big deal is with him.” Maria shrugged as Natasha and (Y/N) swapped places.

“He’s hunky, and he has that whole gentle giant, starving artist thing going for him.” Tony answered easily. She rolled her eyes. Although...he was definitely hunky. And the gentle giant, starving artist thing didn’t hurt.

“You guys are so weird.” She giggled and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “It’s so much more than that.”

“Yeah, well what is it then?” Nat asked, strutting out to Tony’s pedestal. She looked stunning in her black and red corset. Her black heels gave her a boost of height and her red hair fell over her shoulders. It was unfair that she was always such a knockout.

“He’s cute, and intelligent, and so passionate.” At her words, Tony flashed her a smirk and her eyes went wide. “Not like that! I just mean...he’s passionate about his art, you know?”

“Of course you would fall for something like that.” Maria teased. (Y/N) practically ruffled, shifting defensively.

“But that’s exactly what I mean! Nobody really sees why he’s so special. He’s deep, complex. He’s not like any guy I’ve met before. He’s just so much...more.” She ranted before giving a soft sigh of admiration.

“You’ve got it bad sweetheart.” Tony laughed. “You sound like me when I talk about Pep.”

Everyone knew about Tony and his Pepper. He was like a starry eyed kid when he was around her. Pepper Potts was a big shot in the music production course at the school. Everyone knew she’d make it big soon.

“I don’t know. I think it’s sweet.” Peter piped up for the first time in a while, a sweet smile on his innocent face as he looked at (Y/N). “It’s romantic. You being so in love with him and seeing him for something more than his body.”

“It’s just a silly little crush.” She lied. Even just saying so felt strange, like she was ignoring something that she never wanted to hide ever again. It was so much more than a silly little crush. But what right did she have to call it love?

T-minus two days to the showcase, and (Y/N) was most certainly working her ass off. Exams were finally over, and all she was worried about was her damn routine. Every spare moment was spent rehearsing. She’d hardly seen Steve face to face since exams had begun. She texted him any time she allowed herself to take a break.

She was pretty sure she was one of the only people still in the building. She’d been working herself to the edge for nearly six hours now. Her brain was going numb, her body screamed with every move she made, and every bit of her was trembling with exhaustion. But with every rep, her eyes found something new to nitpick.

That wasn’t smooth enough. You’re not hitting the points. You aren’t expressive enough. You aren’t enough. You’re never going to make it. You’ll never be any good. You’re talentless.

She hadn’t realized she’d started crying. She stared at herself in the massive, looming mirror that spanned the wall. She was just so small there, standing all alone in the middle of the room, chest heaving and tears streaking down her cheeks. She was hopeless. She wiped her face desperately and curled up in Steve’s corner.

She had texted him the last time she had let herself sit down. Which was — she glanced at her phone — two hours earlier. She sat her phone down and pulled her knees to her chest and tried her best to calm herself down. She was being pathetic. She’d been through worse, why was this throwing her. She sniffled. She needed someone to talk her down. But it was nearly 8pm. Natasha was with Buck, she was sure of it. Wanda was out with Pietro at his insistence. Maria hardly ever answered her texts, let alone her calls.

“And you have me,” Steve’s words rang out in her head. She picked up her phone again and pressed the call button by Steve’s contact. One ring. What was she thinking? Two rings. She was stupid to call him out of the blue. Three rings. She should-

“Hello?” Steve’s voice came through, and hers caught in her throat. She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the shaky sob that slipped out. “(Y/N)? You there?”

Steve had been in the shower when he heard the ringing. So of course he brushed it off. But when it didn’t stop, he assumed it wasn’t something he should ignore. Once he made out her contact, he was out in an instant, dripping water onto the tile of his bathroom without a thought.

“Stevie?” She asked finally. “Is this a bad time?”

“What? No! No, now’s fine. Are you okay?” He awkwardly held his towel around his waist. She sounded rough. Something was wrong. He could hear the tremble in her voice, the way her breath seemed to stutter. His shower was the last thing on his mind.

“Do you think I’m a good dancer, Steve?” She asked instead of giving him a straight answer. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, she’d heard him say it a million times before.

“(Y/N), talk to me. What’s going on?” He pushed, already moving towards his room to dress. She needed him and he was not going to let her down.

“I’ve been working on my number all day, Stevie. All day, and I’m still no good.” She sobbed and pressed her palm against her eyes.

“Go take a shower.” Steve ordered. “Drink some water. I’ll meet you outside the building in 20 minutes.”

“Steve,”

“No, go get cleaned up. 20 minutes.” He didn’t let up, and after a moment she gave in. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He let her hang up, and rushed to get himself dressed

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was just trying to follow his instructions. She packed her things back into her bag and lifted it onto her achy shoulder. She flicked off the lights and closed the door behind her. On the walk to the showers, she downed what was left in her water bottle.

Usually her showers would only take 5 minutes, but as she stood under the nearly scalding spray, she felt her muscles relax, felt her panic begin to ebb into a tight coil of anxiety in her chest. So she stayed there until the water cooled to an uncomfortable icy drizzle. 10 minutes left until she’d have to face him.

She dried herself out and changed into her clean clothes. A sweater and her leggings. She pushed her hair back. Five minutes. For the first time ever, she was dreading seeing Steve.

By the time she made it outside, Steve was already pacing there waiting for her. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and his hair was damp and messy. But the moment she came into view, he froze and looked her over. Her eyes were still bloodshot from the crying, and it was clear that she was nervous by the way she fiddled with her sleeves. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he met her halfway and bundled her up safe and warm into a tight hug.

She relaxed into him, pressing her cheek against his chest and hugging him just as tightly. They stayed that way for a long time, longer than either of them bothered to count. He kept his arms wrapped protectively around her, and she clung to him like her life depended on it, just listening to the steady beat of his heart. For a brief moment of time, she was okay, she was safe, and she was enough.

“You had me really worried.” Steve confessed softly. She tilted her chin up to look at him. Their faces were almost dangerously close, intimately close. And with her chest pressed to his that way, he could surely feel the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.” She mumbled, and he shook his head so quickly it nearly startled her. He only hoped she didn’t really regret calling him. But the fact that her hands had fisted into his dark blue tee eased his mind. “Didn’t mean for you to come all the way here so late.”

Steve scoffed and brushed his thumb against the tiny sliver of exposed skin where her sweater had ridden up.

“I told you that you’ve got me. I’d do anything to make sure you’re okay.” His eyes met hers, and the simple sincerity behind the blue she’d fallen for had her stomach swirling.

“You are a real prince, Steve Rogers.” She practically whispered. This man was too good to be true, and much too good to be hers. Steve didn’t say anything, but even in the near darkness she noticed the way his cheeks went pink.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked, slowly letting his arms slip from around her.

“About four hours ago.” She didn’t bother mentioning that even then she’d only had a granola bar. But Steve still didn’t seem satisfied with the length of time.

“Come on, there’s a little place that you might like.” He gently took her bag from her shoulder and nodded for her to walk with him. She didn’t speak, just following along at his side. He didn’t press her to say anything, and she appreciated it more than words could say. Eventually though, her guilt got the better of her.

“My mom called me. Her and my dad are coming to see me dance at the showcase.” She confessed suddenly. Steve gave her a look. That would explain her panic. He knew how tense things were, how useless they’d made her feel. Something in him just hoped she wouldn’t let their opinions tear her down completely.

“Is that why you were dancing so hard today?” She nodded, and they were both quiet for another long moment.

“My parents have never come to a showcase. My dad hasn’t even seen my dance since I graduated highschool. But now they decide to come to the mid-year showcase my junior year?” Her anxiety was beginning to give way to anger. Years of no support from the most important people in her life, and they suddenly decide to come back as if they’d never abandoned her.

“Maybe they’re coming around. Better late than never, right?” Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave a little squeeze. She smiled and let herself melt into him. “Come on. This is it.”

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Fruits Basket 2019 Episode 23: “You Look Well . . . “

With two episodes left in the first season, we’ve officially hit the calm before the storm, and I for one am ready to die and be dead next week :^)

Thoughts under the cut. [Plus spoilers for the whole manga]

Even though this was a really good episode, now I’m just stuck thinking about what’s gonna come next week, so it’s kinda hard to actually have much of a reaction to this episode, lmao.

Anyway, as I expected, this episode adapted chapters 30 and 31. I thought they might splice them together a bit rather than just adapting one and then the other with no real changes, but it worked better than I thought. The mid-episode transition between Tohru being sick and the scene of the main trio walking home in the rain was actually really nice.

For the most part this was a pretty 1:1 adaptation [except for one detail I’ll mention in a sec], but like with the previous episode, this one goes to show how good of a grasp on atmosphere and pacing the reboot has, though this episode’s a lot more mellow and wholesome than the last one.

One bit they did add, though, which I thought was really nice, was the presence of the hat. I had to double check the manga to make sure, but the hat never actually comes up in chapter 30, even in the scenes where Kyo and Yuki are in Tohru’s room. I think this version of events where they specifically show the hat dropping behind her bed makes a lot more sense, since it explains why Kyo and Yuki don’t react to the hat, which we know is usually kept out in the open where anyone could see it. So it helps sidestep that potential little inconsistency, and helps draw even more attention to the hat in general. I know some people think this version’s gone too far in making it obvious that the hat’s important, but I’m fine with it.

The funny thing about this episode is that even though everyone talks about ‘the soup chapter’, it’s actually just porridge, and apparently Takaya herself commented on Twitter that she didn’t know why overseas fans kept calling it soup, lmao.

Either way, this was the Kyo/Tohru set-up that we really needed to get now, especially with how we’re gonna go straight into the true form arc next week. Kyo’s kinda suffered recently from how they’ve condensed so many of the character intro/backstory episodes together, but I think this episode went a long way to remind everyone of some of the big mysteries surrounding him, right before they get explored next week. And I still just feel like it was a good decision overall for them to rearrange the flow of events this way, since this arc works really well as an end of season climax, and it means that now we’ll be getting into the long-term plot and the more major character introductions pretty much immediately in season 2.

I know I want to keep my thoughts on the true form arc for once it properly starts, but I do wanna say that the title for the next episode seems to be taken from near the end of the arc, so I’m slightly worried they might be planning to go through all three chapters of the true form arc next week. And I just can’t help but feel like that’d be super rushed, since a LOT happens in it. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt, though, since they’ve handled things so well up to this point, and this is exactly the sort of part where they’d put a lot of effort into making it as good as it can be. So I don’t think they’d rush it, but we’ll see. I guess it’s possible that the next episode might end pretty much right when the next episode title comes up, and they’ll expand the last bit of the arc into the finale, but who knows.

