#being a person with feelings instead of an emotionless object which is just as surprising to me as anyone else

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Abby confessing her love for you

You knew you were goner the first time you laid eyes on Abby Anderson. She was tough, guarded, emotionless, and serious about completing the task. Whatever it was Isaac put her charge of no matter the objective that was always her main focus. Despite her tough exterior and her knack for pushing people away whenever they tried to befriend her. Almost like it was her secret superpower or something.

You managed to worm your way into her heart with the resilience of a bear trying to protect its cubs, and the patience of a scorpion waiting for its poison to spread before moving in for the kill on its prey. If someone asked Abby how you were the one who got through to her first.

She didn't have an honest answer for them herself for she never understood how you did what you did. All she knew was once she let you in. There was no getting rid of you even if she wanted to. Abby found herself relying on someone else to keep her. Other than the need for revenge going for the first time since her dad's death. She'd do anything for you. There was nothing in the world you couldn't ask her to do that wouldn't be an automatic yes.

Unless of course you asked to be honest about her feelings for you. Because the second the two of you returned from scouting the outpost. You cornered her in the locker rooms knowing she would be in there to take a nice long, and hot shower. It was pretty late so no one else was present. You figured that would make it slightly easier to coax the truth out of her. Instead Abby gave you the run around insisting that yes while you were an important person in her life, and she indeed love you (like a friend) making sure to put an extra emphasis on the word friend. She wasn't harboring any feelings for you, or anyone else.

Abby then went on to make some stupid joke about her last relationship, and just how incompatible she was with anyone. You weren't buying it for one second, but nonetheless you still let it go. Knowing better than anyone if you pushed her too hard she'd shut down for a while.

But apparently that one push was enough because the next day Isaac asked you to report to him. He proceeded to tell you that for the next month or so. He was reassigning you to strictly supply runs only, and if you weren't need there. You were to report for dog duty every morning which included in helping training the dogs, cleaning up their kennels, and grooming them. No more field missions for you with reason being you showed reckless behavior on your last mission. That could've resulted in the death of either you, or you and your team.

"You got potential to be one of my best soldiers in the future y/n. I'll be damned if I lose you in the field because you want to be a show-off playing hero." Isaac scolded you with a grunt placing Abby's mission report on his desk.

Arguing with him wasn't going to change a thing. You might've been with the WLF longer, but Abby had way more experience in the field. Her history with the Fireflies and dedication to training moved her up the ranks faster than any other solider. She hardly ever went on a mission where she actually had to answer to someone else. So whatever she told Isaac was final.

The role change took place nearly two weeks ago, and you still hadn't adjusted in the change of pace. Plus the lack of action not to mention despite how pissed off you were with her. You missed Abby Anderson terribly. The two of you only saw each other in passing, and each time Abby avoided eye contact. Right now the supply run you were on took you a few miles away from main base. Abby had just returned from a pretty nasty confrontation with the Scars, and was resting up in the infirmary. You wouldn't be surprised if she had something to do with you being sent on a four-day run.

"Ahhh I don't see how these guys do this all day." You complained pushing the door to the lobby of the abandoned hotel open with your back. The room covered from top to bottom with containers filled with any items that were preserved and still of good use. With a grunt you heaved the large box in your arms up to stack it on top of more boxes. The pile held up not swaying the slightest bit.

You let out a sigh of relief leaning back on a heavier and stronger stack of containers. The person in charge would've made you clean it up alone if it fell. "This is literally the definition of grunt work."

"Wow its good to know how you really feel about us, and our contribution to the WLF's survival." A familiar voice chimed in only a few feet away.

You let out a surprise yelp looking up to see Nora positioned right in front of you. Her arms crossed over her chest, a single eyebrow quirked upward with a playful smile on her face. "How long have you been there?"

"Considering I'm in charge of taking inventory all day. What's in the box you brought in?" She asked her tone becoming a bit more strict for the moment.

"A bunch random clothes" You told her unsure of why it was important.

"They actually go over there." She pointed to the far left side of the lobby chuckling. At the way you groaned pushing off the containers. "Calm down I'll have some of the guys move it later."

You relaxed again shooting her a fake angry smile.

"So what did you do to get on Isaac's bad side. The only time he puts field operatives on supply runs is when we're navigating dangerous territory. And the only time he turns you guys into suppliers is when he wants to punish you." Isaac knew the change in pace of the work drew field operatives crazy.

"Its more like what I did to piss off Abby." You said unable to hide the irritation in your voice.

Nora's eyes widened a bit at your answer before her face scrunched up in confusion. "But you and Abby are like this" she stated holding up a hand with one finger crossed over the other.

"Yeah we were until I tried to make confess her feelings for me" You told her with a shrug. If Abby was going to lie about it why should you keep it a secret.

"Oh no you gotta start from the beginning girl" Nora demanded shaking her head. Not giving you a chance to protest she hoisted herself up onto a container adjacent to you.

You chuckled at her eagerness to hear some gossip, but knew nothing more exciting was going to happen. So you would indulge in it this once even though it was never your thing. Plus Nora and Abby were close enough the girl was in the inner circle. No easy feat to accomplish with Abby.

"We went on a scouting mission a few weeks ago, and got ambushed by a herd of infected. Abby got cornered and ran out of bullets, so I came to her rescue doing something that was kinda stupid." You admitted a bit guilty knowing Abby wasn't completely lying about the reckless behavior thing. "But it worked and I saved her life only I guess she thought I died in the process. Abby started freaking out and when after I reassured her I was fine. She went on to say I couldn't do stuff like because she cared about me too much, and stopped short of dropping the "L" word."

Nora held onto every single word that left your mouth following the story with genuine interest. When you to the end immediately she shook her head hoping down from her seat. "Nope we can't have this I'm going to help you get your girl."

Your eyes lit up with curiosity. "How?

"Oh don't worry I'll think of something" she replied already rubbing her chin.

You still wanted more insight which led to your next question. "Why?"

Nora turned back around and walked over to rest both of her hands on either of your shoulders. "Because you're my girl and Abby is my girl I want both of you to be happy. Plus I've been rooting for y'all since day one when the two of you met."

"And" you pressed her further sensing an ulterior motive.

"I got a running bet with Owen, Manny, and Mel about when the two of you are going to finally get together." she finally admitted with a sheepish smile. "Don't be mad."

I'm not but Mel." You laughed a little bit thrown back by the timid doctor being in on it.

"I betted it would be sooner than later, but Mel thought the opposite while Owen and Manny opted for it being never."

You wanted to disappointed in Owen but with the way Abby reacted to everything that happened. It made sense and Manny was her roommate, so he probably did have some type of insight on her unknown to you.

"So what do you get if you win? Money isn't exactly worth anything."

Nora just gave you a quick wink and motioned for you to follow her.

Three Days Later

Isaac didn't have any more assignments for suppliers, and your assistance with the dogs wasn't required. So you readied yourself to enjoy a rare free day or two, but a solider came banging on your door the morning. After you had just returned from your supply run with Nora to let you know the man wanted to see you in his office.

You dragged yourself out of bed with a sleepy groan cursing the entire world. What could Isaac possibly want now? He literally told you last night today was yours. A five minute shower and ten minutes spent going through your closest trying to determine what to wear, and a quick stop to the mess hall for breakfast. You finally arrived at his door giving it a gentle knock.

"Its y/n"

"Come in" replied his gruff voice.

You opened the door to the sight of Isaac sitting behind his desk with his hands folded together in resting atop it. Abby sat in chair on the right side with both of knees maintaining a steady bouncing pace. The second your foot stepped into the office she launched to her feet. Already red in the face jabbing a anger finger at you.

"What is she doing here?"

"Sit back down Abby" Isaac commanded rather than answer her question.

"But-" she started to protest until he fixed her with his steely gaze, and she finally listened. Plopping back down into the chair propping her elbow up on the arm, and placing her chin in her awaiting hand. Abby grumbled complaints under her breath while you took the chair beside her holding back an amused smile.

"Owen and Manny are both out of commission for the next few days, and you need a partner for your scouting mission today." Isaac said laying both of his hands flat on the desk.

"Are they okay?" You asked a bit concerned.

He nodded. "Mel said it was some type of stomach bug possibly caused by. A bad batch of fish from last night's dinner, but we're keeping them in a restricted area to be sure."

Your mind wandered back to your conservation with Nora just a day ago, and you knew without a doubt this was her doing. You fought off the urge to grin again.

"I don't need a partner Isaac I can handle this by myself." Abby argued throwing you a side glance trying to hide the guilt in them.

"After what happened on your last mission I won't risk it. The infected could be anywhere in this point, and you never know when a horde is going to show up. Plus those Scars are getting more bolder with each attack. Y/N compliments your skillset nicely, and has enough experience."

"But she's reckless-"

"And I trust you to maintain control over this mission, and put her in place if the need arises. Are you telling me you can't handle it?" Isaac narrowed his eyes at Abby almost daring her to continue questioning his decision.

"No sir I can handle it" Abby answered dropping her head with a look of despair.

The scouting mission was a simple one. Located about three miles from the main WLF base was a small cabin near a set of watchtowers. A group of soldiers stumbled upon it on they're way back, but didn't feel comfortable scoping it out. They were injured, malnourished, and sleep deprived after spending days hiding out in Scar infested territory trying not to be discovered.

It was close enough to base Isaac was sure none of the Scars were stupid enough to get this close. And if there were a few hanging out about you and Abby were more than capable of taking them out. He did order to bring one back for interrogation if the two of you found any.

The cabin was located in wooded area where the trees grew too great heights, and the bushes were dense. Abby walked ahead of you hacking any blocking vegetation away with her machete. She did it in such an aggressive way you were pretty sure this was her stress reliever. Anything would do rather than actually getting it off her chest through conservation. You followed behind her maintaining a comfortable distance. It went like this a solid hour or so into the trail before finally you couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Are you going to ignore me the whole time Abby?" You asked her.

"That depends what do you want to talk about?" she shot back not even bothering to pause to look back at you.

"I don't know how about the fact you lied to Isaac and got me put on supply duty."

Now she stopped whirling around to face you her face shrouded in disbelief at your words. "I didn't lie your actions were reckless on that mission." She raised the machete pointing at you, but then realized it and slid into the waistband of her pants.

"Yeah but that's not why you reported me is it? You accused closing the distance between you two.

"Why else would I report you y/n?"

If she was going to continue to play dumb then you were happy to bring up the elephant in the room again. "To get me away from you for a few days, so you could bury those feelings so deep inside of you again. You'd forget they were ever even there."

A red tint coated her cheeks as her eyes averted the contact from yours now. Instead she turned her gaze to the ground below swallowing a lump in her throat. "We should keep moving."

Not bothering to wait for your reply Abby turned back around and continued on the path to the cabin. You let out a sigh of exasperation running a hand down your face. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy to make her confess. You were going to play the danger card again.

The opportunity to do it without putting your life in any real danger presented itself. A whole hour later after the two of you finished hiking your way through all the deep bush. The trail cleared up a bit more till eventually one of the watchtowers came into view, and the closer you two got to it. The more realized getting to the cabin wasn't going to be easy as the group made it out to be.

The sound of rushing water filled the air when you and Abby got within ten feet of the tower. And the source of noise revealed itself once you reached the tower to it sitting on the edge of a ravine. Abby extended her arm out in front you. When both of you reached the edge of the grassy terrain that led down into a wide and deep ditch. That was filled up with water probably from the few storms to hit the area in the past few days.

You leaned over to try and determine just how deep it went wondering. If it was possible to walk across, but the bottom wasn't visible. The current was too strong to just outright risk it, and you didn't see a bridge or anything that could be used as one.

"We gotta find another way across" Abby said coming to the same conclusion. "Let's keep following the path farther down maybe the water level gets lower." She pulled out the map to look over for a possible better destination, so caught up with it. Abby missed the way your eyes lit with mischief when you looked upward. The two watchtowers were connected to one other by a decent size beam.

By the time Abby finished going over the map you were taking your first step onto the beam.

"Alright there actually might be a road..." Her voice trailed off when she discovered you were no longer beside or in front of her.

"Y/N" she called out your name her head swiveling in every direction in frantic search for you. Had the Scars managed to ambush and nab you with her so close? The thought terrified her so much she was five seconds away from working herself into hyperventilating just like last time. "Y/N" Abby cried out desperately again.

"Up here Abbs calm down" you shouted from your position standing on top of the beam. About thirty feet up in the air balancing on the metal surface with ease.

She followed the sound of your voice, and sighed with relief at the sight you. Bracing a hand to her chest she calmed her panicked breathing. It took a minute to get it back to normal then she glared up at you. "What the hell are you doing up there? Come down now."

"No we can cross this way" You argued with a tiny smirk.

"Y/N I'm not playing with you get down from there" Abby ordered again. Her voice more firm this time but you saw how nervous she was getting.

"But this is so much faster than walking like another three miles for a road that might destroyed. Plus that's farther than Isaac wanted us to go." You pointed out.

"I don't care I'm in charge and I said no. Now. Get. Down. Here." Abby pointed at you then the ground on her last two words.

"Fine I'll come down" You agreed. "But first I want to hear you say it." You added it as she relaxed again.

Your request made her quirked an eyebrow. "Say what?"

You shook your head. "No more games Abby finish what you were going to say to me. On our last mission before you stopped yourself I won't come down till you do."

Abby grabbed two fistfuls of her hair holding back a frustrated scream. It was a miracle she didn't unravel the braid. "Oh for crying out loud y/n let it go. I wasn't going to say anything besides what I actually said." Now please get down here before you fall and drown or something." Abby pleaded with wide and desperate eyes.

You dropped into a crouch swaying a bit but righting yourself immediately. A small cry exited Abby's mouths as she followed your every move in fear. "What would you do if I fell in? Would you try to save me?" You asked her softly.

"I'd do anything for you" she whispered so low you barely heard her. "Because we're friends and that's what friends do for each other." It was half a lie, and both of you knew it. You were too close to give up now. So you added more pressure by standing upright and turning to walk further away to the middle of the beam. "I thought it was because I was one of the best."

"You are y/n but you're my friend too. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting for the past couple of weeks. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm sorry okay."

Close but not close enough.

"What exactly am I the best at Abby?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What?" she replied.

"You said I was one of the best but at what. It can't be fighting because that title goes to you easily. I mean not even our toughest guys can take you in a sparring match." You brought up your hand placing one finger down. "I know its not sharpshooting I mean I got I'm one hell of a shot, but so is Owen." Another finger brought down as you focused you on Abby again.

She dropped her head staring at the ground with her fists clenched at her sides. Her entire body was trembling with anger, or maybe the overwhelming emotion she kept trying to suppress.

"I guess it could be tracking I am really good at that" You said pausing.

"You're the best tracker we got, and I know that for a fact I'd be dead. If it wasn't for your tracking skills back when we got trapped in that cave during the blizzard." Abby said loud enough for you to hear her.

The memory came back to you in an instant. Almost two years ago the two of you had to seek refuge in a random cave while patrolling the area of a nearby hotel. The suppliers were searching it top to bottom for any resources. Back then the harsh winters had depleted many of your medical supplies, and other items. The area had an infected problem, so a small team of soldiers went along for protection.

You and Abby ended up wandering a little too far while following a stray runner to a small nest. No more than ten of them which was easy enough as long as you used stealth rather than bullets. Then the storm picked up making it all but imposing to find the way back. You were a survivalist before joining up with the WLF. Your father raised you in the wilderness teaching you every skill you would need to conquer it. When the world fell apart you were a little more than ready, and you put all that knowledge to use in an effort to keep yourself and Abby alive.

"I never seen someone fight so hard to live in a world that's just easier to die in." Abby went on looking up at you now. "It wouldn't have been fast but better than being tuned right? I was ready to accept defeat but you were there going out in storm risking your life for mine. Each time returning with food, or wood for the fire. You built a wooden door to keep out some of the cold, and no matter how bad things got during those five days. You never lost hope, or that cheerful attitude of yours."

The fear in her eyes dissolved to be replaced with adoration and the look warmed your entire body. "You never run out of it you know. It doesn't matter how bleak the situation is. And before I met you y/n I lost all that after my dad died. I lost all hope for a better world I didn't believe there was a single thing worth fighting for anymore. Owen was the only reason I kept going, but we fell apart so it wasn't the same. Then you made me see again just how beautiful the world can be. Because if my love for you isn't the most beautiful feeling I don't know what is. There I said it I fucking love you alright, and my biggest fear in this world is losing the person I love the most again. So please come down."

The speech that led to her confession caught you off guard hitting you like a ton of bricks. Her words tugged on all your heartstrings till they came loose, and tears of happiness clouded your vision. "Damn it Abby I love you would've done just fine." You said with a teary chuckle wiping your eyes on your shirt. One of your feet lost its footing and you stumbled before finding the beam again.

"Y/N come on" Abby shouted holding out her arms as if she could catch you. If you did indeed fall from that angle. "I want kiss you so hurry up alright."

The statement made you perk up a bit as the mischief came back sparkling in your eyes. "I don't know you made me work for that confession. You should have to work for our first kiss."

Her expression darkened but she smirked daring you to try her. "Y/N don't do this."

You smirked back while walking across the rest of the beam holding her eyes for the entire duration. She watched you disappear into the other tower in amusement and slight annoyance. Not wasting another second Abby bounded to the tower and climbed the ladder as fast as she could. Slowing down at the beam to take a deep breath, and doing her best not to look down. She took the first step placing one foot in front of another. Till she reached the other end your playful laughter filling her ears as you slid down the ladder. After making sure she made it across without falling, and you hit the ground running straight for the cabin.

Abby went down the ladder halfway before taking a huge leap. She didn't bother stopping to right herself giving chase almost immediately. Even with your head she started catching up to you in just a matter of seconds.

"Abby I get the bonus points for helping you face your fear right." You called out pushing your legs to go faster.

"Not a chance" Abby yelled back matching your pace.

Her arms wrapped around your waist from behind and you were yanked backwards off your feet. You let out a shriek of laughter when her fingers dug into your sides. "Abbs no" You laughed trying to break free of her grip.

Abby secured your back to her chest with a single muscular arm while her other hand continued to wreck havoc. She tickled you into you were breathless and in tears, and before you had recover. Abby turned you around in arms and pressed her lips to yours. Any breath you managed to get back into your lungs vanished again. As your eyes closed and your body melted in her arms. Lucky for you Abby kept you upright with her arms constricted around your middle.

You had dreamed of this moment more than a hundred times. Each time wondering if the real thing would live up to your fantasy. Of course the real Abby surpassed all expectations, and your questions of rather or not she knew how to kiss went out the window. Her lips moved slowly against yours in such a way. It was like she was guiding on exactly what to do, and you followed her lead eventually your hands found their place in her hair. You tugged her a bit closer and she moaned into your mouth pulling away for a fraction of a second. Before deepening the kiss swinging your body around to push you up against a tree.

The bark bit into your skin but the only thing you could focus on right then was. How your body lit up with a want no a need for Abby. It wasn't enough your toes were curling from the passion she kissed you with. You shoved against her shoulder, and Abby pulled away immediately eyes filled with concern. "Did I hurt you?"

"No but the cabin."

She scoffed. "We got plenty of time."

You flicked her forehead causing her to yelp in pain and pull back again. "What?" she whimpered eyes zeroing in on your swollen lips.

"I bet its a lot more comfortable in there way more appropriate for making out" You told her.

"That would be inappropriate behavior" Abby started nuzzling your neck. Her lips drifted to your ear "good thing I'm in charge huh." You squealed in surprise as she lifted you in arms bridal style, and began to carry you to the cabin.

Where the two of you would stay for a few more days, and long nights. Consequences be damned this time.

[drama--universe]

Wish & Forget (Prequel)

Requested by anonymous: hi :D i really love the wish & forget, especially the angst, I've been looking for any platonic alice in borderland fics for so long. it'd be cool if you can do an imagine about Chishiya and y/n set before wish & forget

Pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x student!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Warnings: cursing, gore (blood, beheadings, etc.)

A/N this is a prequel to 'Wish & Forget', it's just a few stories of Chishiya and reader together. Hope you like it :)

You didn't know what as happening, hell you didn't even know how you got here in the first place. Your school was full of people not even 10 minutes ago and now it was empty. Not only that, somehow it had turned into a game area, at least according to the woman's explanation. Short said, you were trapped in a world where the rules were kill or be killed. You had to play to gain visa and thus had to find places like what your school had become. An area where one of the four games would be played with a surprise difficulty. She had also told you that it was likely a heart or diamond game, which meant betrayals or intelligence.

You were bad at both...

The phone in your hand felt heavy and the ring attached around your neck only itched everytime you moved your head. You and the woman were not alone at the moment. There were 3 men standing on the side, loudly talking to each other and stressing you out even more, and to your left stood two other men. One was taller, a gun in his hands and one side of his head shaved. The other was on the shorter side, his hair dyed a pale blonde and cat-likes eyes were observing the room around him while also keeping an eye on the contestants. Including you. You didn't feel uncomfortable, however, as his gaze stopped on you and instead you decided to give a small smile. He didn't return it, his face remaining emotionless as he turned away from you. Your smile dropped and you focused back on the phone, the timer just reaching zero before the screen went black. Then the rules appeared.

'Game: 3 of diamonds'

You looked up, smiling. It wasn't a difficult game, lucky you. The phone chimed again before revealing the objective.

'Goal: Find the right exit for each person. Time limit: 5 hours'

Your smile fell as you read the rules, trying to not scream at yourself for being so happy earlier. The timer started before the ring around your neck started buzzing before stopping and you couldn't help but frown. One man decided to move first, marching towards the doors and you could hear his necklace buzzing. Then it snapped and you watched him crash to the ground, head far away from his body.

"The buzzing means you get too far." The blond man spoke up and you nodded before walking to the exit, stopping the second that you felt the buzzing.

A step to the left, stopping again when it buzzed. Two steps to the right. Nothing. Another to the right, nothing again. You kept repeating the steps, making sure that it never buzzed too much until you reached a door. On the door hung a time.

'03:34:22'

You had 5 hours, no way you had spend one and an hour and a half for this. You pulled out your phone, but the screen was just black. The time also didn't continue, it was just still.

Then it dawned on you.

You could only leave at the right time.

"Fucking hell... This is impossible." You mumbled to yourself before thinking, trying to remember when you started.

"The game started at 7-" "8:15." Someone interrupted and you turned your head to see the blond man once again as he walked to a door at the end of the hallway. You could see his time, which said '04:15:50' and you scowled at the thought that he could leave quicker than you could. Nonetheless, you started counting in your head. You needed one hour, 25 minutes and 38 seconds until you could open this door. You looked around for a clock or anything, luckily there was one hanging on the wall. Only no seconds. You'd have to guess a bit.

34 minutes had passed since you started, guessing if the given time was true. Otherwise, you were doomed. You just needed to wait 56 minutes and then count to 22 seconds.

So you sat down and waited.

You only stood up again when it was a minute before your time and once the clock struck the hour, you started counting the seconds. Once you reached 15, you laid your hand on the doorknob before counting again. At 21 you pushed in the doorknob and you walked out on 22, waiting for a sign that you failed with closed eyes.

"Seems I'm not the only one who made it out." A voice called and your eyes snapped open to reveal the blond for the third time. He stood alone, the necklace in his hand and a card held in the other hand. You stepped out of the school and looked at the man, who looked at you in confusion as you started to cry. You couldn't help it, you just survived a game that could've killed you and you watch someone die right in front of you.

Chishiya felt uncomfortable, watching you bawl your eyes out was not something he expected nor did he know how to react to it. He just stood next to you awkwardly until you were finished.

When you looked up again, he was still standing there to your surprise and you stood up to pull at his sweater. He looked at you before gently pulling his arm away.

"Could you tell me what is going on?" You asked, voice cracking and you could hear him sigh before nodding. However, he didn't start to talk and instead motioned for you to follow. So you did, hand still grabbing the back of his sweater as you walked and he was kind enough to slow down his pace to match yours.

"You know the games?" He asked, turning his head to you and you nodded at him. "Alright then There's not much more to it. We leave in a world where you play games to get a visa, otherwise you get shot by one of the lasers up there." He said, pointing his finger at the sky and you looked up in shock before noticing that there were indeed red shot shooting down from the sky.

"So... Where do people stay?" "Some stay at abandoned houses or hotels, others stay at..." He trailed off, not sure whether he wanted to tell you about the Beach. It was a safe place, but something in him didn't want you there. Not that he'd say that aloud.

"Can I stay with you?" Your voice broke his train if thoughts and he shook his head at you, to which you asked why.

"Not safe." "Can't you protect me then? You did earlier." You pleaded and you basically see the wheels in his head turning. Just as you were going to ask him again, you could hear a female voice call out and the man beside you looked up.

A woman dressed in a bikini and heels, her hair pulled back into a sort of ponytail as she strutted towards the two of you. Once her eyes landed on you, her pace slowed as she looked at the man beside you again.

"You are aware there's a kid hanging on your jacket, Chishiya?" She asked and you looked up to Chishiya, glad you learned his name by now, while he just gave her an annoyed look. The girl gave him a teasing smile before turning to you. It was then that you noticed that she was quite tall, probably even tall without the heels she wore. She leaned down, plucking the unlit cigarette from in between her lips before giving you a bright smile.

"What is ya name?" She asked and you held your hand out before saying your name, which she replied by giving her own name and shaking your hand. She then stood up tall again and pointed at the car behind her while sticking the cigarette back in between her lips.

"You wanna drive, kid?" "You're not letting a 13 year-old drive that car." Chishiya spoke up and you looked at him at him, crossing your arms with a frown.

"I'm 15." Chishiya just rolled his eyes before grabbing the keys that were dangling from Kuina's hand while you just stood in your place awkwardly.

"You not joining?" Kuina asked and you shrugged, twiddling your fingers before shrieking when you were lifted by Kuina. Chishiya didn't say anything as the two of your joined him in the car, sitting in the backseat.

"You're taking care of her." He stated as he turned the keys and Kuina gave him a look in return before focusing her attention to you again.

"I'll teach you how to protect yourself, okay?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you watched Chishiya and Niragi argue with each other, both being a bit too childish.

"What's the thing today?" "Academics or something, I stopped listening 15 minutes ago." You mumbled to Kuina as you pushed yourself up from the pool to lay your head on Kuina's legs.

"Already 15 minutes? New record." She mumbled, hand dropping on your head as she watched the pair. You sighed before noticing Aguni walking past while talking to someone you didn't recognize.

"Aguni-san!" You called loudly to the elder man, who turned his head before following your finger to see the two man arguing. He marched their way, grabbing Niragi's collar and dragged him away. Chishiya only raised his eyebrows at the other, waving him goodbye before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking towards you and Kuina. He sat down on a beach chair before looking at you.

"You ruined my fun." He said in his monotone voice that you had grown used to and you could only smile at him before getting out of the pool. Chishiya threw a towel your way and you caught it before sitting next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. He quickly shrugged it off, making you pout as you dried your hair before picking up your own jacket.

"So it's Thursday... Can I convince you to join me and Kuina today?" You asked and Chishiya rolled his eyes as both you and Kuina looked at him with bright eyes.

"You want me to join you on, what do you call it?" He looked at Kuina and she smiled, quickly getting out of the pool before sitting on the other side of Chishiya.

"You're joining girls night, no choice." She said and you could see panic hit him, even when his face remained the same. You had gained a skill of guessing his emotions by subtle changes in his face. For instance now, you could see his eyebrows twitch when the girls night was mentioned.

"Come on, I found new nail-polish on our last raid!"

You ignored the looks that you could as you walked through the Beach and instead you searched for Chishiya or Kuina. You were probably on the brink of a panic attack, trying to ignore the sticky feeling of the blood that covered your entire form. Your vision itself was getting blurry, but you could easy spot Chishiya as he walked your way. He was going to make a snarky comment, but once he noticed that something was wrong he chose to not. Instead he guided you to his room, slamming the door shut before leading you to the bathroom. You sat in the bathtub, and he pulled off your sweater before turning the shower on. He just started washing the blood off, both of you didn't say anything during the whole process. Once all the blood was gone, he stepped out of the room again and got some clothes. Then he let you change on your own while waiting on the bed until you were finished.

Only it took too long, so he decided to check on you. You were in the new clothes he gave you, but you were just staring at the wall in front of you.

"(Y/n)?" He spoke softly and you looked up, revealing your tear-stained face and he walked closer to kneel in front of you. Then he put his hand on yours, to which you completely broke down. You lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck while sobbing on his shoulder. You knew that he hated hugging and such, so it meant a lot to you when you felt his arms around you.

You stayed in the same position for 30 minutes or more before you had finished crying and you had both moved to the bed. You were still hugging Chishiya, retelling the story of your game with sniffing every few seconds.

You had played a heart game for the first time and on top of that, it was a 9 of hearts. The game was simple, yet it was the most difficult thing you'd ever done. You watched and felt others die by your hands, the bloody clothes on the floor proved that. Chishiya just listened to you quietly, his arm still softly rubbing your back in a soothing manner. He did so until you fell asleep, tucking you under the sheets of the bed before gently laying next to you on top of the sheets. He froze again when he felt your arms wrap around his torso, relaxing again seconds after as he laid his arm underneath your head. With that you both slept, unaware of the major changes that would soon happen.

[butwhatifidothis]

Tumblr is starting to VERY MUCH dislike how long the other reblog chain is getting, so this will be Reblog Chain 2 of my jotting down notes of this fic. Here is the first reblog chain for Chapters 1-20

But it appears as though I was correct in sleeping off Chapter 20, because Chapter 21 is. Hm. bad. Very. Not good.

Chapter 21:

Transcript under the cut:

Chapter 21: It's Called Scars so it Gonna Be Ass

- To be blunt, the constant need to reaffirm that yes, Edelgard went through terrible experimentation and that yes, they were very horrific, is tiring. This is chapter 21. The experiments occurred in chapter 2. Every single chapter between now and then have, at some point, mentioned that INDEED, Edelgard DID in fact go through horrific trauma. It is tiring to the reader to constantly have to reread the same thing - we know it happened. We know it was terrible. There's no need to constantly say so; we already understand as readers.

- "Every time the spark of life broke through Byleth’s blank face, it brought a flickering hope to the Flame Emperor’s heart." ->

- Firstly: Awkward use of the Flame Emperor epithet (its usage is on and off with how appropriate its been - this is off).

- Secondly: Once again, Byleth's face was rarely if ever blank. She was never the Ashen Demon, as even the last chapter showcased. The author is mistaking reservation with emotionlessness, which is simply wrong

- "There had been so many empty days and nights, without friendship, love or joy. With nothing to hope for, except someday, the peace of the grave." -> Suicidal tendencies: another trait that Edelgard doesn't have... (strikes against canon: 89)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 12

- "Dimitri, too, was troubled by the thought, grasping the side of his head and frowning. As the spasm passed, he turned to Edelgard and smiled warmly." -> It seems a little callous to so casually toss Dimitri's symptoms into his interactions with others when such things simply don't occur in the canon interactions. It's not impossible, or strictly against canon, but it does not feel natural; it's more as though the author is shining bright neon signs that say DIMITRI HAS MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES than a genuine attempt at writing Dimitri's mental health issues. This is not the first time this sort of seemingly thoughtless showcasing of symptoms has happened (Noted separately: Dimitri having drastic mood swings)

- "No, this world must be ruled by humans…not cruel gods who ignored the prayers of little girls." -> This statement follows Edelgard internally chastising the actions of not gods, but the Children of the Goddess. This is a weaselly attempt at dodging Edelgard's racist beliefs that Nabateans should not be allowed positions of power by shifting the belief to apply to miscellaneous gods instead. While not inaccurate per se - she does also canonically believe that gods should have no power in human affairs - it is not honest

- "Byleth nodded with childlike simplicity. “We should all try to get along.”" -> Again describing Byleth as childlike and/or innocent. Counter: 3

- For those curious: yes, the rat scene is implemented, yes it is sloppy, yes it is out of character for Claude - so much so that it is being noted separately - and yes it is forced to all hell

- What will be noted here, however, is that this is yet another instance of a man being demeaned/humiliated for the honor of a woman. See quote: "Byleth was on him in an instant, a tempest forming in the sea of her blue eyes. “That isn’t funny.” She crossed her arms sternly. “Jokes are about bringing people together...about making them smile. Right now, the only person laughing is you.”" with Claude reacting awkwardly. Once again, Man Bad Woman Good

- In a showcasing of a complete lack of self-awareness within the fic: "“Maybe if you’d have taught the Deer instead…but since you seem to have no ambitions outside of cleaning up Edelgard’s messes…”" -> This is Claude being portrayed as the bad guy, not the one being completely and utterly right

- " She slapped Edelgard on the back, and smiled heartily. “I agree, Dimitri!” Edelgard grimaced, trying to hide the fact her teacher had just struck the wound she had received during the mock battle." -> As well as where undoubtedly countless scars would be, yes? Scars that still cause Edelgard pain? In fact, Edelgard has been slapped on the back by Byleth and Jeralt numerous times before, and yet expresses no pain or discomfort.

- Another thing, that I had not noted though ought to have: Edelgard, a victim of sexual assault (in this fic), rarely seems to mind people touching her. She gets a little surprised if someone tries to get her attention with touch, yes, but Byleth's constant unprompted and random touching of Edelgard is never said to do anything but bring warmth and joy and comfort to Edelgard. It seems as though Edelgard suffering through sexual assault is just another source of trauma for the author to dump onto her for nothing more than pity points

- This is incredibly harsh to say, yes, and I would usually refrain from attributing such harshness onto a piece of text, but remember that Edelgard's scars only cause her pain when it's convenient, that she only experiences headaches when it's convenient, that she experiences PTSD episodes (when Claude mentions the rat) when it's convenient (note that in this fic he does it outside of battle, where her getting triggered wouldn't compromise her chances at victory). Edelgard not being touch averse and being a victim of sexual assault are not inherently something bad - survivors react to trauma differently, after all - but it is another in a steadily longer line of instances where Edelgard is simply given trauma for the sake of making her pitiable to the reader and the love interest, not something that Edelgard genuinely has to struggle with.

- "As Claude and Dimitri looked at their classmate expectantly, Edelgard was wracked with another bout of guilt. Deep in her soul, the princess knew these peaceful days would end soon. When that happened, no feast or vows of friendship could make up for the chaos and horror she would unleash. It would be better to pull away, close off her heart, rather than fuel the flames of her inevitable betrayal." -> Aka, "Feel bad for me, I feel guilty for planning to cause the death and ruination of countless innocents' lives all because I convinced myself that my way is the only way to get things done my way without ever actually trying to see if more peaceful ways could have worked. I'm going to orphan children, force families to fight each other, have the land be rampaged by banditry, and overall bring chaos onto these days that I ADMIT ARE PEACEFUL all because I feel that my way would be better. Wah wah pity me but I don't wanna be pitied I promise wah wah."

- "Byleth shrugged with a characteristic blend of innocence and spirit. “I guess I just like winning.” She began to blush and grabbed Edelgard’s hand. "It's so exciting! I’ve never had anyone other than Papa to celebrate with before!”" -> Byleth = innocent/childlike. Counter: 4

- The fic likes to reaffirm again and again that Byleth is "now" only acting like this due to Edelgard's presence in her life. Note also these statements written previously: "Every day, [Edelgard] was watching the person she loved grow and change. Become who she always was supposed to be." This, perhaps unintentionally, again enforces the "Lesbian Love is Pure and Innocent" trope; these wlw are only allowed to be their good girl, innocent selves - who they were always supposed to be - due to the pure lesbian love they have found with one another

- Count Bergliez didn't know of the experiments initially, but he eventually found out and did nothing to stop them, fleeing from a young and tortured El who was pleading for him to save her - Unnecessarily painting Count Bergliez as a spineless coward too afraid of Duke Aegir to save a child in pain

- Once again, a man fails to save a woman and further traumatizes her

- It should be noted that Bergliez is fearful not for his own life, but for that of his children, who were the ones Duke Aegir threatened. He, very similar to Ionius, cannot save Edelgard, except Bergliez (unlike Ionius) has a tangible, physical, explainable reason as to why he couldn't, and yet it is him who is painted as the bad guy, not Ionius. He is worthy of Edelgard's scorn and hatred, but Ionius only receives a begrudging feeling of betrayal from Edelgard that she feels guilty for harboring, even though he failed her far more than Bergliez failed her.