I also still think it’d be a bad idea to end this season on an episode adapting chapters 35 and 36, since it’d feel like too much emotional whiplash, and it’d feel too much like the start of the next whole act of the story.

And from the perspective of new fans in particular, I think it’d be a bit of a bad idea to go through the entire true form arc in one episode when it’s still a big mystery hanging in the air. I feel like it’d just be too many reveals and developments and emotional climaxes back to back.

I know the 2001 anime stretched the arc out to a kinda painful degree, but it’s still three chapters long in the manga, which is more than any single episode thus far has adapted.

On the other hand, though, I think this episode at least did a good enough job of setting up the atmosphere and emotions for the true form arc well enough that it might not feel too out of the blue if we get it all next week. Especially with the second half of this episode and the blatant foreshadowing for Kazuma showing up, and the big teaser flashback of Kagura and Kyo as kids. So at the very least I think that even new fans would know that something’s about to come up, and that there’s some sort of secret that Kyo isn’t going to be able to hide forever, but it still just feels like too much to cover in one episode.

Anyway that’s about all I have to say about this episode. At this point I’m just preparing myself for all the stuff I want to say about the true form arc, lol. Even after emotionally preparing myself for it this entire season I’m still not ready. Though the idea that we might be getting the whole arc in one go next week rather than it being spread across two episodes is making me feel kinda emotionally unprepared, haha.

I can’t help but be really nervous because the true form arc is still one of my favourite parts of the whole manga and it means a whole lot to me, so I mostly just don’t want them to mess it up.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 24: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Chapters: 24/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Thor(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Time For Exciting Legal Bullshit, Loki Sincerely Apologizes For The First Time, Don’t Get Used To It Summary: Reader finally becomes Official, Loki starts to really get his shit together, Thor enables them both.

Andsvarr sat on the end of his cot, face in his hands to hide his embarrassment and his rage. Moments before, his father had stormed out in a fury, after bursting in and, in front of everybody, causing a huge row. Someone had informed him that Andsvarr had been removed from the honor of a room in the royal chambers, and relegated back into the barracks with the commoners. Someone had told him that you were now in that room, and Alarr, ever ready to find insult to him and his, had drawn some unflattering conclusions. Andsvarr had naturally tried to defend you honor, after all, he knew you; his father did not. All it had led to was a wrathful argument, and a disturbance of the relative peace of the barracks.

He would hear about all the lost sleep later, no doubt.

                                                                    *****

You were dressed and eating breakfast when Loki knocked on your door, and you bid him enter without any hesitation. He sat quietly at the foot of your bed, waiting to be acknowledged, which was very different for him, and you deliberately took a few more bites before saying anything. You weren't actually all that angry with him anymore, and after this week or so to yourself, just thinking and doing new things, you weren't all that frightened anymore either. Brunnhilde had told you that regular exercise could help with depression and anxiety, and she may well have been right. You felt strong now.

Loki was dressed rather fancy today, in a golden chest plate that was probably actually nornbein. It was covered in intricate scrollwork, matched to his bracers and greaves. He even wore his horns, though these were more of a crown than a helmet.

“You clean up nice.” You teased. “What's the occasion?”

“You are, my dear. I am taking you to see the History Hall, and it is being made into an Official Visit.”

So that was why your dress was more lavish than usual today. This one even had some beads sewn onto it, and the strings between the oval strap-brooches were no longer braided yarn, but strings of glass beads. Your sash was, again, no longer braid, but a length of embroidered cloth, with a buckle in the shape of a tail-biting snake.

“How Official, are we talking?”

“Oh, it's basically an inspection. That way, we will have the entire place to ourselves, and it will be sure to be in top shape. Afterwards, the king requests both our presences in the main throne room. This will also be very Official, if somewhat informal. It is to discuss your future: what you want, what we can offer, what it all means for you. So that you no longer have to be unsure of where you are going, or what to do with yourself. Does this sound acceptable?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I think that'll be really helpful. I like the room, by the way. It actually looks like someone lives here.”

“That is exactly what I was aiming for.” Loki said proudly. “If you would like, we can go into town, and I can take you to the shops, to get yourself some things. Toiletries, books, whatever you want.”

“I noticed that my mythology book has gone missing.”

“I removed it. It was full of misinformation, and it distressed you. I hope you don't find this too disagreeable?” He seemed to be actually apprehensive about your reaction; though his expression hadn't changed, there was a tenseness around his eyes.

“I'm not angry about that, if you're worried. I'm more...embarrassed by it all.” Finished with your meal, you stood nervously, and he echoed your actions. “I should have asked. I should have tried to find out if any of that was true or not, and instead I acted like...like that. I'm sorry, Loki. I'll always ask, from now on.”

You glanced up at him, entreating forgiveness, to find that he was not looking directly at you, but a little to the side. He held his arms slightly open, just far enough that you could fit between them. So that was his answer.

You stepped in and hugged him.

“There are many things I should have asked as well.” He admitted. “I was so sure I had everything under control. But you are a human, accustomed to a different life, and a different culture, with life experiences that I have no parallel for. I should have asked for your opinions, your thoughts. I didn't treat you like a person, and for that I...I also apologize. Going forward, let us not fear to speak to one another. Let us help each other to...Help each other.”

You looked up at him. He glanced down at you.

“It sounded better in my head.” He muttered.

“Loki Silvertongue, master of eloquence.”

“Now see here-” He mock-scolded, interrupted by knocking at the door. The two of you separated immediately, and Loki sighed heavily. “Yes, enter.”

Andsvarr peeked in. “Your Highness? A missive from the king.” He handed Loki a folded piece of paper, smiled and waved at you, and then took his leave.

Loki scanned the paper. “Hm. It looks as if we must rearrange our activities for the day. My brother wishes to see us first thing. The museum must wait for later in the day. Shall we?”

He offered his arm, and you took it.

                                                                         ******

The main throne room would soon deserve a better name, if the half-finished grandeur around you was any indication. There would be murals on the walls and high ceiling, several of them already sketched out and the painting begun. There would be tapestries or weavings, though right now, there was only one. It looked like there would also be ornate light fixtures, and perhaps some kind of mosaic on the floor. It was going to be very impressive, but for now, it simply felt like a construction zone.

One that, you noticed with gratitude, had been swept scrupulously clean.

Thor looked much more serious than you were used to, clothed in his own finery; silver and red. He too, wore a crown-like version of his helmet, shining wings framing his lengthening hair. To your surprise and confusion, he wore a golden eyepatch; something you had never seen him in.

“What happened?” You whispered.

“Oh, it's just eyeball maintenance day. The old thing needs regular cleaning and tune-ups.”

“I am suddenly thirteen times more nervous than I was before, thank you.”

“He has a mechanical prosthetic eye. Ha, did you think it was heterochromia?”

“After this, I'm going to go find a dictionary, look up that word, and then hit you with it.”

“The word, or the dictionary?”

“Step forward.” Thor commanded sternly. Your spine straightened. Oops. Probably should not be gossiping about the king, in front of the king.

The two of you crossed the rest of the gap between you and Thor, following the narrow strip of carpet all the way up to the stepped dais that held the throne. It was just a large and sturdy chair, nothing all that fancy. It didn't look very comfortable, but it did have a compartment on one side that held Stormbreaker. You wondered how often the King of Asgard needed a weapon in his own throne room.

“Loki Odinson, Aesir, Crown Prince of Asgard, Former King of Asgard. Heir of Ice. Spear of Ragnarok, Defender of Asgard. God of Mischief. Slayer of Laufey, Who Avenged the Queen, Foremost Seidmader, Secret Defender-”

It went on and on, a litany of Loki's names and accomplishments, spoken in a sort of sonorous almost-chant that reverberated off the walls.

“-Who is this that you bring before me? Present your petitioner to me.”

“I am pleased to present to you _____ ______, Native of Midgard, Bearer of the Sapphire Rune, Ax-Thief, Blade-Thief, Novice Sorceress, Survivor. Provider of Bread. Baker of Cinnamon Rolls.”

Wow, he had really liked them, hadn't he?

“I petition that she be appointed Seidkona to myself, that she may add her service to me, and that we may stand stronger together.”

“And why should I grant this appointment? State your reasons.”

Thor still sounded stern, but you could see the twitch of a smile on his lips, from the cinnamon roll comment.

This must all be some kind of special rite. Not only had Loki not lost an ounce of his noble posture under Thor's seeming 'doubt', but he seemed to expect it. Neither of the two had acted so formal before, but this ceremonial act must simply be the way these things were done, for the two of them to be so perfectly well-versed in the proceedings.

You, however, didn't quite know what to  expect. Thor wouldn't really refuse this, would he? Depending on Loki's answer? This was all already planned. But maybe this was all necessary to make it really official. Like a baptism for someone who has already converted, or a second interview.

“First, and also foremost: I have, one way or another, the right by birth, to gather a proper retinue of advisors and attendants. The Seidknona is among the most important of the advisory positions, and I feel that _____'s fresh and outside perspective would be most valuable in navigating life on this planet.

As a human who is learning Asgardian magic, she will be an important bridge between our peoples, and as an individual with a unique, personal connection to myself, it would be well for me to keep her close, and heed her.

And thirdly, I have an obligation to her, and her care. I have pledged to provide for her, and that includes more than just food, clothes, and shelter. It includes pastimes and opportunity, education and career. All of this can be wrapped up in this single appointment, one I am owed by blood, and one she is owed by word.”

“All noted. And you, _____ ______, what do you say on your own behalf?”

Your turn? What could you say that Loki hadn't? What made you worthy?

“Um, well. I stole your ax right out of your hand, and I'm only going to get better. Also, I'll make you more cinnamon rolls.”

Loki actually broke posture to glance sharply down at you. “You too.” You reassured him.

Thor broke the same, by laughing. “A bargain! I agree! Now, I'll just need you both to sign this and it'll be official...” From behind the compartment that held Stormbreaker, he retrieved a large book, and a wooden box. The book was full of runic writing, which you could not read yet, but when Loki signed, you could almost make out his name.

“Do I...Should I...”

“English is fine.” Thor said.

“But what does it say?” You wouldn't sign until you knew nothing objectionable was hidden in the runes. You were pretty sure Thor wouldn't lie about that. “Sorry if that's rude.”

Loki was smiling. “Suspicion is freedom, my dear. Always trust that first, for as long as it takes to find the answers. But do try to find the answers. Suspicion alone will not inform you.”

“You just don't want to get punched in the face again.”

He shrugged. “That part wasn't so bad.”

Thor cleared his throat. “This is merely fancy writing that boils down to your official appointment to Seidkona-in-training, giving you permission to exercise the powers and privileges of that title, and securing your agreement to fulfill the duties of the office. I'll have a translated copy delivered to you, if you would like.”

“Before or after I've signed? I mean, if I sign, and then I find something disagreeable in the copy, then-”

“Then you may use the power of your office to dispute it.” Thor said.

You looked between the two of them. “I can do that?” It hadn't occurred to you that you could fight back against the king.

“Of course. This isn't actually an absolute monarchy, no matter how much it functions like one. We do have a constitution, and it allows for a wide range of legal protections, up to and including the right to take legal action against my person.”

“Oh. Well. All right.” There was a lot you had to learn, and all of it as soon as possible. You signed, just hoping that you really knew what you were doing.

“There are also a few other documents for you to sign, if you wish.” Thor flipped the page. “This one grants you Asgardian citizenship. I can't do anything about Icelandic citizenship; that'll have to be a separate thing, if you want it. But this guarantees that the rights and privileges of an Asgardian citizen belong to you, that you are subject to our laws, our justice, and out protection. With this, you can't legally be removed from New Asgard without your or my permission.”

That sounded just fine. You signed the page without hesitation.

“And this one transfers legal responsibility for you from Loki, to myself.”

You glanced back and forth between them. “I don't understand.”

“It is a failsafe to secure your quality of life.” Loki explained. “Since you will be appointed to me, and spending a great deal of time with me, we might...get on each others nerves, you might say? This agreement forbids me personally from issuing you any form of punishment that might effect your life. I will not be able to banish you, have you detained or imprisoned, have you removed from your lodgings, nor contained within them. I will not be allowed to issue physical punishment, nor deprive you of any necessities of life or happiness, nor rescind any gifts or privileges previously offered. It even specifically states that I may not use magic for any of these purposes either. The responsibility for all of that falls upon Thor, and I must expressly seek his permission for any of it. Which I am unlikely to do over some petty squabble.”

“You agreed to that?” You asked, shocked at the amount of power over you that he was giving up.

He raised his chin. “I suggested it. I cannot have a Seidkona who tiptoes around me as if there is glass in her shoes. You must not fear to speak. I will still be responsible for your safety and your keeping, but he will be responsible for your legality.”

You signed without another word.

Both brothers looked immensely pleased. You were sure you did too: this took a great burden of worry from your shoulders, after all. Loki's power over your living conditions had been a source of anxiety for you from day one, but now he had willingly given up all that power. He hadn't even been forced to do it!

“From now on, you will be spending a great deal of time with me.” Loki said. “You will need to shadow me, be beside me at all times, watch and learn from me. You'll be learning the language, the history, and I will be more attentive to your magical training. I know this sounds a bit overwhelming, worry not; I won't pile too much on you at once. And you have proven to be a swift learner. I have every confidence that you will pick things up with all speed.”

That was very gratifying to hear, considering how borderline insulting he had been in those first few days of knowing him. Though, come to think of it, he had never cast any real doubt on your intelligence.

“And you'll be getting a stipend as well, so you needn't worry about being entirely reliant on me. You'll be able to resume what hobbies you have. Do you use a cellphone? We can get you one of those as well, should you require it.”

“Actually that would be really useful!” You brightened even more. A real job, education, companionship, some of the trappings of actually existing within a society...This was what you needed, to feel like you were a functional member of a community.

As a vacation, this whole situation had been terrible. But as a new life opportunity...

It had potential.

[kokoronopikuseru]

Review: Pixelogue

A little late to post this, but I intend to share details and reflect on the editing of Pixelogue, in hope that it will help editors and organizers who need advice. (If you’re not interested in editing info, just skip to the last section)

Details are in Chronological Order -

# Software:

I designed everything from scratch in AE, with all the stock plugins. I had to relearn everything I used to know about AE; I last used it extensively in Pixelophobia years ago and furthermore, I wasn’t really used to the new CC interface. I had to seek tutorials for every simple effect I wanted to execute. It sure was difficult for me. For english speaking editors, this is probably your main tool if you intend to do simple video animations and graphics.

# Planning: Song Choice

I had intended to use a Korean Indie Track as stated in the collab details page. Sadly, the music really didn’t fit the music. I spent about 3 days rearranging the clips in every permutation I knew. I didn't really manage to find an arrangement that suited the clips. The unfortunate reality for editors is that we are usually at the mercy of the submission clips. I finally chose something Tigres’ described as “Shawn Wasabi-like”. It was a major challenge for my editing since I wasn’t exactly used to creating work that is colourful or cheerful rhythm-wise. I had to have major re-planning if I wanted it to work out.

# Editing: Draft

My process for editing clips always starts from arranging the combos. I used Vegas for this since, well, it IS a video editor, and it is pretty fast in processing clips. For learning purposes, here is the link of my very first draft (https://youtu.be/kRDwXTnxXGw). I think it’s necessary to spend a longer time at this stage, so as to visualize how its gonna turn out. And of course, to ensure that this is the flow of the CV you really wanted. By this stage, you should also have planned out the fillers (as denoted by the empty instances in the draft) and roughly how long your intro and outro will be. 

# Editing: Intro

I didn’t really want to make something too kawaii. But yet, I can’t really escape the colourful imagery I imagined the intro to be. I compromised and made something that alternates between some modern TV visuals and old school TV visuals. 

Modern TV; I was greatly inspired by those colour wipes that vloggers used for their youtube channels. It was one of those common and simple transitions that AE users exploit regularly. I found ways to incorporate it in a radial and a rotating wipe. The font animations were all plugins in AE that I found. I wasn’t gonna edit every alphabet like the previous CVs I made.

Old School TV; I took most of my inspiration from the adjustment knobs on analog TV. I found that it goes well with the subtle static noise in the music track. Hence I employed selection circles, and drew an actual knob (not sure if you guys realised that was what it was supposed to be). I also warp bulge the static background as well as the words, to emulate the concave glass distortion present in analog TVs. 

And in the final burst of images, I made the clips alternate between 16:9 and 4:3, just to show the juxtaposition between modern and old school.

I really hope people notice all these small details. I didn't feel it was impactful enough, but I guess these are probably cool facts for those who are interested.

# Editing: Combos

I always render my CV in a 16:9 resolution, simply because it IS more pleasing to the eye now that computer monitors are no longer square. My preferences have yet to change. However, with regards to the clips, I have read enough indirect feedback that the cropping wasn’t something that most people liked. I took this criticism pretty seriously, and thought it was time for me to hop on the bandwagon, to try the new-age style of CV editing.

I had to put in much more effort to retain a 4:3 combo in a 16:9 visual space, with an additional need to create a secondary background layer. But because of this decision, it gives me more freedom to explore options of panning and perspective movements.

I create a blurred and expanded duplicate of every combo as a background. I thought it was great that I could retain the original colours and give the clips a “floaty field”. No one has done something like this before, so it was instantly cool and hip. It also gives more room and potential to play around with the transitions too. Eg, fading the background before the clip (transition from Tigres to popte). Interestingly, all the backgrounds all have different properties, namely position, scale and degree of gaussian blur. The reason was really because some clips were seizure inducing due to their extensive movements. I thought it would be nice to vary all of them, which adds a unique aesthetic touch to all the combos.

I am pretty new to editing in a 3Dimensional Space and camera tracking. I was intending to do something as simple and fluid like Talentica Neue. Well, I learnt it wasn’t as simple as I thought. I had about 5-6 Parameters of camera movements, and frankly till now, don’t really know what each one does. I highly suggest for editors who wanna try 3Dimensional camera tracking, watch more tutorials and try simple practice projects. Learning how to utilize it properly will extensively improve your editing game.

Oh yeah, remember to use the graph editor for EVERYTHING. Acceleration and Decelerations have too much aesthetic value to miss out on.

# Editing: Outro

Because I have spent so much time on all other parts of the CV, it’s only responsible for me to put in some effort on an outro which I am usually way too lazy to make. Yeah guys, it’s important to make outros too guys. I used the same warping and television static effect from the intro to retain a sense of continuity. It's simple and nice, I liked it.

# Combos; (Warning: Difficult to Stomach) 

I’m gonna be a little too frank about this- the quality of combos I received were lower than what I usually work with (I love my UPSB submissions tho). I guess this is the huge downside of organizing sign-up CVs to an international community that is slowly dying and regressing. It was even harder when most didn’t submit on time. I had only 7 clips by the deadline. I wanna admit that I had moments regretting that I was organizing Pixelogue as a majority-signup CV. Some of the filtered combos either didn’t fit the style of CV (really sorry padrace) or was just bad due to the lack of effort. Mostly bad.

But here’s the heart of the matter, this might really reflect the standard of the international community. 

I’m not sure if I am the only one who feels this way, but I feel that most of the current international CVs can be separated into two groups, the JEB invites, and the rest of us. Don’t get me wrong, I do acknowledge the high standards JEB spinners deliver. But I’m not comfortable with the fact that they don’t submit better materials since their combos are guaranteed to be featured, and mainly because the quality of an international CV is often a 50/50 hit or miss (could be lower). Who can blame them really. Even so, their names are usually enough to make the lineup look great. 

> Pixelation was an all JEB sign up CVs. Pixelarium, Pixelophobia, Pixelography, Pixeholic were invites-only CVs, a mix of international and JEB guys. <

Most of my CVs have a JEB last spinner or a JEB dominant lineup towards the end. (coffeelucky 6th is also guilty of this). Clearly, you can see how much we use japanese invites as a way to boost the “quality” and hype of our projects. Yeah, sucks to admit it, but I am sure these are common sentiments shared with many of us international CV editors for a pretty long time.

Well, its not something I’m really contented with. In fact, I don’t like the way this becomes the norm. 

More recently, around the time I released “Express 12.1.18”, I really wanted to believe in us - the international community veterans, the borderline pen spinning retirees, that we can perform. I didn’t wanna believe that the international community was any inferior. I finally felt ready to edit something solely from our pool of people. I can accept that I don’t have to rely on japanese invitations to superficially enhance the CV. We have enough to make something great ourselves. 