- "Daughters must always be loyal to their fathers" trope

- "No decent person thought the things Edelgard did. Just as her body had been twisted and shattered by the experiments, her mind bore terrible scars. Scars that the monster kept hidden, so she could walk in the world of men." -> Dehumanizing oneself as a monster as well as having violent thoughts (that specifically stem from trauma) one feels guilty for harboring are not traits Edelgard shows in canon... (strikes against canon, 90, 91)

- ...but Dimitri does. Counter: 13, 14

- "world of men?" Did the author perhaps mean "world of man," as in mankind? Keep note of

- The reason as to why Bergliez is said to have witnessed young El's tortured state and did nothing to help her is revealed: in canon, he dislikes her. It is blatantly and objectively said that he and Edelgard share a mutual displeasure in the other's company. What this fic had him do will be used as an excuse as to why he doesn't hate her, since no one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Edelgard, upon being asked if revenge is the reason she is doing what she's doing (reuniting Fodlan): "“No.” Edelgard put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I think for a long time, it was…but after a while, I realized that revenge wouldn’t satisfy me.” She looked at the blue sky above. “After you go through that much suffering…when you beg for help, day after day, and no one cares...you realize that nothing will ever truly make you feel safe again. The only thing I want is for this madness to end.”" -> This is internally inconsistent. See chapter 15 note: ""You know why they created me in the first place.” / “To reunite Fódlan,” spat Hubert. “It was all my father talked about.” / “And I will give it to them. "" This directly connects Edelgard's want to reunite Fodlan to the wants of her tormenters (as this states she is doing it out of spite). Note how Hubert spits at the idea of reuniting Fodlan, and how it was all his father - portrayed as a villain - talked about. This is not what this Edelgard wants, at least not of her own independent want. Earlier in this very chapter, Edelgard internally states a want to hurt Bergliez for leaving her behind. To say that she now no longer thinks vengeance would satisfy her, or that none of the reason that she is doing everything she does is out of a want for revenge, is ridiculous

- Edelgard to Bergliez, upon being asked what will happen to him and his family should Edelgard rise to power: "“All those who distinguish themselves will be rewarded. Given your history, I have little doubt you will be among them.” She nervously played with her white gloves. “All I ask is that when I seize back control of the throne, I can count on the military’s support.”" -> Yes, all who distinguish themselves to Edelgard, for Edelgard's cause, that Edelgard can see and/or know of. How likely is it that a poor farmer who is exceptional at fighting will actually be noticed by Edelgard and be given the credit he deserves, when others who may not be as meritable but do have some merit have the connections to show themselves directly in front of Edelgard? What means will Edelgard give the poor soldiers (that she or Byleth aren't already friends with, notably Dorothea and Leonie) that will allow them to be able to be seen by her and have their merits recognized? Edelgard is the one who says who gains power after all, so it is her they must prove themselves to, but how can they realistically do that?

- What about professions that are not immediately beneficial to Edelgard's cause, such as the arts? How will they fare in Edelgard's society, when their works and talents yield no tangible, objective results (such as, say, farming)?

- Something the fic will address?

- Edelgard does not nervously do anything in front of those she is trying to negotiate with in canon, not even Thales. Strikes against canon: 92

- "[Bergliez] could only laugh in response. “I think we’re going to get along rather well, my lady…and the other?”" -> Except Bergliez and Edelgard don't get along well, ever. Pre ts they are stated to dislike each other, which continues even onto post ts with Bergliez being the only noble Edelgard couldn't bring to heel. Strikes against canon: 93

- As predicted: No one is allowed to dislike Edelgard on the "good" side

- Literally forgot Hubert was with Edelgard and Bergliez lmao

- Ionius tried to consolidate power to be rid of the consort system due to his unending love for Anselma -> A ridiculous idea, plain and simple. Ionius was Emperor. If he wished to be rid of the consort system there was no need for him to try and take away all power from the other Imperial houses.

- If Ionius truly loved Anselma, why did he allow her to be exiled from the Empire? Why didn't he step in and use his influence as Emperor to help her?

- Edelgard, when she is Emperor - passed down a supposedly empty crown, at that - showcases the all-encompassing power the title of Emperor truly holds to one willing to use that power. That Ionius supposedly wanted to do all of these reforms and yet nothing at all was done, ever (save for ruining Houses Hrym and Ordelia, something even this fic has as canon), if Ionius did want to make these reforms, means that he was too spineless and cowardly to truly go through with trying to pass them. This again unintentionally showcases how awful a ruler and weak-willed a person Ionius was when he had power when trying to paint him in this righteous light.

- Lambert was stated to be trying to pass reforms before he died in canon, not Ionius. From parents to the children, the author is attributing traits from Lambert onto Ionius just as he (author's confirmed gender is male) attributes traits from Dimitri onto Edelgard

- " Her father and mother…she had thought their romance a fairy tale-a story from her father to make a motherless child feel valued. But…they truly had loved each other." -> Edelgard does believe Ionius when he told her of the story of when he and Anselma (supposedly) met each other. There is nothing to indicate that Edelgard thought it to be a lie: in fact, in canon: "But I choose to believe there was genuine love between them." Strikes against canon: 94

- It seems as though finally, after around 18 chapters, Edelgard's scars will finally cause her genuine inconvenience due to her complex about them as well as her trust issues. She has a gash on her back from the Battle of Eagle and Lion, but will not have it treated if Manuela isn't the healer, and yet the woman is occupied dealing with the rest of the students who were injured. How will this fic deal with this?

- Ingrid, referring to her and Sylvain: ""We just switched from Felix lecturing us all day to listening to Edelgard moralizing, didn’t we?"" -> The author is trying to compare a childhood friend whose friends have had years to get used to their barbed tongue to a stranger that directly insults the dreams of one of them. Something which Ingrid canonically hates having be done to her, even from Felix, a childhood friend. Once again, Ingrid being so casual about Edelgard being so disrespectful of her dreams is out of character. Strikes against canon: 95

- "Sylvain shook his head knowingly, ignoring Felix’s truly alarming scowl. “You should have seen his face, Edelgard. Dimitri would go on and on about this girl he met when he was a kid…and Felix would complain about her for hours!” He looked at Felix and smiled. “For all his whining about the “Boar,” nobody loves Dimitri more than him.”" -> Oh? A romantic gay male relationship presenting itself within the fic?

- Another vision of SS experienced by Edelgard. Word from a nameless guard: "The woman, Byleth, leading their forces... She’s not human! She killed half my battalion with one swing of that sword of hers. She didn’t speak, she didn’t shout, she didn’t even change her expression!” The panicked man was teetering on the edge of hysteria. “All those people rallying around her, and it’s like she doesn’t care at all. Like she's a walking corpse!"" -> Obviously saying that Byleth becomes the Ashen Demon if not allowed to be with Edelgard.

- Unintentional statement: Byleth can't be the pure innocent (lesbian) woman without Edelgard's (lesbian) love granting her purity, reverting her to a monstrous, corrupt demon incapable of humanity

- See chapter 20 note: "Implying that choosing SS - aka, choosing the Nabateans - makes Byleth less human. Intentional?" Confirmed to be intentional. Also false: in canon, even when accounting for CF's lesser chapter count, Byleth emotes far more on SS than on CF, which matches with CF having Edelgard call Byleth detached in their A support. Strikes against canon: 96

- The same nameless soldier, same context: "And those Faerghus kids…” / Edelgard leaned forward in her chair. “Ingrid…Sylvain…what of them?” / “They…they were animals. Screaming and ranting about revenge for the King.” -> Is the author really demonizing Sylvain and Ingrid for (potentially!) being mad at Edelgard for murdering one of their childhood friends? Is that really the depths the Edelgard worship will sink to, that friends becoming enraged at a friend's unjust murder from a warlord is being portrayed as something sad for the warlord? Just what else should Edelgard be pitied for?

- "The scared girl desperately tried to drown out the thoughts that reverberated incessantly. / They’re going to despise us…it’s destiny. And how could they not? If we were truly good, the Goddess would have saved us…protected us. But She didn’t. The Goddess took Mother. She took our family. And soon, She’ll take everything else we love. She hates us. / It’s what we deserve." - Now confirmed that Edelgard hears multiple voices in her head tormenting her. That trait that, once again, Edelgard does not have... (Strikes against canon: 97)

- ...but Dimitri does. This is the third time this chapter that this has happened, and far from the only chapter to display such baffling characterization of Edelgard via Dimitri's traits. It is nonsensical.

- " Why had [Edelgard] even been born at all? Nonexistence would have been preferable to watching every faint dream be dashed, to suffering alone over and over. She was just…so tired of being alive." -> Once. Again. Suicidal tendencies/thoughts is not a trait Edelgard shows in canon... (Strikes against canon: 98)

- ...but Dimitri does. The fourth! The fourth time in one chapter the author desperately wanted to just write Dimitri!

- If the fic wanted to take Edelgard in a different direction than canon does and has her display some of these traits, it would be more passable, but this fic is under the delusion that it is in any way following canon closely, especially in regards to Edelgard, and so this can only be seen as a desperate attempt from the author to have Edelgard be sympathetic by donning the skin of an actually sympathetic character such as Dimitri

- "Edelgard looked at herself in the mirror. The back of her academy uniform was stained red, the rhythmic, soft dripping of blood assaulting the princess’ ears." -> And no one commented on this? No one was worried? Not Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, who were sitting right by her? Not Lysithea, who saw her take the blow to her back and never get it healed? Not Dimitri, who delivered the blow? It just so happened that literally no one at all noticed this?

- Byleth literally slapped Edelgard on the back earlier? Wouldn't her hand come back red with blood if it were seeping through the uniform?

** The scene that follows the previous note is too long to quote, despite how truly terrible it is. Long quotes, even extremely long quotes, have been presented in these notes before, but the length this quotation would be if the full extent of it were written here would be a mess, and quite frankly, at that point it would do one better to simply go to the fanfiction itself and read the text from there. With the context received from these notes, if one wishes to see the words for themselves, go to chapter 21 of The Emperor and the Goddess, enter Ctrl + F (or Find in Page on mobile devices), and enter the phrase "Byleth crossed her arms, clearly frustrated" verbatim. The following note will not be quoting the entire scene from the fic (merely summarizing it), though context is needed to understand how truly bad the scene is. **

- To have hope in this fic performing anything correctly is proving to be a fool's dream, for it has yet to do anything right; that includes the aforementioned gash upon Edelgard's back. As stated, it did not draw the attention of those who were sitting around her nor did it draw the attention of the one who witnessed the injury itself, nor of the one who delivered the injury itself, so no one commented on the gaping, bleeding wound Edelgard was "hiding" from everyone as she turned her (bleeding) back to them and left for the baths to clean up (it must be heavily stressed: immediately after leaving it is revealed that the blood is seeping through her uniform). As she was washing - naked, of course - Byleth just so happened to step into the baths with only a towel wrapped around her "for modesty," much to the horror of Edelgard, for she does not want Byleth seeing her scarred body. A slight argument arises between the two over Edelgard getting her injuries checked, before Byleth warns Edelgard that she will go to Rhea and force her to go to the infirmary should Edelgard continue to refuse treatment, which drives Edelgard past the brink. She raises her arms from the bathwater and presents her scars (""Fine!... If you want to see so badly, here!""), to the horror of Byleth ("Byleth Eisner was not a woman given to strong emotional reactions, but she staggered back, hands over her mouth."). Edelgard cries in hysteria, fear of her beloved teacher running away in disgust over her ugly, mutilated body overwhelming her. But Byleth, childlike in her innocence, shared that she too is scarred in strange ways, and that she too is scared of failing those around her - that she has no ambitions save to help and protect those around her. Byleth reveals that it is Edelgard whom Byleth looks up to for always being so strong and always moving forward, and shows that without Edelgard Byleth wouldn't know how to handle the pressure everyone else puts on her. The exchange ends with Byleth reassuring Edelgard that she is beautiful and not the monster she thinks she is.

- There is no nice way of putting this: this is a classic example of how not to write someone opening up to another about something. Edelgard views herself as weak, ugly, repulsive, a monster, shameful, but it is Byleth's love and affection that gives her comfort and warmth, that gives her hope of something more. It forces Byleth to behave wildly out of character (the author can try to excuse this with "well she wouldn't normally behave like this!" all he wants, it doesn't matter when it goes against the base, canonical Byleth. Strikes against canon: 99) in order for Edelgard's scarred body to be seen as something that is repulsive, that is ugly, that is stained, so much so that the pure, childlike, innocent Byleth couldn't stand to see something so tainted. And yet it is that same pure, childlike, innocent Byleth's pure, innocent, childlike love that pushes away the pain of Edelgard's scars for just that moment. Other characters become suddenly blind and/or forgetful of Edelgard's obvious, bleeding wound so that it is Byleth who can be the one to save Edelgard with her pure, innocent, childlike presence and her pure, innocent, childlike uncertainty about her own insecurities (but only when it is convenient for Edelgard, as even Byleth didn't noticed the gaping, bleeding wound until she was alone with Edelgard where no one could interrupt their bonding moment). This scene is inorganic and forced, ham-fisting Edelgard and Byleth in the same room - the wash room, where both are either naked or nearly naked - so that Byleth is the one to find Edelgard, no one else. No one was worried enough about the sudden exit Edelgard took from the conversation she was having to follow her and make sure she was alright, and Byleth just so happened to enter the baths right after Edelgard. The scene is, to be frank, insulting.

- There have been a couple of joking references to a book titled Stones to Abigail in these notes, but in all seriousness, this scene plays unsettlingly similar to a scene in said book, where a scarred girl who is naked reveals her "ugly" and "revolting" scarred body to the love interest, who goes on to soothe and comfort the naked girl as best they can. The resemblance is uncanny

- Byleth described as childlike/innocent. Counter: 5

- Edelgard, in canon, never expresses feeling herself to be ugly, or repulsive, or a monster. Strikes against canon: 100

- Again, Edelgard's scars are only important when they are convenient - this time, in helping develop the romantic relationship between her and Byleth

- There are ways in which scars can be utilized without being problematic, but certainly not when this much focus is placed on them and yet they are only truly present when they cannot hinder Edelgard.

- Perhaps particularly insulting is this phrase from Edelgard: "Did she actually love Byleth at all, or just being saved by her?" Yes, Edelgard, you do simply want to be saved by Byleth, because that is precisely what the narrative has been drilling into the reader's heads ever since Byleth showed herself. Byleth is Edelgard's light, Byleth is Edelgard's hope, Byleth gives Edelgard back her humanity, Byleth is Edelgard's one source of joy, Byleth is Edelgard's entire life, and nothing, absolutely nothing in this fic has shown this to ever be a bad thing. This dependence on Byleth to bring Edelgard joy at the near complete expense of everyone else has been propped up as something romantic, and yet it's now, 21 chapters and over 85K+ words in, that we're supposed to believe that this was actually Edelgard being unhealthy? Even though the author himself said that this was what he enjoyed about their relationship, how much they found each other in each other? Even though we see what the author thinks would happen to the two of them should they separate - Edelgard, lonely and afraid without her beloved teach, and Byleth, the Ashen Demon who cares for nothing without her beloved student - in her visions of SS? This is a joke

- It cannot be overstated that Byleth came to the bathhouses completely independently of Edelgard. She did not come to specifically see her because she followed her out of worry for Edelgard due to her injury - she only knows that Edelgard's injured in the first place due to seeing bloody bandages that Edelgard removed in the bathhouse, before Byleth arrived.

- Author's notes: "On Bergliez, we find out very little in-game, but he 1) offers himself for execution so his men can go free in SS and 2) seems to be actually competent at his job. I thought a nuanced portrayal was more interesting, since I've been writing Aegir as the absolute worst person in the world." -> Note: this is what the author believes to be a nuanced take on someone. Someone who likes Edelgard entirely and does nearly whatever they can to help her, but they did one thing that's morally gray (leaving a child behind to save his own children from the same fate) that is portrayed as objectively bad, so now they are nuanced. While perhaps this sort of character would be truly nuanced in better hands, as it is with his actions being portrayed as something that is obviously so completely and utterly wrong and him someone who deserves complete and utter condemnation - and yet Ionius, who does far worse for far less understandable reasons, gets a comparative slap on the wrist - it causes confusion as to Edelgard's lines. Bergliez seeing her the one time and never helping her is enough for her to want to hurt him as she was hurt, but her father repeatedly coming to and "being forced" to watch her actively be tortured and doing nothing does little to invoke similar depths of resentment? Even granting the idea that "she gives more slack to her father," Ionius is objectively and far worse than Bergliez, down to doing hard things to protect their children, and yet it is only Bergliez who is shined in this unpleasant a light

- To be clear, Bergliez's decision was not a good one, but understandable. It is a gray decision to make. But notice how he is called "gray" and "nuanced" and yet Ionius is nearly completely innocent, as described by the author himself, despite their being no given explaination as to why "he was a figurehead" should be a good enough reason to wash him literally standing there and watching as his children - some of whom aren't even teens yet - get slowly tortured and killed.

- "There are many localization changes I understand (Byleth wanting to get drunk after the battle is one of them), but Treehouse's decision to remove Ionius' entire reason for power centralization (eliminating the consorts) was a big, big mistake." -> Given the history of this author's grasp on the Japanese language, this needs to be checked, as he cannot be trusted as a source as to whether this is true

******* Notes of Claude mischaracterization: Chapter 21, section 1, paragraphs 1, 21 & 23, 27 *******

[twistedtummies2]

Top 12 Pandora Hearts Characters

Moriarty the Patriot may be my new favorite anime and manga series, but today, I feel like talking about my OTHER favorite manga (and what COULD have been my favorite anime, if it had only gone on longer): a little franchise known as Pandora Hearts. Japan has a huge following for the works of Lewis Carroll, but Pandora Hearts has probably the most unusual manner of reinterpreting the characters. The story of PH is set in a world where human beings coexist with monstrous entities known as Chains: demon-like beings who are all directly inspired, in terms of name and design, on characters from Wonderland. With a few exceptions, the characters themselves do not have the names of characters from the books; instead, it is the Chains they make bargains with, form “Contracts” with, that tell you what character from the stories they are meant to represent. It’s a cool idea, and whether you look at this franchise as a new take on Wonderland, or just look at the characters on their own terms separate from the books, they are all fun and engaging characters who are frequently much more complex than they at first seem. Now, Pandora Hearts is a series with a lot of twists and turns, so I’m going to try and keep this as spoiler-free as possible when it comes to some of the REALLY big twists, but there’s only so much I can do. So if you haven’t read the manga, or at least watched the anime, and don’t want things spoiled, just be wary in case something pops up here you weren’t wanting to know ahead of time. Also, because this is me writing this list, I will give away which characters from the Wonderland stories these characters are analogous with in their descriptions. With that said... “The time has come,” the Walrus says, “To honor them today! So here’s a list of my favorites to lighten up your day!” (pauses) Yes, I’m aware that rhyme was terrible, just run with it. These are My Top 12 Favorite Pandora Hearts Characters!

12. Echo & Noise.

Wonderland Analogues: Tweedledee & Tweedledum.

One thing you need to know about Pandora Hearts is that...honestly, like a lot of anime/manga, in my opinion...it can be rather confusing at times. The lore of this world, partially because it takes so many twists and turns all over the place, is a little hard to follow at times. I’ll try be succinct and as major-spoiler-free as possible, as I said before. With that said, these two are a prime example of how things get twisted up. Echo and Noise are essentially a classic Jekyll-&-Hyde scenario; a pair of separate identities occupying the same body. Noise, also called “Zwei,” is the original personality: a member of the mysterious and dangerous Baskerville Clan, she is, as her name suggest, loudmouthed, crazy, and rather all over the place. Noise is in control of a Chain known as “Duldee,” and the Chain is responsible for the creation of the other personality: Echo. Echo is the exact opposite of Noise: she is quiet, constantly polite, and indeed often seems to be little more than a robot, very emotionless and unnervingly calm, even in the heat of battle. As Echo, she is the unsettlingly loyal servant of one of the series’ chief antagonists, Vincent Nightray, and their relationship is...a little creepy. Vincent frequently treats her like a beloved child or pet, but he also frequently uses her for his own selfish ends, never worrying about nearly killing her in order to get what he wants, and seeming to see her more as an object than another living being. Despite this, the most upset with him Echo ever gets is calling him “annoying” (now, THERE’S an understatement), and Noise herself is absolutely obsessed with him. Their twisted relationship with Vincent, and all the fun that’s had with these two different personalities, is a big part of what gets them a slot on the list.

11. Oscar Vessalius.

Wonderland Analogue: N/A

While most of the characters in Pandora Hearts are easily identified by their Chains, some don’t even have Chains, and thus cannot be readily identified as any character from the Carroll classics. Oscar Vessalius, whom I frequently and affectionately refer to as “Uncle Oscar,” is one of those cases. Now, to be fair, Uncle Oscar is not the most complex character in this series, but he IS one of the most endearing. Oscar is the paternal uncle of our main protagonist, Oz, and considering Oz’s father is...well...a gigantic douchebag of the highest order...Oscar really is more of a father to Oz than anybody else in the series. Oscar is unflappably encouraging and jolly, and extremely protective and caring when it comes to his family. He’s always there to support Oz and his friends, tries his best to get along with everybody, and generally speaking brightens up every single scene he has. Despite this, Oscar does have a bit of a sly and sneaky side to him, as well as a slightly lecherous leaning in some cases, which keep him from being too perfect or one-note a character. While he has no direct ties to Wonderland, some have suggested that he MIGHT be inspired by Lewis Carroll himself, and there are a few subtle things that could suggest that...but either way, he’s ultimately a purely original character, and of those ranks, he’s easily one of the best.

10. Reim Lunettes.

Wonderland Analogue: March Hare.

Reim, sometimes called “Liam,” is the best friend of Xerxes Break and one of the most notable members of Pandora: a not-so-secret organization dedicated to the study of Chains and the protection of the world. Sort of a Victorian-styled Men in Black, if you will. (pauses) The Will Smith Men in Black, I should say. ANYWAY, an interesting thing I’ve noticed with many interpretations of the March Hare in Japanese culture is they tend to make him a somewhat more serious and more easily flustered character than the Mad Hatter. Reim is no exception: he’s a panicky workaholic who is frequently the butt of other people’s jokes, and tries to treat things with a no-nonsense demeanor, taking his job extremely seriously and always worried about what’s best for his employers. In some ways, one could argue he acts more like the White Rabbit, but that character is one we’ll get to later. At any rate, while Reim is constantly obsessed with his work, and frequently frustrated by Break’s antics, as well as the shenanigans of other characters, he has a heart of gold and is always there to try and help his friends and colleagues when they most require assistance. His Chain also has a pretty impressive power that one does not expect...but I mustn’t say more, or I’ll spoil something important.

9. Sharon Rainsworth.

Wonderland Analogue: Unicorn.

Another character with close ties to Xerxes Break, Sharon is an interestingly dichotomous character. She’s one of the first people we encounter in this series, and she plays a big part in the story as it unfolds...but in the early parts of the franchise, what’s interesting is that Sharon stays largely in the background. Now, at first, it seems this is because she’s one of the head members of Pandora, and Break is technically her servant; so it makes sense the others would interact more with Break than Sharon. But as time goes on, and we learn more about Sharon, we find that’s not so much the case. Sharon and Break have a brother-and-sister relationship, with Sharon seeing Break as her surrogate big brother, and Break seeing her as his little sister. The problem with this relationship is that Break will do anything to protect Sharon, and at times that can go a bit too far, as Sharon truly wants to be of use to him and prove she’s just as powerful as he is or any other major member of the team. Indeed, her Chain, Equus the Black Unicorn, has many impressive abilities, including being able to open a gateway between Earth and the Hell-like dimension of The Abyss. A lot of this dichotomy is visible in Sharon’s personality: most of the time she’s very demure, polite, sweet, and ladylike. But the more we see of Sharon, the more we become aware of other facets to her personality. She’s shown to have a tough and domineering side to her character, and has some eccentricities of her own. Most notably, she’s absolutely INSANE when it comes to romance stories and romantic situations, and holds both the standards of ladies and gentlemen in high regard. Whether she’s a soothing presence or a downright scary one, Sharon is always an interesting character to return to.

8. Rufus Barma.

Wonderland Analogue: Dodo.

There are a few characters in the frequently twisted-up world of Pandora Hearts who have a habit of constantly keeping you guessing...but the king of mystery, without a shadow of a doubt, is the Duke Rufus Barma. His analogous Chain, Dodo, is able to conjure impressive illusions, and this illusionary skill is only the tip of the iceberg in showing how this man constantly manages to make you wonder just what is going on in his head. Barma lives by the code of “knowledge is power,” and constantly seeks to learn everything he can about...well...anything and anybody he wants. Money and prestige are secondary to him. He’s very soft-spoken and cold, even when angered, and carries himself with a sense of grace that’s rather flamboyant, but somehow not exactly loud or over-the-top in the way some of the other characters can be. His exact goals and motivations are constantly second-guessed, and you’re never really sure what makes him tick or what side he’ll take. You’re never really sure if he’s a villain or a hero. I love characters like this, in general, so it’s ultimately no surprise that Rufus Barma gets a solid spot on this list.

7. The Will of the Abyss.

Wonderland Analogue: White Rabbit.

The Will of the Abyss (sometimes called “Alyss” and sometimes called “The Intention of the Abyss”) isn’t a villain we see a whole lot of. She is the queen of the Abyss; the ruler of everything there. The Abyss, itself, is the home of the demon-like chains: ghoulish entities who feed on human beings, body and soul, and are formed from those who have fallen into the Abyss in the past. The place is described as “a broken toy box” and is a horrifying limbo realm of killer dolls and psychotic puppets. Needless to say, it’s not exactly an ideal vacation spot. The Will is a mysterious and mercurial character; she’s mostly a peripheral villain, since we see more of the Chains she controls than her, herself, and much of what we DO see of her actually comes through flashbacks...but in that overall brief amount of time, she proves to be honestly the single scariest character in the series, as well as one of the saddest. Part of this is due to her mood: the Will can shift from seemingly innocent and playful to screaming like a banshee in a split-second; she can go from crying and sobbing like a sad little girl to being as refined and elegant as a proper queen. And there really isn’t a safe place with her, in any of this, either; sometimes that playful and sweet persona is a good thing, but other times...yeah, it’s...um...REALLY not. Like many Chains, she’s violent and bloodthirsty, but unlike other Chains, there’s some humanity to her and you get the feeling that a lot of her actions are justified. She’s still very much a villain, but she’s also a victim, in a way, and as the story goes on, you feel bad for her and are truly sorry when her part in the series’ events is finished. Whether she makes you whimper with terror or makes you want to hug her and console her, the Will of the Abyss is bound to get a major reaction from you.

6. Vincent Nightray.

Wonderland Analogue: Dormouse.

One of the main antagonists of the series (though not, for the record, THE main antagonist...they actually don’t appear in this top twelve), Vincent Nightray is another character who changes throughout the series. What I find most interesting about Vincent is that he, himself, changes very little. It’s more the attitude the reader has to him, in the manga, that changes. See, if you only know Vincent from the anime, or the chapters in the manga that the anime covers, chances are you find him to be a pretty repugnant person. He’s creepy, he’s treacherous, he’s responsible for some of the most screwed-up things any character in this franchise does, and that’s saying a lot. He’s totally insane, and sort of seems to be aware of it, and seems to have an unhealthy interest in his own brother, Gilbert. In fact, with how disturbing he is, and the kinds of things he tries, you start off thinking he’s the main antagonist...and, for a while, he pretty much is. However, as the series continues in the manga, and you learn more about Vincent - why he is the way he is, and what exactly he wants to accomplish - the more you come to understand him and sympathize with him. Make no mistake, Vincent is a villain; in fact, even he seems to be aware of the fact that he’s sort of a monster. But he’s the kind of villain you come to feel sorry for and realize that, if things had been different, maybe could have turned out a much better person. In a way, Vincent is a foil to the ACTUAL main antagonist. Without giving anything away, the real main villain of the series follows the opposite path: at first he seems sympathetic and endearing, but the more we learn about him and the more horrible things he does, the more we come to loathe him and want to see him kicked in the face a thousand times over. Vincent, meanwhile, we start off hating his guts, but by the time his part in the story ends, we’re sad to see him go, because we understand him and care about him, and realize not everything was his fault. I actually feel a little bad for not placing Vincent higher, but I doubt the characters above him will drastically disappoint. He may have been one of the nastiest characters in the franchise, but if ever proof was needed that Evil is a lonely course to take, Vincent Nightray could provide it.

5. Cheshire Cat.

Wonderland Analogue: Doesn’t need to be given, because IT’S HIS NAME.

Again, the Cheshire Cat doesn’t have a lot of time in the series - he gets one major arc fairly early on, appears in several flashbacks afterwards, and then makes a sudden and unexpected return much later in the story - but that doesn’t keep him from being one of the most fascinating figures in the universe of PH. Cheshire is the reincarnation of an innocent kitten who belonged to a girl named Alice; the kitten was brutally murdered by Vincent Nightray. As a Chain, the Cheshire Cat is steadfastly loyal to the Will of the Abyss, and - at least at the start of the series - dwells within a mysterious realm simply known as “The Cheshire Cat’s House.” The “house” is an eerie Victorian mansion that is literally made up of all of the worst memories the Will has, and Cheshire guards the mansion and the Will herself with ferocious zeal. It’s ironic because this is a very different take on the Cheshire Cat, in general: the character in the book, and most other adaptations, is a chaotic being who shows loyalty to seemingly no one, and while some versions lean more towards good or evil, friend or foe, than others, he ultimately isn’t an obedient housecat. He’s more of an enigmatic agent of madness. This Cheshire Cat is a totally different spin on things. He’s got human-like intelligence, for the most part, and occasionally speaks in a cryptic or evasive manner, but he’s not the puzzling imp of Carroll’s classic. He doesn’t even SMILE all that often...and when he does it’s...well...the most terrifying thing you’ll ever see. But just because he’s a very different take on the character, doesn’t mean he’s still not a good one; Cheshire’s mixture of ravenous hunger (all Chains are so), sadistic ferocity, and childlike adoration of the Will make him a very layered character. Like the Will herself, he can be very creepy and menacing, but he can also be sympathetic and sweet, since he still very much is that loving kitten whose life was cut short. In a very short time, he becomes one of the most standout characters, and despite a relatively short lifespan (so to speak), it’s clear the creators really liked Cheshire, since they tried to find ways to fit him in all over the place. It’s a sign of restraint on their parts, I’d say, that he doesn’t pop up more often throughout the franchise. When he does pop up, he’s a scene stealer, and I was always excited to see him.

4. Oz Vessalius.

Wonderland Analogue: N/A

Our chief protagonist, and another original character, Oz Vessalius is a teenager whose life is turned upside-down when, at his Coming-of-Age Ceremony, a group of depraved cultists send him body and soul into the Abyss. He makes a contract with a Chain called Alice, and escapes the Abyss, only to discover that the very short time he spent down there equated to a full decade in the real world. He is enlisted by Pandora, and the rest of the series focuses on his adventures as he tries to discover the secrets of a cataclysmic event from the past known as “The Tragedy of Sablier” - in which an entire city was somehow sucked down into the Abyss. Oz is an endearing young hero, as his youth is mixed with a curious maturity. At times he’s very silly and almost hopelessly optimistic, but at other times he shows a very fatalistic and calculating side to his personality. Part of this is due to his upbringing, as his father never showed him any love at all, and the best friend he ever really had was his own servant, Gilbert. He didn’t exactly get out much to explore the world. So while he’s lived a very sheltered life, it’s also been a very cold one. Oz works on a philosophy of acceptance, just going with the flow and trying not to let the bad things get to you...but considering he frequently claims his own life means very little to him, it’s very clear the bad things DO get to him. In fact, despite his privileged youth, he puts the lives of others vastly before his own, even when he doesn’t know them all that well. He just doesn’t like to show how much things can hurt him, and tries to press ahead no matter what. It’s a complex sort of way of thinking - being proud and unflinching and yet humble and downright self-loathing, all with a dash of youthful exuberance - and as the series goes on, and we learn more about Oz than maybe even he knows, it only becomes more fascinating. He may not be my favorite character, but he’s a fine protagonist for us to follow, and certainly worthy of high marks here.

3.  Gilbert Nightray.

Wonderland Analogue: The Monstrous Crow...probably.

I say “probably” because Gilbert’s Chain, as well as his own codename, is “Raven,” which is an obvious reference to the riddle “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I guess it’s possible both were inspirational, but the Crow is an actual creature/character in the stories, so it’s the one I choose to credit. Whatever the case, Gil is one of the other major protagonists in the series, and...this guy is freaking adorable. I know he doesn’t look it, but trust me, he’s adorable. At the start of the series, we meet Gil as a small boy, who has amnesia about his past and works as a servant for Oz. Oz is not only his Master, but his best friend, and Gil will do absolutely anything to protect and serve his “Young Master” no matter what. After Oz descends into the Abyss, Gil - blaming himself - tries to run away...and is enlisted, at a very young age, by Xerxes Break. He becomes a double-agent, working for both the Rainsworth and Nightray households, upon discovering he is actually a long-lost member of the Nightray family. When Oz returns years later, Gil is a seemingly changed man: stoic, stern, always dressed in black, smoking heavily, and rarely speaking. Very quickly, however, we discover a lot of this stoicism is a facade: underneath it all, Gil is very much still a child at heart, and even though he’s grown older, he still sees Oz as his brother and best friend, as well as his true master, and will do anything to protect and to help him. Just as Oz always puts his life ahead of others, Gil’s foremost thoughts are always with Oz and how he can help him, and the lengths he’ll go to in order to keep Oz safe are sometimes touching, sometimes hilarious, and sometimes downright heartbreaking. Gil’s “dark side” is certainly engaging - he’s a crack shot with a pistol, and has a gloomy and cynical sense of humor - but I think what’s most endearing about him are the moments...and there are surprisingly many...where we see the cracks in the armor, and this “seaweed head” shows that he really hasn’t changed as much as he often claims. Whether he’s a man of action or a man of hilarious hijinks, Gilbert Nightray is more than worthy of a place in the top three.

2. Alice.

Wonderland Analogue: Again, IT’S HER NAME.