I fondly assert that the international community does NEED this kind of confidence. Otherwise, we will always be second rated. Seen as the lesser beings. Y’all JapEn tiering meme-lords know what I’m talking about. I personally  needed this to prove to myself that it will work out for us even when the scene looks pretty shitty now. And yes, I did feel better after this.

# Conclusion

It didn’t really garner much attention especially when there was a flood of CVs being released around the time it was released. But I do love it a lot. It’s made up of familiar spinners that I cherish, good combos that I’m thankful for, and finally, an editing that drained my whole summer holiday away. Yeah, I do love it a lot. Definitely one of my proudest work.

[emmaruthrundlesh]

Dispelling Genres with Emma Ruth Rundle // Addicted Mag

(Via Addicted Magazine) Following Emma Ruth Rundle’s stunning set at Sneaky Dee’s in Toronto, we sat down (in this case, stood under an ATM security light) and discussed her new album, her new home and uh, music.

The review of her show can be found here.

Let’s start from the beginning.

I grew up in L.A. Both my parents are musicians. My mom plays harpsichord. My dad’s a pianist, my stepmom is a bass player. They met in a band. I just grew up around a lot of music.

Did you grow up listening to folk music?

It was all kinds of music. And I think the folk music thing really took hold when I started to hang out at the McCabe’s Guitar Store when I was a little girl, taking Celtic harp lessons. Then went on to work there for 13 years. So I think that’s where the folk influence originated. I think it was just from being so steeped in every element of what that multifaceted establishment was. It was about the concerts, the lessons, the repair and retail.

What was the first album that you bought with your own money?

Probably In Utero, to be honest, it was Nirvana.

About your songwriting process, you start on acoustic guitar. Do you come up with ideas in standard tuning and then work out your chord voicings?

No. I Inherited the open tunings also from the guitar store. If you handed me a guitar in standard tuning, I would have a hard time with it. I mean, at some point, I started tuning the guitar in a way that made more sense to me. I heard somebody else start changing a string and then I thought well if you can do it to one string, why can’t you do all this to all the strings, just rearrange it all. So for me, mostly my voicings , the root is usually on the fifth or sixth string. Using those open strings a lot in the chords, its makes them more of a modal thing.

You give yourself a lot of work.

I actually think it’s so much easier to play guitar like that. What’s hard about what I’m doing now, on this tour. To have a guitar in all the tunings, I’d have to have all of Kevin Shields’ guitars. If I was really wealthy and had a dedicated guitar roadie. That would be amazing. But it’s not the case. What I use is a combination of two guitars, sometimes it’s three and then capoing around. it’s been difficult actually to relearn the patterns of the songs in those different positions on the fretboard, it’s throwing me off a little. Not feeling super comfortable with it yet. I have tried to learn standard. I did take some classical guitar lessons a couple of years ago. It’s like. I do want to learn standard, be more proficient.

The genre that you tend to be put into, seems to be called gothic folk or dark folk

I don’t think this is folk music at all.

And yet in my research, I keep seeing it called folk music.

It’s because somebody said something and then everyone else just repeated it. I think that there are folky moments on the records, especially on Some Heavy Ocean, but I don’t think it’s folk music.

Maybe because it’s hard to pin down, if someone needs to classify your music…

I think Americana would make a little more sense in the mix with some other things. There’s a grunge influence. There’s a shoegaze influence, there’s post rock. There is, maybe, a touch of some country songs. And there’s a lot of 90s music. You know, I’m surprised people aren’t like “this is the drop tune Cranberries”.

That brings me to a point because as I’ve been listening to the new album, On Dark Horses, there are elements in these songs that lead me to think ‘that could be a pop song’. Play it in a standard tuning, throw in a little piano and a soft beat…Let’s get to the new album. I think it’s fantastic.

Thank you.

(Producer) Kevin Ratterman is credited with doing pretty much everything behind the board including engineering, mixing and mastering.

Yeah, he even played some keyboards and some guitar. He’d be like “I’m going to mix the song” and you’d come back and he’d say “I just added this little moment here”. He’s a very colourful creator. He’s got that creative fire. He’s a very special person. He moved to L.A. sadly. Kevin will come back. I was attracted to working with Kevin because of the Young Widows album, In and Out of Youth and Lightness, which is my favourite Young Widows album. That’s another reason why I fell in love with Louisville and Evan. I did a tour with them 10 years ago. I became enamoured with Evan’s guitar playing immediately and then listened to all their albums and that record has this wonderful theme in its sound and that’s Kevin and I think he did that for this record. He captured this sonic palette. It just has a colour and it’s Kevin. Once you know him and you’re around him, you see that he’s so in the records that he’s made.

On Dark Horses seems like the kind of album that you can continually listen to and still pick up new little pieces in the background.

He’s hidden a lot of little things. I love what he did with the bridge in Darkhorse where he did this panning so drums become the horses running around you. It’s very cool.

It’s good to have a producer thinking creatively like that.

Exactly, and Todd (Cook, bassist) and Evan and Dylan. Having them as well really changed it for me too.

Do you have a favourite off the album?

Darkhorse and Control are my two favourites

You Don’t Have To Cry is the song that I listened to again and again

I think a lot of people love that song and it’s our encore. I wrote it for my friend, Blake.

You write a lot in what I think of as vignettes or abstractions. There​ isn’t really a narrative in your songs.

It’s all about my life, my music and my lyrics…

Your lyrics can be interpreted in different ways. I think that’s the kind of music that people grasp onto. They can make it about themselves as well.​

I think that that is perfect. And that’s one reason why I don’t want to talk too much about my things, because some of is explicit in nature and I don’t want to really directly divulge those things. But it is meaningful enough and I think that some of it is charged in that way. That’s what music did for me when I was younger. That was the ultimate thing, when music could do that.

Of course. When someone says a song saved their life, it’s never a pop country song about tequila and trucks.

Yeah, It’s hard to find it now.

Which is why people grab on tight when they do find it.

I’m definitely like that. I have certain albums and I just listen to over and over and have for years.

What’s the one that you still gravitate to?

Well, for the last few years,. I would say 40 Watt Sun. The Inside Room. I listen to it almost every day. But that’s not like a nostalgic classic record from my childhood. It’s a discovery in my adult life. It did that cathartic thing for me that’s just so rare. That’s some serious soul music from my perspective

Why did you move from LA to Louisville?

It’s a fantastic place for artists. There’s a tight little scene of people. I think the great thing about it is that it’s very affordable and there’s a good quality of life. People are down to earth and we have a nice little situation there. Sometimes I start to feel like I’m trapped in the Beetlejuice town a little bit. And I do miss LA a lot but we get to tour.   (Pause).   I couldn’t go back. It’s kind of what Dead Set Eyes is about, leaving LA. Louisville is a great place. These fine people are from there (pointing to Jaye Jayle as they load out). Like my family. It’s kind of a long story. I was on tour, Jaye Jayle and ERR released the split record (The Time Between Us) last year, those were b-sides from Marked For Death and from their album, House Cricks. And the packaging, we just made it like this weird country romance. So we had this wild idea, since I was got asked to play Roadburn and do a little tour in Europe. Because I had very little funds, the idea was to combine the bands, have them learn my music and they would open for me. Then they would back me up as my band. That was Cathy’s wild idea (Cathy Pellow, founder of Sargent House) and she’s full of wild ideas. And I came off the Deafheaven tour and had split up with a partner. At some point earlier in the year, I was just kind of like gypsying around. I went back to Denver with Dylan (Nadon), that’s my drummer and Jaye Jayle were on tour with Oathbreaker. So the plan was they were going to finish their Oathbreaker tour and we were going to rehearse for four days in Louisville. I would go to Louisville and then we would all together fly to Europe and play Roadburn and do this tour. And I just thought, they were playing in Denver the next day and thought why don’t I just get in the van with you. I’ll sell your merch for the next two weeks and then I don’t have to fly to Louisville. I’ll just get a free ride, we’ll all have a wild time and I���ll help you out. And I got in that van and I just never got out. And now I’m married to Evan, So it’s a pretty good deal.

Talk about collaborating with Evan (Patterson, husband, Young Widows/Jaye Jayle songwriter and singer) .

Light Song is a love song. And so, he’s the answer, you know. I sang on their album. We did that record right after we came back from Europe. I had to cancel a bunch of shows because I was physically destroyed. I just went to the studio to recover and he had written that song (Marry Us). It was so weird. Like a sort of strange magic. He wrote that song before I got in the van. I sang on it. We had been singing together on tour. We were singing Run Forever when we played that song live. Those two songs, Marry Us andLight Song are like secret partner songs. So, if you’re a fan that’s paying attention, it’s kind of a cute thing. That there’s these matching love songs on the records that we both sing on together. I think it’s cute.

I do too! Thanks for talking to us, congrats on the new album. Have a great tour.

Photo by Geert Braekers

[erlenmeyertrash]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool).

positivity IS cool my dude. and i’m going to extremely challenge myself by finding the time i did this MONTHS ago (e o n s) and making myself do five OTHER things. because self positivity is hella cool. oh queso

…now i’m mad because i already used two of the ones i thought of uGH

alsO get ready for the ramblies under the cut because :) i :) like :) to :) talk :) it’s just me fleshing out each one for literally no other reason that the aforementioned/extremely obvious love of the ramblies

the shortened version is: 1. i like that i want to fill spaces; 2. i like that i have an independent self from other people or ideas; 3. i like that i can both talk and listen; 4. i like that i’m not afraid to speak in public; and 5. i like that i have a life plan

1. i like that i want to fill spaces. i like that i have this section of my bedroom wall covered in sticky notes and notecards of quotes that i like; i like that i have this burning desire to decorate my new bedroom/living room when i move (in august i caNT WAIT) with a tapestry and pretty curtains and throw pillows and little plant bowls. i like that when i get my first house i already know i want nice-smelling candles in like every room and shelves full of books and mementos and pictures lining a hall or a shelf or two. i love designing or rearranging or making a space feel clean yet lived-in, and i love that i love it. 

2. i like that i have an independent self from other people. in the past, i’ve been the type of person to mold my personality to certain groups- from like second or third grade all the way up to last year, i remember doing it. it’s happened in past relationships, too. it’s like ‘oh, this person seems to like when i showcase X aspect of my personality, better Do That All The Time Forever Around Them.’ it’s negatively affected me at times, whether it’s been changing my personality/viewpoint on things to something i now regret (the whole Being Mean And Eternally Sarcastic/Aloof Is Cool in middle/early high school deal) or simply exhausting me from trying to be something that i am, but not totally am (pretending to always be happy when that’s physically impossible to do, thereby ignoring negative emotions and never properly dealing with them). i’m forever clingy and an incessant people-pleaser, but it morphed into attempting to change or hide parts of who i was in order to keep people around. i’ve only recently been strongly attempting to change this part of me by forcing myself first to realize it’s okay to be who i am, even if parts can seem contradictory (being social one day and wanting to be a recluse the next). i’m in a relationship rn (for those of you who remember That God-Awful Drama With Snow White, yes, it’s still the jo bro, he’s p darn cool), and i decided right off the bat to throw caution to the wind and totally be my weird self around him with changing moods and steadfast ideas. sometimes it makes me uncomfortable when our opinions clash, or self-conscious when my brain tells me “oh, he’s going to get tired of you being like X, you need to not do that/not tell him when you feel like this,” but i think it’s helped me grow as a person and made us closer. i’ve realized people who care about you will understand you can’t always or never be/feel a certain way and they’re totally fine with it. b a s i c a l l y i like that i ‘found’ who i was and have learned to be more accepting of it. and yes i could keep going with this :)))))

3. i like that i can talk (woahhh never woulda guessed right) and listen. i used to always feel like (and was told by some people) i talked Too Much™ and never listened to people. it made me feel ridiculously self-centered and try and shut myself up or exclude myself from conversations for fear of shutting others out. the issue was that i did enjoy listening to people; i think, looking back, part of it was just my age/maturity level!! and wanting to say the Perfect thing to be accepted and fit in to whatever group. now, i think i’ve found a more healthy balance. i’m more aware of when it is and isn’t a good time to have a longer discussion; i’m more capable of not interrupting (or if i do, apologizing and holding my tongue, and knowing they’re not crucifying me for it). i’m also able (and love) to sit back and listen to someone ramble about something they feel strongly about or have a unique opinion on. i think i like this about me because i like being heard- so much to where i realize others probably also like it, and i appreciate that i’m able to accommodate it from both perspectives.

4. (a continuation of 3 but still its own thing) i like that i’m not afraid (or. well. no longer completely terrified) to speak in public. sure it can freak me out sometimes; but i was in a high school organization (mock trail anyone? yeah r i p) that forced you to basically perform an hour-long improv show that combined acting with wits and being able to think on the fly (all while wearing a gross suit. like. cmon.). i was in charge of freak fracking closing arguments, which- if you’ve ever watched a Lawyer Show- is the one at the end where they have to make a persuasive speech to the jury entirely based on what transpired in the case. since the events of the case always changed based on your opponent/judge/etc., i had to prepare this five-minute speech as the case was going (while being involved in the case itself as an attorney) and then, once the case was over, immediately present it to the jury of (Real Actual Adult) attorneys. the first few times i did it, i was so scared. but when you’re forced to do something outside of your comfort zone enough times, your comfort zone can morph to accept it (note!!! that this is not me telling you to force yourself far outside of your comfort zone. you don’t see me signing up for Cliff Diving Camp here). it helped me learn how to better carry myself; i can tell it helped my conversational and debating skills, especially with superiors or adults who are More Adultish than me. it helped me learn how to cope better with the jumble of nerves i (still) get before speaking to multiple people or crowds. 

5. i like that i have a life plan. i especially like that i can modify parts of said plan and still believe that i can reach my goals and be happy and content with my life. the current plan is survive these next two years of college, apply to pharmacy school, get into pharmacy school, kick pharmacy school’s butt, and then get a rockin, well-paying permanent job with decent hours so i can play with Oggo and buy him Every Single Toy That Exists In The Universe.

3 and 4 combined have helped me learn how to be more assertive with my thoughts and self(™) and know how to get what i want- which in turn forced me to learn what the heck i wanted, therefore leading into 2 and 5 and discovering 1. and writing all this has made me realize that while i do still have issues with self-confidence, i actually really do like parts of who i am. so thank you anon for this lil burst of confidence on this fine saturday morning ily ♡♡♡

[literallytouko]

long post  ahead venting about a recent cosplay experience

I was supposed to be in a cosplay group this weekend run by a somewhat well known cosplayer. She has a lot of sewing experience and had recently made a pattern for the  group’s characters, which I bought and made. There was an understanding that if you got good photos of the cosplay, she would reimburse you for part of the cost of the pattern, but you didn’t have to buy the pattern, you could purchase the costume finished elsewhere or do it yourself or whatever. Quite frankly, I just wanted to do the cosplay and meet up, it seemed like fun, it was a character I had wanted to do for a long time but was too shy, and I wasn’t really  concerned about trying to get reimbursed for the costume.

 I worked super hard on the cosplay, right up until a few days before the con, and quite honestly stressed myself out a lot. The cost of the pattern was a bit pricey, but I didn’t mind because a) it was to support a fellow cosplayer, b) it was supposed to come with video tutorials walking you through the costume. However the creator wasn’t able to produce the videos, she said she was having trouble with the editing software and she couldn’t complete them. She had one already existing that covered how to make a small portion of the costume but the rest was left alone. There were no other instructions. The pattern pieces themselves, once assembled, were very nice, but there was a lot of the construction that was left unclarified, and frankly, while none of it was incredibly difficult, I really needed those instructions. At almost every step of the process, I realized I had done something wrong, or backwards, or in the wrong order, and had to rip the stitches of what I’d just done and start again. The whole thing took me probably twice as long as it should have Furthermore, the pattern didn’t include things like notions or amounts of fabric. The pattern maker made a post in a private facebook group for those cosplaying as to recommended fabric types and amounts and other needful things, and while most of it was fine, the amounts of fabric and interfacing needed were grossly incorrect. I’d almost be willing to say it’s my fault for maybe cutting the fabric in an inefficient way, but as there was also no cutting guide with the pattern, I really have no clue. At the very least, the amount of recommended interfacing was not enough, compared to the pattern. I worked through it all and made do. I had a long delay in the making of the costume because I had to order more fabric to complete it.

The con came, and the group itself couldn’t agree on a day and time to meet. At the formation of the group, a couple of months before, one day seemed to be agreed upon, but about a week before the convention, another member wanted to change it, because the girl who was leading the whole group, who had created the pattern, wanted to compete in this outfit at the cosplay competition. Which is fine, and she’s welcome to, but some of us had already made plans that can’t be rearranged. We all sort of looked to the girl leading the group for guidance - she was also cosplaying one of the main characters - but as it turns out, she herself hadn’t even finished her cosplay, and was up in her hotel room still sewing it, as well as at least one other costume. 

The originally agreed upon day and time came. About half the original group met up, and we ran into another girl cosplaying the same character as I was, and invited her to join us for a few fun photos. The girls I met were all nice, I liked ‘em a lot, and it was fun, but I was disappointed as a whole. The girl who didn’t finish her costume, who again created the entire pattern to begin with, was supposed to be my character’s counterpart, and all day in that costume I’d been asked “where is your ______” and I just had to tell them it was just me.  All in all it wasn’t a big deal, but I had worked really really really hard on this and was feeling a little hung out to dry. 

The next day arrived, the girl finished her cosplay, wore it to the costume competition, and won two awards.

 I get not finishing in time but I just don’t understand how that happens when we’re talking something that is your design, to begin with. It makes me question whether she actually had the instructional videos done, if being unable to edit the videos was just an excuse. I don’t know how you can also let down a group that large, but still go on to compete. I mean, at that point, what is done is done, and there is no real reason she SHOULDN’T have competed, it would just make me, personally, feel guilty, is all. it’s totally possible that the other half of the group that didn’t show on Day 1 was there on Day 2 so maybe she didn’t let down “the whole group” but I honestly have no idea. Also, I feel like you can make the argument that the whole cosplay group is to her benefit, so it feels a little weird to not show? Those of us that bought her product, she gets the benefit of having photos of real people wearing her work, which in theory helps her sell more patterns and make money. Why kind of blow off folks who in essence are doing you a favor? I was (and am) annoyed. but my partner was also very secondhand annoyed on my behalf. He probably could see how bummed I was, and having watched me put my blood, sweat, and tears into this costume for weeks, only to sort of see us snubbed, seemed to upset him, not to mention the way folks acted a little weird towards me as one character in what should have been a duo. He made a facebook post about it that wasn’t accusing, but I think it could have easily been read that way, and now the original pattern-making, group-leading, character-counterpoint-to-mine girl seems to be ignoring me on Facebook. I feel bad but also I feel like I, and other girls, might have been put into a less than ideal situation as well, and it’s poop all around. I hope she isn’t offended, I don’t know her well but she seems cool enough and I would enjoy being friends but also IDK. Honestly at this point, because I am feeling so underwhelmed by the whole thing, it’s put into perspective how hard I worked on the costume, with a pattern that was missing a lot of components that it should have had, and I feel like now I NEED to find photos of myself from the weekend, because like...had I had a good time, I would have felt justified in paying as much as I did, but now I feel like it wasn’t worth what I paid.

I absolutely DO NOT want to get caught up in cosplay drama, that’s the absolute last thing I am about; I just like dressing up and hanging out with / making new friends. Maybe that’s what disappoints me the most, I worked hard to be a part of what should have been a really great experience to hang out and make new friends with folks, bonding over a common experience of having made these costumes and liking these characters, but the making of was way more difficult than it needed to be, and I thought the end result of actually meeting up would be more fulfilling but it was just kind of a wah-wah-wah moment.  

[skipzujinskip]

goals for july 2020

In order for me to be on a roll, and get usual indecisive and messy ass together. I am gonna just set some goals and try to be a better person than I was yesterday. Aye it’s never too late to start a new beginning and its never too late to start on these goals and work hard for the results. In a perfect time to occupy myself in a lot of things and keep myself busy due to the COVID-19 situation, it’s time to be properly committed. 