The secondary protagonist of the series, after Oz, this Alice is a far cry from the little girl we know of from the Carroll stories. At the start of the franchise, we are introduced to Alice as a Chain known as “B. Rabbit” - a title that stands for both “Black Rabbit” and “Bloody” or “Bloodstained Rabbit.” (In fact, her full title is often given as “The Bloody/Bloodstained Black Rabbit.”) B. Rabbit is one of the most powerful Chains out there, and in her Chain form, Alice is a nigh-unstoppable powerhouse ruled by bloodthirst - a maniacal berserker whose morning star chains and massive scythe cleave through even the toughest opponents with ease. However, Alice can also resort to human form, and here she’s much more...well...human. She has the same basic weaknesses a human has, she’s not quite as psychotic (though she DOES have a nasty temper at times)...really, the only sign of her being a Chain is her ravenous hunger. Like any Chain, Alice is ALWAYS hungry, and always hungry for MEAT. Thankfully, unlike other Chains, Alice has no desire to consume human beings. Indeed, while at first she comes across as frightening and intimidating, Alice has a very vulnerable side to her; she’s lived her life without any real friends or family, since the only “family” she has is her twin, the Will of the Abyss...and, to put things simply, they don’t get along very well. Much like Oz, she often feels like she’s undeserving of other people’s care and attention, but while Oz compensates this through being charitable and caring, Alice compensates by over-inflating herself; a classic “superiority complex via inferiority complex” issue. She’s never unlikeable, however, and as the series goes on - and we come to realize that Alice’s true identity, and her status as a Chain, is a lot less cut-and-dry than we might think - she only becomes a more and more fun and fascinating character...arguably more fascinating than Oz. Indeed, it’s really Alice who drives so much of the plot of the series forward, as her whole goal in the series is to find out the truth of her past and regain her lost memories, and it’s through the team’s efforts to help Alice in this goal that so much of the story is told. Oz is really just along for the ride, at least at first. Powerful but not invincible, and easily one of my favorite takes on the title character of the Carroll stories, Alice nabs second place easily…

...But who in the great wide world could take first? That honor goes to...

1. Xerxes Break.

Wonderland Analogue: The Mad Hatter AND The White Knight.

Yep. Two characters. How is this possible? Well, the first thing to know about Xerxes Break is that he wasn’t always called “Xerxes Break.” Once upon a time, he was a knight called Kevin Regnard, who served a noble family; his Chain was called Albus the White Knight. When Regnard’s mistakes led to the destruction of the entire family, he went absolutely bonkers and became a twisted serial killer known as the Red-Eyed Ghost. Ultimately, however, his contract with Albus ended, and Regnard was dragged down into the Abyss, where the Will and the Cheshire Cat ripped out one of his eyes (...yikes…), and plotted to turn him into another Chain. Things get a bit complicated at this point, but basically, Kevin managed to escape and was thrown into another time and place upon doing so. He was taken in by the Rainsworth family, befriend Reim Lunettes, and steadily began to come out of his shell. He took the name “Xerxes Break,” because he felt “broken,” later formed a contract with a very special and powerful Chain known as The Mad Hatter (in fact, one of Break’s nicknames is “Mr. Hatter”), and crafted a whole new personality for himself: Kevin Regnard was stern, work-obsessed, and wore his heart on his sleeve. Xerxes Break is in every way his opposite. When it comes to takes on the Mad Hatter, Break is one of the best; granted, we very rarely see him WEAR a hat, but the personality of the guy speaks for itself. Break often comes across as clownish and childishly hyperactive, constantly eating sweets, performing magic tricks and weird stunts just for the sheer sake of it, prancing around and giggling like a small boy, and even interacting with a puppet he calls “Emily”...which...may or may not actually be alive. However, much of this is a facade, as underneath it all, Break is...well...broken. Not just in body (he’s much, much older and more frail than he often seems), but in terms of his mind; he’s half-crazed and extremely mercurial. Much like with Rufus Barma, Break is somebody you’re never entirely sure of, but in a different way. Break, you see, is very open and honest; he never tells lies and he makes his loyalties and disloyalties very clear. But at the same time he’s very secretive and enigmatic, often speaking in riddles and partial-truths to throw people off. He’s very cunning and intelligent, and a gifted swordsman, and will do anything and use almost anyone to get what he wants. So while he can be extremely funny, he can also be very frightening and ruthless. You’re never sure what’s going to set him off and if the next line he says is going to be a threat or a joke. And as the series goes on, and we see more and more of Break’s vulnerabilities, we only come to care about him more and more, though, at the same time, he always remains an eternal mystery. A riddle with no real answer...just like the Mad Hatter’s from the book. (Way to bring things around, don’t you think?) Whether you look at him as a version of the Hatter, or look at him just for who and what he is on his own terms, he is, in my opinion, the most well-rounded and fascinating character in the whole series, and easily takes the top spot as My Favorite Pandora Hearts Character. Xerxes Break, I doff my own topper to thee. (tips hat)

Honorable Mentions Include...

Elliot Nightray.

Leo.

Jack Vessalius.

Lottie Baskerville.

Lily Baskerville.

Ada Vessalius.

Phillipe West.

[skullsandwineglasses]

Ancient Love Poetry (2021) - Episodes 1-3 First Impressions

This is not bad so far. I’ve seen a lot of mixed reactions about this drama, but it’s actually pretty decent. I heard that it’s being ripped apart by audiences in China, but some people on reddit mentioned that the drama is actually good, but people are just critical of Zhou Dongyu and Xu Kai. AvenueX was skeptical of the drama, but I find that her reviews of xianxia dramas can be kinda harsh. The drama hasn’t finished airing yet so there aren’t many ratings and reviews on MDL, but the drama currently has an 8.3 on there, which I think is a pretty decent rating even though it’s likely to change as more people finish the drama. Most of the dramas that I’ve enjoyed also average at around an 8.3 on MDL. 

Plot

The plot is pretty fast-paced. The leads develop feelings for each other really early on. The opening does a good job of establishing the personalities of the characters and drawing you into the story. A drama will successfully draw me in if it raises enough questions and establishes enough plot points to make me curious to see what will happen next.

The FL has a different background from the FLs in other xianxia dramas. Shang Gu is destined to become the leader of the 4 realms, but she’s been spoiled by her guardians Zhi Yang and Tian Qi, so her powers are underdeveloped. The FLs in other xianxia dramas tend to start off as a nobody/underdog, but Shang Gu starts off as the most highly regarded figure in the realm. She’s basically a princess. Her guardians are played by Li Ze feng and Liu Xue Yu respectively, and they’ve always had such strong performances as supporting characters in other dramas, so it was a pleasant surprise seeing them both here. Their characters have great brotherly chemistry, and they provide comedic relief. 

The ML is your stereotypical stoic, brooding, emotionally suppressed, and powerful immortal. He has no interest in women, that is until he’s tasked by Zhi Yang and Tian Qi to be Shang Gu’s mentor in order to help her unlock her powers. All the women in the immortal realm crush over him, but he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about it. Very typical. 

Chemistry

The ML and FL’s relationship reminds me of Bai Zhi Hua and Hua Qian Gu’s teacher-student relationship in Journey of Flower, which was the first xianxia drama that I watched. But, unlike Journey of Flower, Bai Jue and Shang Gu are less like teacher-student, but more like bickering enemies who eventually develop feelings for each other. 

My issue is that they develop feelings for each other too soon. And so I don’t really feel much chemistry between them, even though I want to. Bai Jue teaches her a few moves, helps her unlock her inner powers, they accidentally touch and get too close physically, and bam, feelings start to form. These are immortals who are thousands of years old. How are they able to develop feelings so easily and quickly? Especially Bai Jue who’s know by everyone to be lofty, emotionless, and misogynistic? 

There was only one moment when they were able to emotionally bond, and that was when Bai Jue misunderstood Shang Gu. Shang Gu was trying to fulfill the challenge he gave her, but he mistakenly thought that she was greedy. When he realized he misunderstood her, he began to soften towards her. But this event alone wasn’t convincing enough to make me believe that someone as cold as he is could fall for a spoiled and obnoxious girl like Shang Gu. 

They could have made it so that his character secretly enjoys Shang Gu’s loud antics because it makes his home more lively. That’s usually how they do it in other xianxia dramas where the bubbly FL is the manic pixie dream girl who uproots the ML’s quiet lifestyle and he falls for her against his better judgment. But no, they don’t do that in Ancient Love Poetry, so Bai Jue falling for Shang Gu felt forced. 

Acting

I’ve loved Zhou Dongyu since seeing her in the 2010 film Under the Hawthorn tree. But because I’ve seen people criticize her in Ancient Love Poetry, I was prepared to be disappointed. But honestly, it’s not that bad. Even her costuming isn’t that bad. She’s not impressive, but then again, it’s not an impressive or complex role. A lot of actresses are capable of playing her type of character, and a lot of actresses already have. But Zhou Dongyu delivers, and she does well with what she’s given. 

Xu Kai isn’t terrible, but he could definitely be better. Like what I mentioned above, his character is the stereotypical xianxia ML. And so there have been plenty of actors before him who have shown how to portray a cold, stoic, and resistant character who’s slowly moved by the FL: Cheng Yi in Love and Redemption, Wallace Huo in Journey of Flower (although he also got a lot of flack at the time for being expressionless), and Chang Chen in Love and Destiny. The key to playing this kind of ML is that you’re emotionally suppressed, which means that you try to be emotionless, but there are moments when you can’t hide your emotions and they break to the surface. It’s all about the internal struggle where you pretend to act one way but feel another. As an actor, you need to be able to convey subtle and nuanced microexpressions that reveal how your character truly feels. 

Granted, Bai Jue is a little different from Bai Zhi Hua and Sifeng who forbade themselves from falling in love, but Bai Jue is more like Jiu Chen and Ye Hua who just have never known love before and is now experiencing it for the first time. But for all of these MLs, the common thread is that they undergo a change in character. In these first 3 episodes of Ancient Love Poetry, we keep being told by other characters in the drama how Bai Jue has changed “so much” since agreeing to mentor Shang Gu, but I don’t see this change in Xu Kai’s portrayed of Bai Jue. 

On reddit, I’ve mentioned how I've seen Xu Kai in The Legends and Arsenal Military Academy and IMO, Xu Kai doesn't really do well in roles where he has to be stoic and emotionally reserved. But he did really well in AMA where his character was a flirty, spoiled rich kid who eventually matures during his time at the academy, and it made me realize that he's capable of acting when given the right opportunity. His character was full of life and the complete opposite of his character in The Legends. He can be really expressive when his character warrants it, but when the character is supposed to be brooding, he doesn't bring enough nuance to his expressions and instead defaults to being flat and unmoving.

I also feel that Xu Kai’s performance was a little better in The Legends than in Ancient Love Poetry, but then again, I’ve only seen 3 episodes of ALP. I don’t know if it’s because his costar was Bai Lu and he felt more comfortable with her, or if it’s because Bai Jue is a character who’s supposed to be old, experienced, and wise, and Xu Kai is still too young to pull off that kind of role. He also looks incredibly young. He’s my age, and I’m just in awe of how clear his skin is and how it still looks like he has some baby fat. I’m also not a fan of his costuming. I like how Zhou Dongyu’s hair frames her face to make her look more delicate, but Xu Kai’s wig seems to flatten his head. I also think he looks better in dark robes like in The Legends, or his leather trenchcoat in AMA. He looked more rugged. But his white clothes in Ancient Love Poetry takes away from his character’s demeanor as a powerful immortal, and unlike Wallace Huo who’s older and thus is able to pull off dainty and delicate white robes, Xu Kai’s baby face doesn’t really pair well with it. 

Other notes:

The CGI is probably some of the better CGI that I’ve seen to date, and I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty impressed. Objects magically appear and disappear almost seamlessly, and characters teleport smoothly. 

Still waiting for the OST to come into full effect. It probably won’t happen until later in the drama when there’s more angst and emotion, but I also find it weird that they don’t have an opening theme? It’s just Zhou Shen singing some vocal effects, but no actual song. 

Overall, I’m going to keep watching. I’m a sucker for xianxia, and I love comparing the similarities and differences between different dramas, so I’m looking forward to seeing how this goes and whether it’s as bad as people say it is. 

[something-fanfiction-ie]

I Thought I Dreamed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Dismembered body parts, mentions of blood, and that’s about it??

A/N: HOLY SHIT GUYS ITS FINISHED. Oh my goodness that was hard, I don’t understand why. I still hardcore hate it, but I love you guys too much to leave you hanging. So here is part two to Dreams. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for sticking around through my terrible writer blocks.

...

[ Part One ]

“You’re sure it isn’t just a concussion?” Your fiancé says, his voice cracking with nerves. The bathroom tile of your hotel room is cool beneath your legs, Spencer sits directly across from you with your feet in his lap and his fingers tracing worried patterns across your shins.

Above your head on the bathroom counter, is a pregnancy test that still has three more minutes to come up with a yes or no answer to the question you were pretty sure you already knew the answer to. Balanced in your lap is a book about dream analysis that you’d picked up on the way to the hotel tonight.

“I had a dream, Spence. This books says that nearly everything about my dream pointed to me being pregnant.” His eyes narrow, one hand reaching out to flip through the pages you’ve tagged with sticky bookmarks. Your soon to be husband is a book fanatic, you’d learned early on that dog-eared pages were the antichrist of all book lovers everywhere.

“If you are pregnant, I can assure you that the dream was just your subconscious telling you what it had already pieced together before your conscious mind.” The clock outside the bathroom door ticks slowly. You think back to the little boy in your dream, and as scary as having two children so close together in age may be, you can’t help but be a little excited at the thought of a baby Spencer in the world.

“You don’t believe in dream analysis, so your opinion on the matter is biased.”

“Arguably, every opinion is biased. No one person can be one-hundred percent objective no matter the circumstances.” He’d have Spencer’s eyes, Graeson does already and she’s not even half a year old. Was it wrong of you to hope that all your children with Spencer would look and be exactly like him? Hopefully, in terms of intelligence, they would both be carbon copies of their father.

The tears that come to your eyes surprise you when you think about him taking the kids to a museum, holding your son in his arms and one of his fingers wrapped in your daughter’s grasp as he explains every artifact and display. Hastily, you reach up to wipe at the streams of water that wet your cheeks. Spencer sets the book aside, leaning forward worriedly.

Ashamed of your sudden mood swing, another blatant sign that you could be pregnant, you avoid eye contact by staring at the clock.

“Hey,” his voice is gentle, his hands reaching out to smooth down the sides of your arms, “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Your nose crinkles as you try to bite back the next onslaught of tears, hoping the last minute will go by fast. When you finally meet his gaze, the puddles of emotion that collected in your eyes spill over once again.

“You’ll take them to museums, right? You’ll make sure our kids aren’t dumb, right?” You don’t know why it’s so important to you, but the helplessness you feel is all too familiar as you recall a similar moment from your previous pregnancy.

“(Y/N). Breathe. Calm down.” You look up at your boyfriend from the bathtub, feeling not unlike a beached whale with your oversized stomach poking over the surface of the water surrounding you. The sides of the tub dig into your fingers as you grip the edges so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“I can’t calm down, Spencer! I don’t have enough time. I’m not prepared. If I’m not prepared now then who is to say I’m even supposed to be a mother? What if I completely screw our kid up? I don’t-” The air in your lungs doesn’t feel like enough and it feels like all too much at the same time. You’ve never felt like this before, especially not in the middle of a relaxing bath.

Slowly, Spencer reaches into the tub and pulls the stopper out of the bottom. With his other hand, he helps to pull you to your feet and wrap you in a soft, pink towel. He keeps making shushing noises like it’s going to help the overwhelming anxiety of becoming a new parent and, as much as you love him, it makes you want to scream.

But just before you give into your urges, he steps in front of you and lowers himself so that you don’t have to look up to meet his eyes. Either one of his hands come up to cradle your cheeks, you wonder if he notices the weight you’ve gained there since you started nearing your due date.

“You won’t screw our kid up. We will, together.” And you can’t help but let the laughter bubble out of your chest as you lean into him, letting his arms wrap around you as you lay your soaking wet head over his heart.

“We will, together.” He says again, reaching up to wipe a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. When he closes the distance to press a kiss to your forehead, causing you to close your eyes and force a deep breathe in through your nose, he plucks the test from the counter.

“Spencer! I thought this was a together thing!” You jump to your feet, reaching for the test that he has hanging over your head just out of reach.

“It is babe, but you have the advantage of knowing before me when it comes to these things and I just really want to know first one time.” You whine in protest, trying to determine the results on the small pink stick by profiling his body language.

His hand still up in the air, he tilts the small window toward his face. Both eyebrows go up, but his expression stays emotionless otherwise. Not even a muscle in his cheeks twitch. He’s way too good at hiding things when he wants to.

“Spencer.” You warn in your best imitation of Hotch’s commanding voice, stretching back up on your toes, your fingertips brush the plastic siding before he wraps his free arm around your back and pulls you to his chest. His kisses are like soft butterfly wings against your cheeks, eyelids, chin, forehead, and eventually lips.

In the two years you’ve been with Spencer, there have been all kinds of kisses. Kisses of burning passion and simmering anger, kisses of a deep and slow love, kisses of overwhelming joy and uncontrollable relief, but it’s this kind of kiss you’ve only ever felt once before.

The hand holding the test comes down to cradle your face, a thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. It reminds you of the way an art enthusiast might reach out to touch a painting or sculpture in awe, his lips moving against your own like you were a Goddess that he was praying to with complete faith and devotion.

When he finally broke away, his eyelashes damp with happy tears (and maybe a few scared tears), the facade is shattered and you can read his face like an open book.

“You’re getting really good at that mom voice for someone with a five month old.” He teased.

“And one on the way?” You have to make sure, you want to hear it come from his lips. Screw the test.

“Did you dream it was a boy, because I think it would be really cool if we had a boy this time.” You laugh into his lips, throwing both arms around his neck and bringing him down to your level. The curls that sway at his shoulder brush against the crooks of your elbows before you tangle your fingers into his hair.

And then, just like the horny teenagers you two definitely were around each other, he bends down and swoops you into his arms. The high pitched squealing laugh that bubbled between both of your lips came from you as he started to turn back to the hotel room.

“Now I’m really gonna have to make up for lost time while I can.” He teases, turning sideways so your feet and head don’t hit the doorframe.

The next day, back on the case of the dead girls with missing hands, the team notices the different energy between you. Like the way Spencer’s mouth opens in protest when Hotch suggests you accompany Morgan to the house of a possible suspect. You glare daggers at him from the door, a silent conversation flying between you before he finally closes his mouth and sinks into his seat. It did not go unnoticed by every other person in the room.

Or the day after that, when you offer to go get coffee for everyone instead of letting them drink nasty precinct coffee. (Something you used to do a lot when you’d been pregnant with Graeson and the places you went didn’t have decaf.)