JULY 2020 GOALS

Get my STUDYING ON A ROLL

NO MORE LEAVING SHIT LAST MINUTE!!!!! Being a Fashion Marketing Uni student is NO FUN AND GAMES! 😭There is a whole lotta madness and elements to it all and let me just say, I WAS NOT PREPARED THIS YEAR TO EXPECT ALL OF THIS. So far I am lucky this trimester after the first set of assignment, the weight of all the assignments are a lot lighter since the first of assignments were kinda hectic but you know, you gotta channel that inner phoenix rising from the fire. The current set of assignments are more group-based and more creative and fun:

Fashion Blog - The most creative yet challenging assignment for the Fashion Influencers class. I am still yet to decide what platform to really but this blog through, we already have a name though 🤪, ‘CrazySweetSavage’. I still need to decide what to post and what kind of direction I am heading with the blog. I just believe this fashion blog can be more than just an assignment for me, it can be something I can really air out my creativity without feeling any pressure. Instagram is great but I feel so iffy for some reason and I don’t know why. Maybe with this fashion blog it can get me outta my comfort zone and I can really gain more confidence in showing off my creativity cause I am still timid about it I guess?! 🤨

Marketing Plan - Aye, we just finished the first assignment for the Marketing class. I am yet to expect what there is to this but WE WILL BE ON A ROLL FOR THIS ASSIGNMENT. I swear on my knees I will slay it. 😊

Group Projects - The last two classes which are Critical Survey and Business Strategy and Design Thinking are both group efforts. I am happy to work with two of my closest friends in uni for both assignments but I am questioning if I am making enough effort 😔. In both assignments, we are exploring the topic of size inclusiveness and innovations we can come up with to meet problems of the topic. 

Hopefully I CAN ALSO GET MY NOTES DONE! 🤬I have been slacking off it so we better get a move on. I got my whiteboard so I can organise what days and the time to do it all. Even with the second lockdown in Melbourne, I got less shifts at work and there is NO EXCUSE not to do it all. 😤

Getting my BODY ON A ROLL

I have been slacking off of Chloe Ting’s workouts after a while... Well 2 weeks and a half to be exact 😳! Ever since I lost my last pair of contact lenses I have not been able to do my workouts. I know, I know!! EXCUSES, EXCUSES. Really, I cannot workout when I am blind and I rely my workouts on my flatscreen with Chloe Ting on there. I should memorise the workouts after a while of doing them but I have a pint sized brain and memory 🙈. 

Along with the absence of working out, my eating habits have become worse. It became Maccas, HSPs and a whole lotta pure junk. I also HAVEN’T BEEN DRINKING THAT MUCH WATER, which is UNBELIEVABLE 😑.  Back then, I was eating good, I needed at least some veggies every meal along with a protein, and on mornings I would enjoy a nice warm sweet bowl of oatmeal, honey and sliced bananas 😔. 

Here are the fitness/body/lifestyle(?) goals I need to keep up with in order to achieve my body goals before this year ends:

WORKING OUT -  I am giving my self an hour a day or at least three days a week depending how intense the workouts I follow by Chloe Ting are. I trust Chloe Ting cause it seems like I can actually see results since other people has done them. I had seen a difference til those tragic last 2 weeks happened 😤.

EATING HEALTHY - I need to go back to my diet of having protein with veggies and portion off some carbs. I also need to aim for a least a day or 2 for cheat meals. 😩MY HABITS WERE TERRIBLE THOSE 2 WEEKS. Also, I am going to need a list of fruits and other stuff to satisfy my deadly sweet tooth 😁. I also need to get my water consumption ON A ROLL. 2L a day, let’s get that bladder moving per usual. 

I need to also remember that - IT IS NOT A RACE, IT IS A MARATHON 😉!! Nothing comes overnight and that I need to earn it just like what I did with my job at work. 

Have my room/home-life ON A ROLL

I live in a pigsty 😕... I come home to mess and shit all around my room and it is seriously and unbearable. Happy home = happy mood. I don’t know how I can get my lazy ass to get up and clean around. However with all this goal setting, hopefully I can pick myself up and get to it. Even after cleaning, I NEED TO MAINTAIN HOW NEAT IT IS 😩!! Not to worry, I just gotta channel my inner Monica Gellar and we will get there. 

The To-Do list for my room:

Re-do closet: I have a lot of clothes that are just lying there and have not been worn once this year and yet I still keep buying and buying 🤡! I might create a sack of of unwanted clothes and ship it off my relatives to the Philippines or to a charity store. Even with my retail job, hopefully I can rearrange my closet nicely. 

Clean up my desk: Arguably the easily messiest part of my room. I am not really satisfied with my desk and every time I clean it, I still feel just BLEH about it. I might revamp it and just order some desk decor so hopefully that is better. 

Find some storage for OLD UNNECESSARY SHIT: They may be unnecessary but these things can at least help someone or just be put away or burnt. I have no idea. I got old school books under my bed and in my closet and that shit needs to go!! 

As I said before with LOCKDOWN 2.0 being around, there are no excuses not to clean! 👺

WORK & MONEY ON A ROLL (🤔)

I don’t know LOL 😂!! Like I said before, I don’t have much shifts due to the current situation. Therefore, I see less $$$ going into my account. However, once again, MY LAZY ASS needs to apply for youth allowance. The whole application takes ages and I understand! Ever since I have gotten this new Macbook AKA my beautiful Ramona, I have became so broke like I NEED TO GET THIS stuff outta the way.

The priorities right now:

GET THAT DAMN APPLICATION DONE. 

However I need to check if the place is still open cause the documentation that I need to supply, I cannot provide proof for some reason so I gotta get there myself. 😫THE STRUGGLES ARGHHHHH!!

Me needs to be ON A ROLL. period. 🤭

In order to get myself on a roll, thus this far, the goal setting and this blog will hopefully put me on a right track. I have been doing really shitty things to cope with it all, I don’t wanna go in depth cause I am gonna get all these things coming on to me like:

“WTF DON’T DO THAT”

“THAT IS STUPID”

“WOW SO DRAMATIC, IT ISN’T THAT DEEP” 

Honestly, my mental health has been all over the place this year. I mean last year was when I was on my lowest of all lows. With so many things arriving to me, it gets too much sometimes. I mean, I would have never expected the things that happened this year to occur. Was I prepared for this new chapter of life? Absolutely not!! I have gotten new friends, a new job and new perspective in life. Life is a complete 180 compared to the messy year previously. 2019 was NO JOKE. I am grateful for 2020 and the new blessings I was offered. 

Somehow I feel like I have gotten it all in this life right now and it seems like I got myself together. That is not really the case though 🧐. Just like that song that Britney Spears sang, “Lucky”:

“If there is nothing, missing in my life then why do these tears come at night?...”

It’s obvious that I am not satisfied just yet. I still have a lot to go. There are so many things I need to work on and that is on my self esteem, my confidence and really trusting myself and being able to forgive myself from past experiences. Most of these are due to because I do not have a significant other or nobody “hitting me up”. I know, why the fuck do I honestly need someone to satisfy myself? I just feel the pressure of being that 19 year old that has not really fell in love with anyone yet. I mean my lucky 13-15 year old self had experienced what it was like to fall in love for the first time. In all seriousness, being in love in your early teens is way different to falling in love in your late teens to young adult ages. In that late teens to young adult stage - love is strived for a long term. Maybe I strive for a longterm relationship and that is why I am very careful with who I fall for and let in. 

Nowadays love has no limits in terms of everything for me. Let it be a guy or a girl. Maybe I am not in a relationship yet because I am not ready for it and I just need time to really focus on myself and really heal whatever is hurting. I have all these amazing opportunities that the universe has provided me, maybe love is not what I need right now and I need to understand that. The thought of not having anyone hitting me up or not being in a relationship has really made me insecure. I always thought I was either too fat, too ugly or too “out there”. At the end of the day, that person would love me for who I am and the way I am, that person would not want me to change a damn thing about myself. It’s all a matter of just waiting. The universe is really taking its time for the person that will soon reach out to me and who I will reach out for. 

I often put myself down because of this but at the end of day, this is my life and that I cannot keep putting myself down. I need to be more kinder to myself and really give myself credit. I am progressing myself through just accepting the past for what it is and really becoming a person that i’ve always wanted to be. I want to be someone that is caring, someone you can rely on, that is there for a fun time. I am reaching the path of wanting to become someone that is passionate and committed for what they wanna do for the future and really pave a way for people. I am so much different from the past but there are still things I cannot accept but I will get there hopefully. 

I also need to trust the universe and its magic. However, those pick-a-card readings and horoscope readings have given me more of an understanding why I am feeling this way and to understand myself better. So to simplify, patience and trust is what I need to build on and equip and just believing in myself and what the universe has to offer. I believe the universe is crafting something for me that impactful and hopefully just beautiful. 

Basically I need to work on:

Being more kinder to myself

Being more patient with myself and the universe

Believing and trusting the universe and what it is doing

Forgive yourself from past mistakes

Be grateful what 2020 has given you. 

I also need to work on stuff that will make me less lonely when I have those days or those moments. I feel like my worst enemy when I am by myself. So I need think of ways that will uplift and brighten me up and can improve in taking care of myself better. 

Watching more anime - Let’s try and get through Sailor Moon and all of those Netflix animes and other people’s recommendations 🤩🤩🤩

Being committed to my daily and night skin routine - Just because I feel depressed or sad does not mean I cannot do pamper up!! GOD DAMN ZU! 🤨Since we are not able to go to the city which where I get all my skincare goodies from, we are going to need to research and choose wisely products that are accessible around me and MAYBE find something online. I don’t trust online stuff but whatever. 

It’s gonna take a lot of time and there is a lot of things on my plate clearly. All of these goals will hopefully get me on a roll to a more HAPPY, POSITIVE AND BRIGHT direction in life. I always have to remember to be grateful for the blessings that have been provided for me and to really work hard for more blessings. I never deserved what I have, I always had to earn through working hard for what I always want in this life that is the way of the knight. 

This is the knight signing off, heading to getting myself and my “all over the place” ass on a roll ✌️!!

- Zujin De Torres

[uglymanchronicles]

UMC:R Chapter 4: Systems Check

This one’s a bit of a weird one--basically a heavy-handed excuse to describe my own character in weirdly homoerotic detail.  But it has some PATHOS and I otherwise had fun writing it.  There will be probably two more chapters before the prequel ends and we start getting back into where the original UMC started.  Enjoy!

“Fffffuck me.”

Evan really hoped he wasn’t falling into a pattern of sudden switches between consciousness and unconsciousness. It couldn’t be good for his brain. Speaking of...

He reached back and patted his head where it’d gotten intimate with the counter. There was some blood matted in his hair, but aside from that…

Evan sat up and turned around. There was a bit of blood on the counter, and some on the carpet where he’d been lying. But beyond a slight tenderness where his fingers touched the spot, there was no pain—and certainly no wound. How long…?

Evan pulled himself up, noticing how oddly easy it felt despite having very recently donkey-punched himself by proxy. The video was still going, but past-Evan had somehow unstrapped himself from the machine and was in the process of stumbling towards the camera. Before the screen went blank, Evan noticed the total length of the video. In comparison to what it had been when he’d toppled over, less than five minutes had passed.

In less than three minutes he’d almost completely healed from a potentially moderately-serious head injury. Not only that, assuming there hadn’t been any post-editing, his previous self had recovered enough from having his brain cored out to be able to free himself from a torture device, walk no worse than a six-drink-deep drunk, and manipulate electronics at least as well as a five-year-old.  How much damage could he sustain and still function? Was there a limit? Could he even die?

Introspection provided no answers, and Evan suddenly found himself very uninterested in the question. Right now, all he wanted to do was take a shower. Maybe that would help put things in perspective. Plus, it was after midnight; if he was going to seriously consider DIY-ing himself into a superhero, he’d do it best after a good night’s sleep. There was also the little matter of the blood in his hair, but that barely registered as a concern in the face of everything else.

His bedroom door was littered with post-it notes and taped-up signs demanding he watch the video on the laptop. He felt a slight tinge of resentment for the earlier version of himself. Sure, he’d gotten the point across, but for God’s sake, there was such a thing as going overboard! Evan ripped off a handful of the notes and crumpled them up as he pushed the door open.

He groaned. The bedroom was almost unrecognizable. About the only thing familiar was his computer, which had been moved to a corner of the room and rearranged on an apparently homemade shelf-slash-desk-slash-whatever. What surface wasn’t occupied by his keyboard and mouse was filled with pieces of machinery and small piles of electronic components.   He’d mounted his three monitors directly to the wall, apparently to save space; in addition, two flatscreen TVs, dated and obviously secondhand, hung on opposite sides of the corner of the room.  So many papers, pictures, and maps were stuck to the walls that the cables connecting the myriad electronics were completely obscured. Had he really gone full tinfoil-hat? Evan groaned as he noticed colored pins and threads weaving an intricate web between the numerous pieces of media. Yep. He’d gone full whacko. If there were any actual, legitimate connections there, the connections had been lost when he’d rebooted his brain.

God, he was getting tired of putting off seeking answers. The temptation to dive into all this nonsense and sort through it was almost overwhelming. But he knew if he sat down and started digging through everything he’d be there for days and wouldn’t get anything else done. He looked around again and actually heard himself growl when he realized his bed was gone. His mind went to the bundled thing on the roof of the RV. Great. He’d uprooted everything to make room for his craziness. There was something in the space where the bed had sat, but it was covered in books, binders, and cast-off clothing.

He’d bought a Bowflex and stashed his bed to make room for it. Had he done this after he’d drilled a hole in his head? It seemed like the kind of thing a guy missing part of his brain would do. He peered back out of the door and saw that the loft at the front of the vehicle had been set up into a sort of mini-bedroom, complete with a long, flat dresser. Well, that made some kind of sense, at least.  

Grumbling to himself about nothing specific, Evan hauled himself up to the loft to inspect what he was certain was a cluttered, hideous bolt-hole in his own damn home.  He was pre-emptively sighing as he pulled himself over the edge, but never quite finished it.  

“Oh.”

Another pleasant surprise. He’d actually set up a nice little room there.  The mattress was very flat but looked fancy, like the kind podcasts were sponsored by. The mattress was topped with neatly folded sheets, an understated but tasteful light gray comforter, and surprisingly plush pillows. A legless nightstand nearby held a small lamp, a bottle of water, and a notepad and pencil, all arranged very deliberately. A small pile of books of varying sizes sat neatly by the mattress, and a small adjustable shelf affixed to the wall held another laptop.  Across from the mattress, a small flatscreen TV hung on the wall, wrapping the whole scene up in a nicely cozy domestic package.

All in all, he was impressed. It was a quaint little living space cultivated out of what he’d formerly dismissed as a throw-away attic. He was a little miffed that the price had been his actual bedroom, but of all the things to begrudge his former self for, this was pretty low on the list. He hauled himself up and crawled to the dresser.  As he opened the drawers, he realized how strange it was to experience his own idiosyncrasies from the outside.  Each pair of socks was neatly knotted together, his boxers were folded perfectly square and sorted by color and pattern; it put him in mind of an adorably eccentric little old man, probably a watchmaker.  That seemed like the kind of person who’d fold his clothes with a t-square and index them.  The thought made Evan smile, but the wholesomeness of the image faded somewhat when he found himself thinking that guys like that usually wound up being serial killers.

Fresh clothes acquired, Evan hopped down and headed to the bathroom. It had been a hell of a thing to find an RV with a bathroom that wasn’t smaller than the average coat closet, but he’d scrounged around until he’d found a Class C model—the one with the bathroom you change clothes in without having to stand with one foot in the toilet.  He had never regretted the extra effort and cost.

He stood in the center of the bathroom for a moment, steeling himself. It was time to rip the band-aid off, figuratively and literally. He stepped up the mirror and stared himself in the eyes.

He could almost see his thoughts reflected in the blue of his irises. Did he really want to do this? Not this whole thing, but this, specifically. If he could heal from practically anything but still needed to have his face under wraps, it must be really bad. Maybe he could just wear a mask the rest of his life, never knowing what he actually looked like. Avoid the ugly truth.

Even while he was thinking it, he knew how ridiculous that idea was. The chaos of the past few hours was stirring up a lot of generalized anxiety that was sending his mind strange places. Drilling a hole in his brain less than a week ago probably hadn’t helped on that front, either.

Time to start that journey of a thousand miles, I guess.

He tied back his hair, took a deep breath, and started to peel the gauze away. Adhesives caught on small hairs, tender skin grumpily sent his brain pangs of pain as it was uncovered. The air on the uncovered skin felt alien, as if it was only touching his skin very reluctantly. Evan’s leg was shaking involuntarily by the time the last bandage landed in the trash can, and he had to take a few deep breaths before he finally raised his gaze to the mirror again.

“……fuck.”

His previous self hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests; if anything, he’d been understating the situation. He’d be lucky if he didn’t make kids cry when they saw him.

His left cheek definitely had the worst of it. His in-between-brown-red-tan skin—which he supposed could be called “ruddy”, but he liked to refer to himself as “ethnically ambiguous”—was covered in divots and spots from his mis-angled jawline up to just below his left eye. Evan slowly ran his fingers over his mottled skin, marveling at the variation between the individual pits, bumps, and gashes. There were actual small chunks of face missing. The texture of the skin was almost smooth to the touch but a little bit sticky, like the paint of an old house, complete with uneven coverage and bumps of buildup. Evan found that the skin didn’t hurt to the touch, but it also didn’t feel how skin was supposed to feel; his fingers didn’t immediately recognize it as skin, and the touch of his own fingers on his cheek came through muted and distorted, like the sensation was on a weak, distant signal. Christ. Was it a burn? No, it looked like he’d been too close to an explosion, all chopped up like that. Was it an accident or an attack?

Shit. It didn’t stop on his face, either. It had been hidden by his hair, but now that it was pulled back he could see that the pitting and gashes continued upwards along the side of his head. Pieces of his left ear were gone. Everything behind the top of the ear was a chewed-up mess. His lobe was still there, but not for lack of trying; a jagged tear ran from the back halfway to the front. It was like somebody had bitten the top of the ear off, then grabbed the lobe and tried to just yank it off.

After a few moments of staring at his ragged ear, Evan whipped his head around to check the other one. He sighed with relief as he saw it was intact, but the new angle brought the right side of his face into view. It wasn’t as bad as his left, but, unfortunately, his left side had originally been his ‘good side’; two long, curving scars, the result of an unfortunate incident with a turkey vulture during his teenage years, ran up the right side of his neck and peeked over his jaw about an inch up his cheek. Previously, that had been the extent of the damage to that cheek.

But now, in addition to a ton of tiny scratches and a few more small divots, his right cheek was taken up by a wide starburst-shaped scar that trailed off to a line and crossed his crooked nose like the tail of a comet, ending somewhere among the mess on his left cheek. It even looked like somebody’d tried to stitch it closed—upon closer inspection, the edge of the scar looked almost serrated. Clearly the stitches hadn’t held. He couldn’t imagine how much any individual part of that must have hurt.

His big, broad forehead was relatively unscathed save for a few “normal” scars, though a tiny triangular chunk of the far edge of his left eyebrow seemed to have left for greener pastures. After everything else, it was almost jarring how un-damaged he was above the eyes. Maybe he’d been wearing a helmet or something when whatever mutilated him happened. If it was just one incident.

Well, shit.  He wasn’t quite the most mangled person he’d ever seen, but…

He felt tears start to well in his eyes as his fingers gripped the edge of the sink.  It wasn’t fair.  He’d been handsome, if a bit unusually so, before.  Not that he’d taken advantage of it, but… to suddenly wake up to a face that was no longer his was frightening.  He was hideous.  Hell, he was almost a monster.

Evan’s heart pounded louder and louder as he fought back tears. There was no distinction between anger, sadness, and fear any more. A synesthetic mass of emotions stormed around his brain, crushing all his thoughts under the weight of pure mental chaos. He started to scream, a hoarse wail that pitched up gradually to a roar of insane fury as his whole body began to quake violently. He stared his mutilated reflection dead in the eyes as he continued to scream, a primordial, hateful rejection of the thing he saw before him. When he ran out of breath, he screamed between gasps; short, sharp shouts that consumed all the air in his lungs with each exclamation. He didn’t know how long he was screaming before something made a loud crack and came loose in his right hand.

Evan’s scream slowly trailed off as he looked down at the object in his fist. It was piece of the sink. In his rage, he’d gripped the countertop surface so hard that a palm-sized chunk of stone had broken off.

“What a cheap piece of…” Evan started to say, but then stopped. He’d dropped a hammer on the sink months ago and it hadn’t even chipped the surface. It didn’t damage easily. So what…

Evan’s eyes fell on his hand again. He’d always had huge hands, which stuck out on his lean, lanky arms like the end of a rake. Except his arm wasn’t lanky any more. He couldn’t pick out the bones in his wrist like he remembered. In fact, there was a lot more wrist than he remembered, circumference-wise.  Ditto with his forearm (more scars there, too…), and his elbow was similarly magnified.  And above that…

“JESUS CHRIST.”