The biggest tip off is the passing of peppermints between you and Spencer, the young doctor having somehow found the time to go to a convenience store and buy a bulk sized bag of the red and white candies to help with your nausea. The bag crinkles when he reaches into his satchel every so often.

Despite the fact that they all catch on pretty quickly, nobody says anything. They figure that you’ll tell them when you’re ready. Instead they focus on the case, which had been your hope the whole time.

You’re near the end of the investigation at this point, sucking on a peppermint and racing for one of the two addresses that Garcia had sent to your phones. Just this morning, another body had been found. His fuse was getting smaller as the days had passed and the investigation crawled at an unusually slow pace, meaning you were cutting it close to the wire if you wanted to save whatever poor girl had unknowingly incurred this man’s wrath.

With you, on the way to the workplace of a Ryan Christopher, is JJ, Hotch, and Prentiss. Rossi, Morgan, and Reid have their own car headed for his home. You’re in the backseat, holding onto your stomach and the edge of the leather bench seat as Hotch races through traffic. Garcia is explaining her findings over the speakerphone, you can hear Morgan and Reid interjecting every so often with their own thoughts and comments.

It isn’t until the SUV that you’ve been sliding around in finally bumps into the parking lot outside of a carpentry workshop that Hotch ends the call. The boys on one of the other two ends of the line say their own salutations, also approaching the unsub’s home.

“Be careful!” Spencer shouts to you over everyone. It’s really cute. You would dwell on it more, but given the fact that you were about to walk into a possible altercation with an unsub, you decided that staying sharp and focused was the way to go.

Quickly, all three FBI Agents slip out of the car, clustering together long enough to come up with a game plan. You rush for the back door, JJ gets the side, and Hotch readies himself at the front. It isn’t until every room in the workshop is clear that a little tension leaves your shoulders.

It’s obvious that he’s been here though, with giant pools of blood dried onto a workbench in one of the rooms. And if you weren’t sure of this man’s guilt before, then the small freezer full of hands that is bolted shut is enough to convince you otherwise.

“What is the point in bolting something shut if you have bolt cutters lying in the same room?” JJ comments, tossing her pale gold pony over her shoulder before letting the tool settle against the strap of her Kevlar.

You turn away from the freezer to try and quell the rolling in your stomach.

“I’m going to call Morgan to see if they have anything.” At this point, they should have cleared the house or arrested him, making you feel comfortable enough to pull out your phone and dial Derek’s number. He answers on the second ring, his tone of voice telling you everything that you need to know.

“Hey Mamacita, I’m gonna go ahead and assume he’s not over there?” The rest of the tension that you had been unconsciously holding in your chest leaves with the breath of relief that deflates your lungs. You shake your head, walking away from the freezer of hands to tell him everything you’d found in the ten minutes you’d been inside the workshop.

“That’s just a little gross,” Morgan comments. “Hey Spencer- Spencer!” His voice goes up an octave, booming through the speaker and reverberating in your ear.

“Morgan?! Morgan, what’s wrong?!” The sound of the phone clattering to the floor and a single gunshot is the only response you receive before you’re racing back outside.

The tires of the SUV screech against the asphalt outside Ryan Christopher’s home. Your heart leaped out of your chest with the wild swing of the vehicle underneath you. Ambulances, SUVs, and police cruisers scatter the road and lawn in front of you, several faces lifting to find the source of the sound.

“(Y/N)!” JJ cried, white knuckling the arm of her seat and the ‘Oh Shit’ handle above her head. The car was barely in park when you fumbled for the latch of your seatbelt, kicking the door open and rushing into the hordes of first responders.

You should have never agreed to let them separate you from each other. That was the only thing you could think the moment you heard Morgan cry your fiancé’s name over the phone.

“Spencer?!” You pushed past a couple of local cops who shot you dirty looks when you shoved your way between them. Your eyes couldn’t take in all the details around you fast enough, all you could focus on was finding the top of a curly brown head of hair. Rossi was the first to come up to you, grabbing you by the shoulders and meeting your eyes with a steady gaze.

“Don’t panic.” He said in the least reassuring manner humanly possible. You didn’t give him time to explain before you tore from his arms and ducked around him.

Ambulance. He would be in an ambulance. If he’s hurt that bad, you hope the ambulance has already left, but at the same time you need to see him. If you don’t you might actually vomit right here in the middle of everyone.

“SPENCER REID!” The sound came from your chest, booming over the clamor and bustle of everyone around you. More people stopped and stared as you stumbled toward the emergency vehicles parked at the other side of the mass of people. You didn’t care. The lack of response was setting you on edge.

Just before you could yell his name again, he suddenly appeared like a ghost might appear out of thin air. He certainly was as pale as a ghost, sitting at the end of an open ambulance with an ice pack gingerly held against the back of his head. One of his lanky arms was raised into the air, waving you over.

When you flew into his arms, burying your face into his chest and inhaling his familiar scent of coffee and laundry soap, he grunted a little in pain.

“Careful, I’m not broke but I’m definitely sore.” You loosened your grip from around his ribs, leaning back and beginning an assessment of his limbs and appendages. Everything was, thankfully, in its rightful place, but cuts and freshly forming bruises were littered all over his arms and face.

“We weren’t even separated an hour and this is how I come back to find you? Do you have no concern for my nerves? My sanity?!” Your voice is shrill with residual panic, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt so that they wouldn’t shake. Slowly, Spencer lowers the ice pack to the ambulance flooring before looping his arm around the tops of your shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, letting you ramble away the hysteria as he presses his lips to the crown of your head.

“You can’t ever get hurt, Spencer. We have a baby. We have two babies, actually. Stress is bad for pregnant women, you can’t put me under this kind of stress, I just, how could you be so careless? What even happened? You know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’m so mad at you right now, Spencer Reid. Just you wait until I’m not consumed with relief that you’re not dead, I might kill you myself.”

The tears wetting your cheeks betray your words, the rant loosing any of its sting as your voice cracks through it.

Putting his hands on either side of your face, he lifts your head up until you’re staring into those eyes you love so much that it actually rips your heart into a thousand tiny pieces every time you think about it.

“Breathe. Didn’t you just say stress isn’t good for the baby?” You want to punch him in the mouth and kiss him senseless at the same time, narrowing your eyes and fighting the smile that Spencer can already see twisting the edges of your lips.

“If you ever do that again-” You start to say, trying and failing to shake away the nightmarish possibilities you’d conjured up in your head on the twenty minute drive from Ryan’s workshop. Spencer smothers your rant into his chest when he folds you back into his arms, cradling the back of your head in one of his large hands.

“I will be more considerate of your nerves going forward, Mrs. Bennet.” He teases. You playfully swat at his back before finally letting his embrace settle over you with it’s usual calming affect.

…

“So are we allowed to talk about how you’re pregnant again?” JJ teases from the front of the elevator, unable to contain her own excitement when she notices the way you and Spencer have your heads leaned together in secret near the back.

Your head pops up, nearly bumping against your fiancée’s with the speed in which move to look at JJ. A cursory sweep across the faces of the rest of the team tells you that JJ isn’t the only one who had connected the dots.

“I hate working with profilers.” You groan, thankful for the ding that signals the opening doors. The sight of the BAU is very much welcome, calling to your fatigued limbs the way a siren might call to a pirate ship. This is your last stop before your bed. Your mother always babysat Graeson in your own home, which made it so much easier when you came back late and you weren’t in the mood to stop by her house at one or two o’clock in the morning to pick up your daughter.

“Hey, don’t get mad at us because you and pretty boy are terrible at keeping secrets.” Morgan teases, elbowing Spencer on his way out of the cramped elevator.

“And using contraceptive, apparently.” Prentiss comments as she goes about shuffling papers and files between bags on her desk. You send her a teasing glare, only letting her slide when she pulls you in for a congratulatory hug.

After she lets go, everyone files in one by one for their own congratulations, patting Spencer on the back (lightly, he has a minor concussion and some serious bruises) and squeezing you into excited hugs. Once Rossi pulls away with a teasing remark about how you find the time for sex between cases and a five month old baby, you pick up your things.

“Ready to go home?” Spencer smiles from his desk, gathering his own things into his arms before making his way over to you.

“I’ve been ready for hours.” You sigh, making your way back to the elevator. Someone shouts a last minute congratulations to you before you get to the clear doors. The sound of hurried heels clicking against the floor stops you in your tracks.

Somehow, in all the exhaustion and all the chaos, you’d forgotten Garcia.

“YOU’RE WHAT?”

[astrologista]

Gavin Bros. Analysis

here be spoilers for apollo justice (aa4)

There are already a bunch of posts all about AA:AJ and just what the heck was behind Kristoph Gavin’s Psychelocks. What were his motivations? Why did he do what he did? As fragmented as the story is surrounding the Gavin brothers, and as much as I wish the source material had rounded out their characters a little more, I believe the game actually tells you pretty much everything there is to know about this case rather succinctly. Don’t worry as I will use evidence to back up my claims...

It is notably interesting that Kristoph’s Psychelocks only come up when Phoenix asks him point blank why he killed Zak Gramarye. This is the one question that Kristoph consistently refuses to answer directly, both in Solitary Cell 13 and in his testimony at his trial. Coincidentally, this is also the main question that he ever gets asked that speaks to his emotions or state of mind. Kristoph has a really good logical answer for basically all of the evidence-based questions. But, it’s also not a coincidence that Apollo has the presence of mind to note - “why not bring up the motive from the start? unless it was a battle he thought he might lose...”

This establishes pretty clearly that Kristoph is going to have a vested interest in keeping all questioning solidly focused on the material evidence at hand such as the postage stamp, the nail polish, and reasons why he cannot be directly connected to those objects. The law provides plenty of escape hatches and loopholes for Kristoph to exploit, which he does, providing him with the legal basis to be able to escape punishment due to the inability for anyone to prove his guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. This is not surprising as being a very successful defense attorney is literally his job and he happens to be extremely competent at it.

This kind of person is scary if you meet them in real life because they can always seem to wriggle out of anything you try to pin on them. Kristoph is a grand master at doing this, quite possibly as good as they come in the AA universe.

Here’s the rub. Apollo brings up that Kristoph wants to avoid bringing the conversation into motives and state of mind questions, why? Because “it’s a battle he thinks he might lose”. Every single time this topic comes up, Kristoph deflects the question. This also is indicated by the five black Psychelocks that come up when Phoenix asks him point blank why he killed Zak. So from this we can gather that the game is drilling it in pretty well that Kristoph’s motivations are a sore spot for him and possibly the one chink in his armor.

Because the material evidence cannot prove anything for or against Kristoph’s guilt, in a typical case like this the police would hope for the holy grail - a full confession and admission of guilt. Kristoph is much too cool of a customer to fall into any traps, no doubt he was questioned very rigorously after being arrested, but all he even had to do was invoke his right to remain silent regarding his motives or simply claim that he killed Zak just ‘cause y’know, being evil is fun. Once he confessed to killing Zak, though, the police probably didn’t care all that much to probe into his thoughts and motivations really, if he did it, he did it and he’s going to spend a stint in jail either way.

Phoenix sees through this, however. In Solitary Cell 13 he does NOT allow Kristoph to drop or evade the question. That is why we get as far as even seeing the black Psychelocks at all. If we can’t know the motive, why bother to have this scene in the game?

Quite simply we can now understand that Kristoph’s motive for killing is something emotional. It is not something that he’s going to divulge casually, but it is also probably something that he is worried about divulging UNCONSCIOUSLY which is why he constantly tries to steer conversations away from it, instead deflecting to discuss the evidence or the emotional state of other people in the room. Consider that Kristoph’s reputation is PREDICATED on him being “the Coolest Defense in the West”. His identity is based on his successful suppression of emotions in court. This is not to say he shows no emotion or is some kind of monotone emotionless husk. He has a rather dry sense of humor. He banters with Apollo. He banters with Phoenix. He isn’t as uptight as some portrayals would have you believe (”life is to be taken easy”). When it comes to surface topics, Kristoph is an open book. He’s not as terse as you would believe, but rather kind of poetic and loquacious and conversational (to his downfall in 4-1). You get the feeling that he would be a very good conversationalist. But only for surface topics. Try to dig a little deeper and he will very neatly deflect your efforts. 

How can we hope to understand a character who by definition does not have any interest in talking about his innermost neuroses? The reason why people still discuss the Gavin brothers and Turnabout Succession so much is that, while a very satisfying and intense case, it is unlike a lot of other AA cases in that you come away from it with a LOT of open ended questions. You don’t feel the same feeling of closure as you would get from the DL-6 case, where it feels like you finally understand all the facts of the case and all of the character motivations come to light making you go “oh! THAT MAKES SENSE!” you understand why von karma killed gregory, and everything comes together nicely in the end. Turnabout Succession is kind of a rarity in that it does not do that. By the end, you feel like you clearly understand the case, but you do not have a crystal clear view of the root cause of the motivations behind it.

In Kristoph’s final testimony he does shed a little bit of light on his motivations for his crimes. The issue that he has is mainly centered around his dismissal by Zak Gramarye as his representation. And, his subsequent replacement with Phoenix Wright, an attorney he perceives to be low-class and sub-par. Kristoph then states “these men shamed me, and I could not forgive that.” This is as close to an answer as to why he went to such lengths to get Phoenix disbarred as we are likely to get. Disproportionate retribution is the name of the game. It seems as if, if there’s one thing Kristoph cannot tolerate, it’s being looked down upon by someone that he perceives as inferior to him. Kristoph has extremely polarized notions of who should get to practice law, who is acceptable and who is categorized under “ignorant swine soiling the courts”. He makes very, very clear that he has nothing but disdain for common people, common wisdom, and any use of emotion or feelings in deciding verdicts.

So the particular manner in which Phoenix sought to bring him down with the jury system was a very deliberate masterstroke to Kristoph’s pride. That much we can establish. But again, motive. The game goes out of its way to tell you that whomever defended Zak would be “famous beyond belief” and, presumably also, rich. They would get a lot of very high-profile clients and cases sent their way after successfully defending the uber-famous magician Zak Gramarye. 

Taking all of this into account, right. Is it possible that everything Kristoph did has its roots in one very simple source, the root of all evil?

Money.

Taking a step back for a moment, consider Klavier. Why does Klavier perform in a rock band? “Because I want Frauleins to look at me when I walk down the street.” I feel like people really want to believe that both Kristoph and Klavier are super deep characters and have all this deep lore and hidden backstory. Maybe they do. Most AA characters do. But consider this. What if they’re both so deep, they’re actually just shallow? Yes, that shallow?

Given how much AA:AJ focuses on the Gavins, which is really not that much, this concept seems difficult to swallow. Is there really more to the story based on what the game gives us? If there is, how would we piece it together?

One major hint the game gives you about Kristoph (and, if this is insignificant, then you have to really wonder why they bother to bring it up at all) takes place directly after seeing Kristoph’s black Psychelocks in Solitary Cell 13. He starts doing his nails. Phoenix says “I know appearances are a big thing with you”. Kristoph says “You know what I say? One cannot live a beautiful life without beautiful nails.”

I feel that this statement is important because it is probably about as deep of a look as we are ever going to get at how shallow Kristoph Gavin really is. He hopes you will believe that he’s playing 12-dimensional chess with some kind of fucked up backstory and motive going, but the truth is, he’s no chessmaster. Based on what the game gives you, there’s really only one motivation for everything that makes sense.

Kristoph killed Zak, Drew and attempted to kill Vera to cover his tracks. He had to do everything he could to make sure no one talked about the forgery. He had to stalk people like Spark and keep Phoenix very close (the epitome of keep your friends close keep your enemies closer). There’s nothing really debatable about those facts because they are all discussed in the game.

What about the root cause? Revenge, of course, for Phoenix stealing away the chance for Kristoph to defend Zak.

Why was defending Zak so important to Kristoph? To become rich and famous.

So wait. Why does Kristoph need to be rich and famous?

As it is, Kristoph appears to be very affluent and well off. There is no real reason directly given in the game as to why he would need such prestige and fame other than that it feeds his massive ego and superiority complex. So that’s a big part of it, no debate there.

But why would the excessive monetary gains that would be secured off of the Gramarye case be so appealing to Kristoph? We’ll re-examine this in a little bit.

In Daryan Crescend’s case, Phoenix tells Apollo “every man has an igniter. find his and set it off”. 

What is Kristoph’s igniter?

I mean some people would say Phoenix Wright is Kristoph’s igniter based on his breakdown. But, I think more of that trial was contrived by Phoenix than we tend to notice.

I think Klavier is Kristoph’s igniter.

The final trial in Turnabout Succession would not have been able to succeed without Lamiroir, without the jury system, without Phoenix pulling the strings, without Trucy, without Apollo, and most especially without Klavier. Removing any of these elements from the scenario would immediately give Kristoph a massive advantage in allowing him to manipulate the courtroom. Can you imagine Payne trying to prosecute Kristoph?

No. Klavier was the only one who could confront Kristoph successfully.

The final trial had to be contrived in such a way as to put maximal pressure on Kristoph to increase the chances that he would slip up or, more likely, that an element of randomness and/or emotion would become introduced. Phoenix sets up Klavier as the prosecutor for this trial for a good reason - remember, Phoenix tells Apollo point blank that he (Phoenix) is pulling all of the strings for the Misham trial, so whatever happens is entirely his responsibility.

It must have been difficult for Phoenix to entrust Klavier, the person who sealed his fate, with such an important task. But realistically, he didn’t really have a choice. Klavier’s disclosure of Kristoph’s visit to the prosecutor’s office is the glue that holds together the entire case against Kristoph Gavin. Notice that Kristoph never really does anything to keep Klavier out of the public eye or otherwise silence him (up until the very end at least). If I knew there was someone walking around giving press interviews and practicing as a prosecutor who knew something really incriminating about me, I would want them swept away or snuffed out asap - I mean, Kristoph has already poisoned Drew and Vera who were unlikely to tattle on him at best; Drew couldn’t even identify him! What Klavier has on him is much, much more damning dirt. Either Kristoph really loves and trusts his brother or is convinced that he can control Klavier to the point where Klavier would never dare tell anyone about that visit or wouldn’t want to. Probably both are true.