Evan had never been a small guy.  Even as a kid he’d been tall and wiry, with limbs that seemed a size or two too long for his torso.  He’d hit six feet tall before he’d hit his 14th birthday.  In high school, he’d been involved in a lot of sports, but always ones where being dexterous and fast were to his advantage.  Even when he’d begun boxing he’d focused more on using his reach and stamina than developing sheer stopping power.  After watching his two older siblings become hulking behemoths of human beings, he was aware that his family had the potential to be extraordinarily beefy, but he’d tried to stick to keeping himself slim and trim.

Clearly, something in the missing months had made him reconsider his stance on the issue.  If his bicep was less than 24” around he’d be shocked.   He raised his hand to shoulder height, clenched it into a fist, and curled it backwards.

“God damn, son!”  Evan watched his own muscle bulge and shrink several times over, a grin slowly creeping over his face.  Okay, yeah, he could work with this.  That’d do just fine.  

Like a kid on Christmas tearing into the biggest present under the tree, Evan yanked his shirt off over his head with violent enthusiasm.  Underneath, he was still wearing that strange undershirt.  

“Weird sequin armor. Later,” he muttered, dragging the strange garment off and tossing it into a corner where it settled with a soft slithering sound.  Evan’s jaw dropped as he took in his bare torso.  Wide-eyed and still staring downwards, he sidestepped his way back in front of the mirror. His gaze slowly raised to the mirror again, and he realized his horrifying face was split into a massive grin. Even with his disfigurement, his sheer excitement was clearly evident. He took a deep breath, held it for a second, and then yelled again.

“Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaa-uhhhhh, BABY!”

He didn’t have a ton in the way of resting definition, but the bulk of muscle was undeniable. Evan spent a few moments flexing his arms and shoulders, marveling how his skin shifted and bulged in novel and fascinating ways. He was at least a foot broader at the shoulder than he remembered, and that was just the start of it.

His chest was borderline absurd. Like his shoulders, it had broadened, thickened, and rounded. Evan gingerly poked at his bulging pectorals. Firm, but not rock-hard. Enough softness to still feel like a person instead of an object, but still extremely supple. He felt his cheeks flush.

He had boobs.

But… like, good guy-boobs? That was a thing, right? Some girls liked that. Some guys, too, he thought, feeling his cheeks burning a little hotter as some cobwebs were dusted away from that particular corner of his libido.

He knew he was fully blushing now, but a strange and weirdly irresitable notion was punching through the fog of embarrassment. Fuck it, he was alone. Who was going to see?

Evan put his hands under his pecs, lifted, and pushed them together, leaning forward and pursing his lips at his reflection. He winked at himself and made a kissing sound, then burst out laughing. He had cleavage! Almost four inches of it!

Evan flopped down on the toilet lid, giggling madly to himself. “I guess the big tits gene doesn’t just affect the women in the family,” he managed to chuckle, hefting ‘the boys’ again. He looked almost hilariously sexualized. In addition to his new bustiness, he was still sporting nipple piercings and belly button ring—remnants of teenage rebellion that he’d kept as a cautionary tale to himself against impulsive decisions. The silver spikes and brass ring somehow looked more at home on his new body; when he’d been scrawny they’d made him look like he was trying to audition for a ‘Suicide Girls’ knock-off. If only he’d had paler skin and a heroin addiction he could probably have made a lot of money with a webcam. Now he looked like he could be on the cover of a harlequin romance—albeit one with a lot of airbrushing and somebody else’s head imposed on his body.

So he’d beefed up in anticipation of… whatever he could call whatever he was about to undertake. That explained the exercise equipment, as well as several containers of various supplement powders he’d come across while checking on his food situation.

Now that he’d finished with his giggle fit over his tits, Evan was a little surprised by how long it’d taken him to notice how much his body had changed. Everything still moved the way he remembered; he still felt very light on his feet, despite his new bulk. Standing in front of the mirror again, he bent from side to side at the waist, testing his flexibility.  Amazingly, he felt limber as ever. Apparently past Evan had done this bulking up thing right; despite the fact that his abdomen and obliques seemed to have been replaced with rock-solid slabs of beef, he was still able to easily bend down and touch his toes. While he was down there, he noticed that he hadn’t skipped the proverbial leg day, either—that, or he’d had a butterball turkey implanted into each thigh.

So… arms and shoulders three times bigger, a jaw-dropping rack, less “abs” and more “slab”, skull-crushing thighs and an amateur slasher movie face.  He looked weird. But… he found himself liking it more the more he thought about it.  He could do something about the face, or make it work for him.  Make looking like a brute work.  Be a fashion pioneer.  Figure something out.  

Now that his giddiness had died down a bit, Evan started looking himself over for other damage.  The video had said he’d have a massive wound on his chest, but he hadn’t even noticed it at first. There was, indeed, a large discoloration a few inches under his left nipple, reaching around under his arm and around to his back, but it looked more like a giant birthmark than a fatal axe wound. Why was it so faint?  Hell, the purple spot on his solar plexis, a sort of permanent bruise from a childhood injury, stood out more than it. His body was dotted with other, smaller scars that stood out much more; a few near his navel were definitely bullet wounds, and judging from the jagged pale lines above his right hip, a bear had tried to steal his kidney.  Regardless of their size, wounds that could cause scars that severe should have been still hurting him bit, even after external healing.  But he found that, aside from the scars, it was as if those injuries never happened.  No sign of any internal injury.  He felt extremely healthy, and he was grateful for it, but it wasn’t how that worked, and that started to eat at him.

The rules had changed and he had virtually no data on how any of it worked. He was no longer afraid, angry, or sad about his situation. Now he was annoyed. How was he supposed to go about this intelligently with only anecdotal evidence? The obvious answer was to start testing the properties of his healing, but what if there were strange rules?  Did he have a personal kryptonite? What if he cut himself, and it turned out the healing didn’t work because of what the blade was made of, and he got an infection and died? What if there was a limited number of times he could heal? Was it like an extra life system?

Evan stepped back up the mirror again, now glowering at his reflection. Now that he wasn’t as shocked by his own appearance, maybe he could figure something out in the patterns of the scars. Some kind of clue in the type of injuries or something. Just a starting point. Some tiny little verifiable speck of data he could cling to like a drowning man.

Before any answers surfaced from his ruined reflection, Evan noticed something sticking out from behind the mirror. The corner of a yellow piece of paper was closed in the medicine cabinet door.  He tugged it out and recognized his own handwriting again.  

Thought you might need these.

Briefly puzzled, Evan pulled open the medicine cabinet.  There, tucked amongst bottles of an alarming variety of supplements, was an old ‘Altoids’ tin, slightly dented and faded with age.  As he picked it up, a familiar skunky smell wafted into his nostrils. He snorted with laughter as he flicked the tin open and pulled out three meticulously-rolled joints and his favorite lighter.   After a second’s thought, he stuck all three between his lips and flicked the lighter open.

“Fuckin’ right I do.”

[andydubreuil]

Still Life Portrait - Garden Of Eden

I’m not known for still life photography and have only done a small amount over my time as a photographer, but I’ve used it to help teach me more about the finer detail on portraiture.

What do I mean by that? Still life is about having everything in the image just right, something that can get lost when working with people, because of time restraints or not having a direct idea on how things should look. You capture an image and then try to play on that to make it slightly better with movement, angle or light. But then when you come to editing you see the flyaway hair strands, slight loss of makeup, a crease in a shirt that looks out of place, things that could of been fixed before taking the image.

The process. This still life is full of objects, but you have to strip it right back from that. I have a glass plate thats about 90cm X 90cm that sits nicely on a small coffee table thats on wheels and is great to move around freely. To keep that blackness, I used a black cloth backdrop I have and setup a rig so that it went from around the back and round the left side of the table. I should of ironed the backdrop and stretched it round so no wrinkles could be seen, but I wasn’t too concerned about the backdrop and cleared that up in post-editing. I got a wicker basket bowl off eBay for £7.00 which is large and I thought was a bargain, and the fruit and flowers were from a local supermarket. The flowers I did put some thought into as I wanted some green in there to blend in with the fruit. My idea was a big pineapple as the centre piece and then everything blending in, this didn’t work at all. It took me a couple of hours just playing with the each piece of fruit and flower and rearranging time after time. This gave me a big respect for flower arrangers, I can tell you!

Detail - Detail Once I got so far with the arrangement, I then moved it onto the table and then it all change again. I soon worked out that I didn’t need to have everything laid out like it was on show and to be viewed from above. I remembered watching a video on food photography and how actually everything was place forward to look like it was the whole thing, when in fact it was only half and more of an illusion. So the rearrangement went on a lot longer, and to the point I felt that it looked good in that it all blended well together. Then I introduce two candles and played with that for a while, till I realised just the one was enough. With the first couple of shots, I just used a single light with a grid on a reflector. The light looked good, but I soon realised that another light with grid reflector needed to be added. I like grids as they don’t give that harsh light and gives you more room to play with the lighting. So by my 20th image, it all seemed to be coming together with the look and style, but now it was about detail. In my setup, I use Capture One tethered and then my MacBook wirelessly connected to my iPad with the use Capture Pilot App that lets me see the image on a large screen. As you begin to look closer at things, you see that one grape stands out as looking odd, a petal of a flower bent out of shape, all the small things that you only see when you look properly at the image in front of you. If you were doing this from the back of the screen on the camera, you would have problems. I just kept thinking detail, detail till I felt from my perspective, it looked good. For the final piece, I sprayed water on all of the fruit and flowers. Having those water droplets gives a sense of freshness, like they had just been picked straight from the garden.

Final Image It wasn’t till the 82nd image did I felt I’d got it. For me theres shaping and blend to the still life image, but all of the objects look right in angle and shaping. There is a point that you have to work with shapes as they can’t change, but makes a difference to where placed. This could be transform into portraiture in the way you place not just a hand, but a finger, an arm or leg in a certain direction that makes for a good image. Its just the final detail of things that move by themselves as the sitter relaxes during after taking of an image, its these little things that have to be constantly looked at again and again. I don’t believe it taking hundreds of images for the sake of it, just get it right within a few that shows the composition that you and the sitter are happy with, and means less of each other’s time wasted. Organic objects are harder to control than solid objects, they want to do things thats based on how they got there. So maybe my next project will be a box and how I can make that interesting, who knows, photography has no bounds.