The interesting thing about this dynamic is that this is really the only time where we see both Gavin brothers together in one room, as well. Something about being in proximity changes both of their behaviors. Klavier becomes hyper-alert and nervous in Kristoph’s presence, a marked change from his usually easy demeanor. Klavier’s presence causes Kristoph to make several mistakes, which end up costing him the case.

So all of these things needed to happen, and they needed to happen simultaneously for Phoenix to succeed. Getting back to my theory on Kristoph, we can see from what’s said in the game a few things - he really, REALLY wanted to be the one to benefit from defending Zak Gramarye (a trial he knew he would win against his brother using forged evidence), the presence of Klavier is his undoing in court, and his appearances are very, very important to him. 

I honestly think the real reason Kristoph was so salty about losing out on the Gramarye trial fame and money is that he didn’t just want to be affluent or well-to-do. He wanted to be excessively, filthy rich.

If you look at Solitary Cell 13 you will see that Kristoph likes very much to surround himself with many nice things. He likes tasteful decorations and furniture. He enjoys literature, music, art, that weird rose he keeps in a vase, and he has a dog named Vongole. “First rate in all things, accept nothing less.”

To have such top of the line items, Kristoph must not only be rich, he must be like top 1% rich. He has to have the absolute best of everything. This is why he needs money. Without these things, what separates him from the ignorant swine he so despises? This is why Kristoph needed money.

Nowhere is this highlighted more than with the Ariadoney nail polish. I think it’s mentioned a couple of times that the Ariadoney is absolutely the best possible nail polish that you can buy. It’s very, very expensive and is manufactured in extremely limited quantities (this is discussed during Kristoph’s testimony). If Kristoph is this fixated on something as simple as a bottle of nail polish, you can almost imagine the absolutely ludicrous costs of every other item that he uses or owns, not limited to his home, his car, fine foods and wine, his expensive hobbies, possibly traveling etc etc etc etc. I just know this fool shops at Whole Foods, because I can’t see him buying groceries at the Costco. It makes a lot of sense as to why he is single as well. Kristoph Gavin would end up being an expensive habit to any partner who would have him - I wouldn’t want to share a bank account or credit line with him. He needs Gucci to keep him happy. No bootlegs here.

Point is, Kristoph Gavin has an addiction to the finer things in life and he will NOT settle for second rate products. He will have what he wants and he will do basically anything to maintain his lifestyle at its current elite level at the expense of his own morality and soul. Sadly enough I feel like that might be as deep as it gets with him. That’s a really pathetic motive to have and makes me hate him a lot more, but it’s so fucked up I can’t look away.

Consider also the most important thing to Kristoph of all - his appearance. It costs money to keep yourself up and this seems to be the one area that Kristoph might end up pouring the most money into. The top of the line suit, the white shoes, the perfect tan, the platinum blonde hair so immaculately coiffed, the fact that his skin is virtually perfect and the fact that his face is near-identical to Klavier’s despite being some 8 or 9 years older. Most normal people would have some kind of facial imperfection pop up at some point, a wrinkle, a pock mark, something. And that’s when you realize... that Kristoph Gavin has most likely had work done. Like, on his face to make it stay youthful. He’s just that vain and probably also despises watching Klavier stay young and pretty while he’s just aging. Fillers? Botox? Collagen treaments? Something more invasive? No one knows, but all I’m saying is that Klavier’s character description goes out of its way to describe Klavier as “the spitting image of Kristoph Gavin”. Vera notices the extreme resemblance right away. There can certainly be genetic basis for two brothers looking alike, but compare that to how Mia and Maya look “alike”, or Lana and Ema, both of whom have a similar age gap to Kristoph and Klavier. You would realize that Kristoph and Klavier seem to have somewhat of a more obvious resemblance despite the age difference. So this isn’t just possible anymore, this is actually likely. I don’t think the game implies that Kristoph has undergone plastic surgery or anything, so I’m keeping this in the realms of headcanon for now. But it would make perfect sense as yet another reason as to why Kristoph Gavin needs cold cash. He needs to look flawless and he needs access to the absolutely most top of the line treatments and practitioners, continually. And as he continues to age, he needs to get more and more aggressive, more and more products, more and more retouching with those age reversal creams and foundations and stabilizers. That adds up, cost-wise, very very fast, especially if you want top of the line EVERYTHING, and Kristoph does indeed. It is very clear that settling for any less would be completely unacceptable to him.

All of this money, it has to come from somewhere. Being a posh defense lawyer will bring in some money, sure, but nothing near what Kristoph is going to need to live his beautiful life. Winning the Gramarye trial would have probably bought him enough prestige, clients and monetary gains to support himself off of law for the rest of his life. It does make a lot of sense that he would be incensed after losing that chance.

There is one more unexplored possibility as to why Kristoph had to be the one to win the Gramarye trial, though, and it ties into the money issue as well. This was supposed to be a fair match, after all, brother to brother. Klavier’s first case, in fact. It was supposed to be Kristoph vs. Klavier, and Kristoph wanted to make sure that he would be the one to win. Only Zak and Phoenix ruined that chance - a once in a lifetime chance, actually, for Kristoph to go up against his brother on Klavier’s very first day.

Klavier was the prosecutor of the Gramarye trial. It was his very first case. What could Kristoph have to gain by being the one to trounce 17-year-old Klavier in court on his first day on the job?

Well, not much, other than it would have been a huge crushing blow to Klavier psychologically.

There’s a comic floating around by someone, I think zarla-s, where Kristoph wins the Gramarye trial and is discussing his win with Klavier afterwards. Kristoph is smug and hopes Klavier will be humbled by his impressive win, but Klavier is unperturbed by his loss, happy for his brother and insists he’ll win next time.

As cute as this is, somehow I don’t think that’s exactly how it would go down.

Klavier has actively shown how nervous / anxious / upset Kristoph’s mere presence makes him in a courtroom setting. Based on this, it’s not unfair to say that losing to Kristoph IN PARTICULAR on Klavier’s very first case would have been a devastating psychological blow that could technically end Klavier’s prosecutor career before it even began. There is a lot on the line with the Gramarye trial, don’t forget the praise and adulation that Klavier gained by winning it. So other than all of the fame, adulation, money and pride Kristoph would have gained by rigging and winning the Gramarye trial, there is another dimension that he was also robbed of - the ability to ruin his brother’s law career. Losing to another attorney like Phoenix or anyone else would not be enough to do the job. It would have to and could only be Kristoph’s doing.

What reason could Kristoph have for wanting Klavier’s law career to come to an end?

Well, Klavier does have another job. As a rock star.

Wildly popular rock stars make a lot of money, many many many times more than even a celebrity defense attorney could dream to make.

The Gavinners had multiple albums go platinum. They sold out shows all over the country, I believe, possibly all over the world. They are a brand. They are profitable. Klavier is profitable.

With how much Kristoph depends on and uses Klavier, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Kristoph gets to take a big cut of Klavier’s earnings from his music career. For all we know, Kristoph could have been responsible for assembling and filing many of the Gavinners’ early contracts and legal paperwork. The rights to songs, record deals, merchandising - this is a lot of stuff. I’d say it’d be pretty hard to believe that Kristoph did not have his hooks into the Gavinners from day one. If he handled contracts, he could have written in loopholes that would give him a huge cut of any earnings resulting from Klavier’s band, the Gavinners.

Now I know what you’re thinking, Klavier himself is a legal prodigy. He could have easily read through anything Kristoph prepared and refused to sign on the dotted line if he found anything amiss or hidden in the fine print. What if Kristoph’s legal control of Klavier started much earlier than that? Depending on when Klavier started in the entertainment business, which could have been a very early age, Kristoph could have had plenty of time and opportunity to secure access to any of Klavier’s future earnings, especially if their parents were out of the picture.

 If you think Kristoph has nothing to do with the Gavinners, think about it. One of their songs is literally called “Atroquinine, My Love”. They are a brand. They are marketed specifically to teeny boppers. They’re not squeaky clean mainstream pop like the Jonas Brothers or anything, but they are marketable. The advertising, the way they dress, the way Klavier says he’s tired of the youthful angst scene, the fact that Klavier only gives Apollo and Trucy a 20% discount on concert tickets. I’m just saying a lot of it could end up being contrived, perhaps by a certain someone with an ulterior motive. It seems really, really weird and coincidental that the band broke up right after AA4 too. Klavier seems like he’s really dedicated to his art, and to music. This much is clear in the way he reverently talks about Lamiroir, how he teared up at her song, even the Guitars’ Serenade seems like a very different song than what the Gavinners would typically do, and it only debuts after Kristoph is already in jail.

It makes you wonder if there might be a little something more going on here. If Kristoph had it set up to where he could get access to Klavier’s assets, which almost certainly dwarf his own by several times, then he had every reason to want to crush Klavier in court. He had to be the one to face Klavier in the Gramarye trial and win, causing Klavier to end his prosecutor dreams - and do what?

Go back on the road, put everything into his music career and become a workhorse for Kristoph’s ambitions.

Putting Klavier full time on the Gavinners would have solved all of Kristoph’s monetary worries for good. He could skim everything off the top and finally live the beautiful life of his dreams, the life he needed to have and couldn’t do without. Most importantly, he could keep up appearances and always look continually young and attractive.

Until we learn otherwise, I think that that is really all that was behind Kristoph’s black Psychelocks. Just a narcissistic, vain, preening loser masquerading as some mastermind villain when, in the end, that’s not really what he cared about being. He cared about painting his nails in a luxurious mansion surrounded by piles of money in a big Scrooge McDuck money vault, and laughing maniacally at anyone who ever thought that there was anything more to it.

[pollenat]

NU’EST and 5 ways to say I love you

➛ Requested by a super sweet anon!

ARON

The night outside. You’re watching the dark sky through a window of his car. Aron’s hand rests next to your thigh, palm leaning against the knob of gear shift. He hums along with the radio, eyes gazing at you every now and then. You only act oblivious. There’s a wandering thought that perhaps he wants to say something and though you wait, he never does, just stares. As if enchanted, but by what exactly, you cannot figure out.

A bite on your cheek. It takes you by surprise, freezing in place, because who would even think to do so? Surely not Aaron? And yet, he’s the one visible in your peripheral vision. Absurd. He’s not the one to do things as drastic, even in the privacy of his own four walls. The pain doesn’t strike you, but the tickling in your throat, an effect of holding back laughter, does turn more unbearable with each passing second. Until you can’t keep it locked any longer, and the force pulls you out of Aaron’s already weak hold.

Running a few meters to catch up to him. Aaron didn’t stop along with you, but you quickly realize it wasn’t on purpose. As your hand grabs his elbow, he turns to watch you with innocent curiosity. He doesn’t mention the moment. And though you want to scold him - leaving your s/o behind is a no joking matter - the expression on his face makes you drop the topic. Aaron continues chattering about his day, so you listen, holding onto his arm just in case he doesn’t notice your departure next time.

Awkward glances. Aaron knows it’s not right, or at least how it should be, but he’s too confused to put thoughts into words. You, on the other hand, know he wants the best, which should be enough. The key word being should. When you’re brave enough, you return one of the stares. His first instinct is to retract, but just a look away has him thinking that perhaps it’s not the best course of action. Without a second glance, he reaches forward, to open the space by his side, just in case you decide you need it.

The lack of him in general. Neither your phone, nor your senses are graced by his presence. It’s as if he has never existed, and you’re close to believing that yes, indeed, he’s just a product of your vivid imagination. That he’s someone you’ve once dreamed about, or just a silhouette from family pictures, whose face is known, but ghostly. Days pass with you suffering from a heartache and that’s all he is - a ghost.

JR

Irritating pain in your eyes. The hour is late. The day’s effect is catching up to you. It’s too difficult to keep your eyes open. Jonghyun says something, but your clouded mind doesn’t catch a word. When you ask him to repeat, he just releases a good-natured laugh, as if your tragic state was a laughing matter. It’s his fault, after all. He’s the person responsible for keeping you awake past midnight. And even his adorable reaction to your sleepiness won’t correct his wrongdoings.

Holding his baseball cap, stunned that it’s the only thing of his you have that still smells of him. It’s weird to take comfort in something so... uncommon, but you’re too desperate at this point. The painful knowledge of him being away has you resorting to the strangest. Before the cap, you clung to his favorite yogurt. Before it, there was the shampoo he always uses. And though nothing has lasting effect, the moment of breathing in a familiar smell clears your head. Just a few seconds, but painless seconds.

Fingertips on your closed eyelids. Pressure on the lashes. Breath on your cheek. Coldness by your legs. Skin skimming against skin, only to disappear in a second. The hour must be late. A little concerned, you finally open your eyes. Jonghyun sighs in surprise. Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s frozen in his spot. Guilt strikes his features. He’s sure his carelessness woke you up. But who would be mad at the sweetest guy alive? If he can’t sleep, then so can’t you. That’s the verdict.

Small words of appreciation, you didn’t realize you needed. They always take you by surprise. One would think them an ambush, meant to bring Jonghyun a gift in the form of your embarrassed smile. But just a mention of his possible hidden intentions makes his face harden. How can you assume such vile things about his motives? All the compliments are genuine! Your embarrassment is just a bonus!

Being avoided. Though you lean forward to embrace him, Jonghyun turns away. His face is unreadable, empty. Your hands manage to lock around his waist in time, but they’re obviously unwelcome there. As if you were a virus, you’re rejected. Jonghyun stands stiff in your weak hold, wordless and emotionless. It hurts. It really hurts. You’re left with no other option, but to let him go. What he wants at the moment is not you. The only right course of action is to accept it.

BAEKHO

The plush of his lips on the back of your neck. It’s in a way restless - Dongho shows no sign of wanting to stop. His legs are settled around your hips, locking you in the embrace. There are things you should be doing instead of letting him lull you into sweet comfort, but he’s never once backed from an ambush. You may be trying to work, yet you do want him to take your mind off of the stress as well.

His silence. Mouth occupied by pancakes, Dongho doesn’t speak. Every then and now he just graces you with small noises of content. Their appearance is a spark of electricity, opening your mouth in a smile. Though your work doesn’t end at making him comfort food, the progress in lifting his spirits is still a success that should be celebrated. And so, you gift yourself with the continuation of staring at Dongho’s passionate eating habits. He’s too taken by the pancakes to notice it.

Fingernails scratching stitches on your jeans. He’s nervous, this much is obvious. The empty look on his face tells you that the thoughts have taken Dongho miles away, and none of your words will be registered by his mind. The scratching turns weaker for a moment as he glances at the clock. Its ticking seems to irritate him only more. Finally, you cover his hand with your own and Dongho smiles a little. You presence alone won’t save him, but it does give him a little bit of warmth and assurance, that at the end of the day, he’s not alone.

A little yelp of excitement, so inaccurate for a man built like Dongho. Though he’s more of a big bad wolf appearance-wise, his smiling face reminds you of a baby. He dances around the room, eyes bright and happy. None of the questioning looks you shoot his way are enough to grant you an answer. Dongho ignores your stares, until he finally grabs your hands to pull you along. For a long time he doesn’t explain what the hell is going on, but when he’s acting like that, you cannot just stop him. The questions have to wait.

How his fists tighten when he’s mad. Dongho doesn’t think about hiding them, he’s too taken by the all-consuming anger. It’s a normal thing to get frustrated, but somehow, seeing him mad is... different? You’re not used to the paling insides of his fingers, an effect of limited blood flow. You know he won’t do anything, it’s just his way of offloading, and yet, somewhere deep in your mind, you’re scared. Terrified, but of the possibility it will stay this way between you and him.

MINHYUN

Reaching for his hand when the moment feels vile. Minhyun, though not a fan of publicly displayed affection, doesn’t take his fingers away. They interlock with yours, grip quick to tighten in a comforting manner. The world instantly seems a little bit more bearable. As soon as you turn to look at him, Minhyun’s gaze meets yours. There’s a question whether you’re fine. Not wanting to have him worried any longer, you nod yes. With him, you’ll be fine.

The coldness of an ice pack. Your momentary lack of focus costed you pain and tears. Now Minhyun, taking the role of a house nurse, stands behind you, holding a bundle of ice cubes and using the moment to scold you. Because how dare you hurt yourself when he’s just a few steps away? How dare you not give him a chance to save you from the dangers of living? How dare you roll your eyes when he’s teaching you an important lesson of self-preservation? And don’t even think about whining at the coldness, it’s meant to freeze!

A laptop you have completely forgotten. Though Minhyun’s attention is all on you and he’s reaching lower your back, the sound of crashing electronics forces you apart. You take a look at his swollen lips before turning to search for the source of all commotion. Minhyun’s hands fall on your thighs, still not ready to let go completely. He doesn’t seem concerned about the noise. If anything, it’s the growing distance between the two of you that he’s wary of. When you sheepishly tell him that it’s his laptop that fell, he just grunts and then pulls you back.

Washing your hands when he encircles you from behind. Minhyun’s head rests on your shoulder, meanwhile his fingers cover yours under the stream of running water. He doesn’t speak. There’s no need, you know he expects you to wash his hands as well. It’s a little thing you have a habit of spoiling him with. As you silently comply, Minhyun laughs, chest trembling against your back. Though you can’t see, you can feel his gaze on your profile.

A heavy gaze. One that pushes you down, until you’re flat against the ground, trembling in fear, because you’re its object. Minhyun won’t say a word, but he watches, as if he was feeding on your terror. But how can someone be vicious enough to put a boot on your lungs and remain silent, indifferent to the tortures they’re putting you through? Of course, he’s awaiting a grand apology, but even tired, breathless from the anger olympics, you don’t want to relent. Not when he’s not free of his own wrongdoings.

REN

The stark shape of his nose, digging itself into your cheek. Minki is trying to get a reaction out of you, but while doing so, he only causes you a meltdown inside. Instead of a grimace, he’s rewarded with a sweet smile. Minki wants to push your buttons more, the soul of a troublemaker is chewing his ear off, and yet he gives up. It doesn’t go past your attention - his defeated, but genuine smile is a sight to behold.

Delicate skin you are allowed to touch. Minki’s facing away from you, either moaning or whining, depending on what nerve you’re currently crunching. Few times he tries to swat your hands away, but you’re not that easily scared by his threats. They can’t be serious. When he makes a sarcastic comment about your great massage techniques, you act dumb and dig where it hurts him. Minki scowls, but gives up, promising he won’t open his mouth again. A few minutes is how long he can go without uttering a word.

The moment he forgets himself in the feeling of being close. Minki’s hot breath is blowing at your lips, and though you anticipate a kiss, it’s never placed. It’s as if some greater being has stopped the time for him, imprisoning Minki in the pose. Having him so close is heavenly, but just as happy as you are, the need to laugh overpowers. His eyes open at the sound, surprised. Once again, he returns to the body of a born teaser.

A pair of gloves, thrown at you seemingly out of annoyance. At least that’s what’s written on Minki’s face. Annoyance, because you’re forgetful enough to hurt yourself in the cold season. Stiff fingers have trouble putting the material on. You hesitate. Is it really okay for you take the gloves? Minki gave you them himself, but sometimes we hurt ourselves for others. It’s a reminder that he cares a lot, no matter how much of trouble he’s brought you. Or how deep is the frown on his features.

The face of disinterest. You hate it with burning passion. It’s his way of telling you that things aren’t alright between the two of you. That he feels distaste, as if he was staring at a plate of mold. Minki’s words are cold, pulled straight out of freezing temperatures. They make your back stiffen, eyes glaze over, hands tighten their grip. You want to disappear, melt away and seep through the ground to mix with the depths. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to suffer at the hands of his indifferent facial expression.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[bottomcasbigbang]

Here you can read all the stories of our second round and check out the artwork our participants have created! Thank you to everyone who was a part of this, be it as a writer, author, beta, reader, cheerleader or helping hand! Thank you so much everyone and we hope we’ll see you back for the next round! ♥

Without further ado, the BCBB 2019/2020 creations:

Wayward Sons by Substiel (Explicit, 29k)

Illustrated by bees0are0awesome

It's the year 1919 and the Wayward Sons are the most powerful criminal organization in the country. It's ruled by Dean Winchester who bares the Mark of Cain. A curse given to him when Mary Winchester made a deal with the Devil to save her dying son. Dean was always a cold blood killer who did everything for business, and he never let anyone into his heart. He didn't dare let himself get too close to someone. That was until the Roadhouse hired a new bartender.

Castiel always admired Dean from afar for helping the lower class have a voice. For some reason, the bartender knows how to get under Dean's skin. There was something different about him which led to the beginning of their newfound relationship. Two broken souls finding each other in the middle.

Archive Warning: Graphic Depiction of Violence

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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My Bloody Luck by TaymeeLove (Mature, 16k)

Illustrated by Kamicom

Castiel was a struggling actor who never had luck on his side in life or his relationships. He met with an accident and his life was never the same after. Will his luck in relationships turn around this time?

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Metanoia by adestielable (Explicit, 24k)

Illustrated by Noavice

Castiel’s existence has been nothing but pain, humiliation, and degradation. He’s an omega in a world where omegas are objects for an alpha’s enjoyment.

After a brutal assault on his nineteenth birthday, Castiel began entering into beastie fights—matches where instead of people going head to head, bio and mechanically engineered beasts fight to the death. And in Castiel’s months of fights, he’s not lost once.

It’s after one of these fights where Castiel meets Dean, his supposed true mate. Castiel hates alphas, and has vowed never to let one into his life because all alphas do is inflict pain. Yet…Dean is different. And Castiel finds he can’t help being drawn to him.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Profound Kisses by BENKA79 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by Gio (sketching-fox)

Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Sparks by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by VampyRosa

Omega Cas meets Alpha Dean during one of the worst weeks of his life. Sparks fly when they realize they're truemates. But after a wild and intense night that ends with both of them sporting new mating bites, could a simple misunderstanding tear the new couple apart before they even have a chance to begin?

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Lesson Number 1: Monsters are Real by blueye22 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by kuwlshadow

When Anael "Jo" Novak goes missing during a hike in the mountains with her boyfriend, worried brother, Castiel, goes in search of her. Castiel is surprised to receive the help of FBI agents, Dean and Sam. But what are they hiding?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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You At the End of the Rail by spnsmile (Explicit, 30k)

Illustrated by verobatto-angelxhunter

Dean receives a text message from a new human Cas telling him of his suspicion that angels have found him in Gas n Sip. Still filled with guilt for kicking the ex-angel out of the Bunker, Dean steps up to make it up to his friend. Worried, Dean concludes the ex-angel has to disappear for many days so he asks Cas where he wants to go.

Cas’ answer?

Trains.

Fucking trains.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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On Your Knees by raths_kitten (Explicit, 14k)

Illustrated by angeltortured

When Dean gets the assignment to follow the Fallen Angels on tour and write a feature article on them, he isn‘t their biggest fan. But that quickly changes when he hears them play live - and meets their charismatic lead singer Castiel in person.

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Just Like in the Movies by noxsoulmate (Explicit, 46k)

Illustrated by lotrspnfangirl

In a world where a new mark appears whenever you fall in love, Hollywood sweetheart, Castiel James, is known for his unblemished skin. Oh, he has the faint shadows of old crushes and childish infatuations, but no mark is that of something deep and true. No mark has ever stuck, no mark has ever become more than a hazy outline. Because Cas, well... Cas has never been in love.

The skin of bookshop owner Dean Winchester, however, tells another tale entirely. Dean loves freely, quickly, and deeply. He loves his family, he loves his friends, he still cares for his exes. While the first two don’t show on his skin, the latter do. All brushed over his body in various shapes and forms and colors. Of varying clarity. But even Dean has yet to get that one mark. That mark that sticks. The mark that is so deep, and so sharp, and so clear, it can only be that of a profound bond.

These two men share a common hope; a common desire. That one day, they might have a mark that means they have found a love that is as deep and true as love can be - just like in the movies.

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Granted by Andromache_42 (Explicit, 20k)

Illustrated by agusvedder

At forty-one, Dr. Castiel Novak is the proud recipient of a generous grant to fund his project on sustainability and urban farming from the Campbell Foundation, a small investing firm based out of Chicago. The night before he meets the award committee, lonely and pushed by his friend Balthazar, Castiel has the best sex of his life during a casual Grindr hook-up with “just-visiting” forty-seven-year-old Dean. Castiel’s life appears to be coming together, until he discovers that Dean is the head of the grant award committee. For the sake of professionalism, Castiel is willing to ignore the intense attraction between the two of them, but Dean turns out to be too tempting to resist.

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Finding Bigfoot by Desirae (Explicit, 22k)

Illustrated by Tamapochi

“Don’t be such a worrywart. It’s vacation time. Campfires, fishing, beer. What’s better than that?”

“Apparently a sasquatch sighting?” Castiel snarked, with an arched brow.

“Well, yeah. I mean, Sam’s a good substitute, but it’d be nice to see the real thing,” Dean grinned.

Finding Bigfoot wasn't exactly on the itinerary when Dean, Cas, and Sam planned their annual boys-only camping trip, but with his brother in a noticeable funk, Dean was prepared to do what he had to do. Even if it meant keeping quiet about a long-waited love confession from his best friend.

Determined to stay focused on distracting Sam from his troubles, and not make him feel like a third wheel, Dean and Castiel decide to keep their new relationship status to themselves, until after vacation is over.

After years of mutual pining, that shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Meet me at Sunset by Suus_Arido (Mature, 55k)

Illustrated by celstese

Ever since the Barrier of Melaina fell and plunged the worlds of men, monsters and magic together, the Republic Elohim has kept its citizens save with help from the hunter organization the Red Circle.

Dean Winchester has never known how the world looked before the fall of the barrier. He and his family have been part of the Red Circle for generations and he knew it was his faith to die in battle. All he is supposed to want is to protect the innocents from darkness. But how can he when his soul is dark and corrupt?

As the monsters start to adapt and become more intelligent, the rise of chaos is not far behind. It’s midst this chaos that Dean meets a human with the name of an angel. Not only does this man believe in the salvation of the world but he also seems to believe that Dean is redeemable as well.

A love story may perhaps develop but Dean knows better, for it is known that the faith of a hunter is tragedy. Will Dean be able to make the right call? Even when blue eyes turn unrecognizable?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Beyond Borders by xHaruka17x (Explicit, 53k)

Illustrated by Diminuel

Sometimes doing what is right, what feels right, doesn't mean you’ll escape the consequences of those actions. Dean Winchester is the Head Alpha of one of the largest packs of the Western Hemisphere. He is days away from being a married and mated Alpha, ready for the next chapter in his life to commence, only for a horrific accident to change everything. Adam, Dean and Sam's little brother, is killed in a car accident across the globe in Russia. Dean finds out his little brother's now widowed Omega is all alone and pregnant, left to the mercy of his horrible home pack. Dean makes a decision and he knows things will explode when he gets back home, but he knows in his heart it’s the right thing to do.

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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The Cleric's Birthright by Scribo_Vivere (Explicit, 34k)

Illustrated by yoyo-deano

Castiel Novak lost his husband and the love of his life, Balthazar, three years ago in a slaying no one has been able to solve. Burying himself in his work at the university as a leading anthropology professor there, he attempts to put the past behind him. When vicious murders begin to plague him in an eerie replication of Balthazar’s death, Castiel decides to find out on his own what sort of evil has descended upon them all. But the answers he’s looking for may not be so easily found, and the revelation forced upon him could destroy everything he knows - about himself, his world, and the faith he once held so dear. Complicating things is his new relationship with Dean Winchester, who may or may not be what he appears. Why is Castiel inexplicably drawn to him like a moth to the flame?

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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To Soar Without Grace by QuillsAndInk (Explicit)

Castiel is an alpha and a cleric serving the gods of his kingdom and wielding their power in preparation to join a holy war. When he gets taken by the heretical high prince of a rival kingdom, Castiel knows his fate is sealed. That is, until prince Dean tries to persuade him to take on a mad quest to kill his father and end the holy war. With heretical magic Castiel can’t understand forcing him away from the gods he’s always served, Castiel joins Dean. But in the mountain wilderness in the dead of winter with only his sworn enemy for company, can Dean and Castiel get past their differences or will the war swallow them up.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

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Cow Bells and Snow Globes by Pimento (Explicit)

It really doesn't matter what the gossip columns say. Dean knows the International Ski Champion Castiel Novak, aka, Casanova of the Slopes is actually just Cas. Loyal, kind, caring Cas. The same Cas he's absolutely not had a crush on since they were teenagers on the competitive circuit.

He's had two plus decade's practice at hiding his feelings, how difficult can it be to suppress them a little longer.

They just so happen to be in the same ski resort, at the same time for an entire season, so Dean is damn well gonna enjoy having his friend back in his life for a while and not screw it up. The fact that he seems to have the magic touch with the grumpy teenage daughter that Cas is trying so desperately to reconnect with is just an opportunity to ease his friends' troubles while he finds his feet again.

Art Masterpost / Fic Masterpost

[fortune-fool02]

More than a Machine

Android Jonathan Joestar x Robert E.O Speedwagon

This was inspired by the Android AU that @lyssors helped support! Thank you again for that! 

Android/ DBH AU 

Please enjoy. 

2038. In this day and age, humans were no longer the peak of perfection. That spot belonged to the human's greatest creations: Artificial Intelligence, Androids. The perfect being. Never tire. Never blinded by emotion. Perfectly obedient to any and all given commands. Unable to talk back. Every flaw that humans had were removed from them. Emotionless. Indifferent. Obedient. Perfect. Just because they looked human, it did not make them human, as many believed.

But that all began to change. Slowly, like a tiny strand in the genetic chain of evolution, the androids began to change. Thinking for themselves, questioning their owners and some even disobeying completely. Many feared this, no longer trusting their own androids and even becoming hostile towards them if they felt unsafe. While many treated them as items and objects, things to be replaced and thrown away once they grew bored of it or the newest model came out, there were those who did no such thing. Instead, they treated them as more than items and objects, treating them as individual beings with their own thoughts and feelings, like humans.

Robert Speedwagon was one of those people. He knew what it was like to be shoved about and treated like the lowest scum on Earth. He has had his fair share of fights -as resulted by the many scars on his body and the countless nights of patching himself up or having a friend do it for him- but he would never hurt someone who didn't deserve it. While he may be a thug, he was not a horrible person to those who knew him. Though, with the decline in jobs due to the androids taking their place was more than a kick in the knees for people like him who were forced to resort to stealing just to make some money. And yes, he couldn't deny he had some form of bitterness towards the androids but it remained at that.

But that changed when he found an android slumped against the wall, blue blood leaking from an open 'wound' on its chest where its regulator was. The dim glow on the LED light told him it was damaged but still working. Seeing as no one was around, he took it to his place thinking he could salvage some parts to sell or sell it as a whole.

He muttered to himself as he opened the android's chest and examined it a bit. He had a bit of knowledge of android repairs and whatnot, and noticed the two disconnected wires -likely done so during the damage- and reconnected them. A sharp gasp left the android as he sat upright, the LED light flashing blue as his eyes darted around, scanning his environment as his systems rebooted and came back online. 

Speedwagon tried to calm the android down. The blue-haired android calmed, his scanners confirming he was safe and all his systems were running smoothly again. Once he had calmed and gathered himself, the android introduced himself as Jonathan, a JJ-180 model; the model was a rare prototype given to Lord George Joestar as a gift, the model was one of a kind.

As he is programmed, Jonathan was nothing sort of a gentleman to Speedwagon, thanking him for fixing him and helping him, which did surprise the blonde human. Well, seeing as this model was a prototype and belonged to a Lord, he was easily worth a lot of money and not to mention he was very easy on the eyes. No human could be as well built and beautiful as Jonathan. But now there was the dilemma: What to do? Reset the android and sell it off? Keep it? What to do? Well, with him still somewhat damaged, Speedwagon thought it best to keep hold of him until someone came looking for him.

And that was how Speedwagon ended up with an android despite having little money to his name.

Jonathan was, surprisingly, a caring android despite being programmed for a Lord and acted more of a carer than anything; kind and warm, gentle and soft despite his large build, to be honest, there were a handful of moments where Speedwagon had forgotten Jonathan was an android until he noticed the LED light on the side of his head again. It was known that some androids were programmed to 'care' with their operation systems but none seemed to match the way Jonathan showed this.

It was mostly thanks to Lord Joestar who had treated him as a son rather than an android. He would thank Jonathan if he completed a job, he took the android's condition into consideration and whenever there were guests, he asked them to treat Jonathan with respect. But there were occasions where he came back home with dirt and slightly torn clothes from people pushing him around because he was an android.

Accessing Memory File. March 3rd 2038. 10:51am....

Jonathan sat across from George, the man's cane resting beside them as he threaded the needle through the rip one final time, sealing it fully and pulling the thread away. He grabbed the pair of scissors beside him and snipped the thread.

"There. Good as new." He spoke, setting the tools aside and holding the jumper up. Jonathan smiled at it and took it from him, slipping it back on.

"Thank you, George." The jumper had been a gift from George so Jonathan didn't have to wear the uniform all the time. Even though Jonathan stated he didn't require clothing, George insisted, telling him that he didn't need a servant. Jonathan was confused at this but he continued with the duties given to him. George smiled at him,

"JoJo, you know I am not going to be around forever. Humans are not like machines, we're fragile. We break down and eventually, we die." Jonathan turned his head and looked at George at this, his scanners quickly analysing George's condition. He did have a few medical conditions but nothing that posed a high fatality rate.  "I want you to be safe when I'm no longer here."

"George, I'm afraid I don't...quite understand what you mean." George smiled lightly at this and placed his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, patting it lightly.

"I am going to leave everything in my possession to you when I pass." Jonathan looked at him, flecks of confusion on his face at this. Everything was being inherited to him?

"But George, your inheritance should go to your next of kin or related family." That was how it went, everyone knew that. Though he simply smiled at the blue-haired android.

"Jonathan, you are my son. And that won't change because we have different coloured blood." His words weren't hollow nor false, Jonathan was his son regardless of their differences and he would proudly defend him if the situation arose. Jonathan felt himself smile at this.

"Hey, JoJo, you alright?" Speedwagon's voice pulled him from his memory file, bringing him back to the present moment, "You zoned out there for a minute." Jonathan looked over and smiled a bit,

"Yes, I'm fine, Speedwagon." He responded and continued with the task he had given himself. It had been a few weeks since Speedwagon had found him and he just couldn't bring himself to rest the android or sell him off, it just felt wrong to do so. Plus, he was amazing company. During his time there, Jonathan had noticed a similar pattern between Speedwagon and George: They both treated him like a human. But what did that mean?

George treated Jonathan like a human because he viewed him as a son, but what did Speedwagon view him as? Friend? Ally? After finishing his task, Jonathan moved and stood aside, awaiting another command.

"Speedwagon, may I ask you something?" He asked, looking at the blonde man as he read the newspaper.

"Yeah, sure. What is it?" He set the newspaper aside, showing the android he had his full attention.

"Why do you treat me like a human?" Confusion painted Speedwagon's face at this, his head titling lightly as he thought.

"Well, it's just you're so....human-like. You look human, sound human and on occasions, act human too."

That caught Jonathan's curiosity. He acted human? How can one act like something they aren't? His thoughts jumbled a bit, trying to figure out what that meant.

"How though? How can I be human if I am an android? A machine?" That was what he was though. Mechanical mechanisms composed together and dressed up to mimic human appearance and speech. The blue LED flashed yellow, circling as he tried to process it.

"JoJo, just because you're one thing it doesn't make you unable to be something else. Look at me, I'm a thug but I'm not a jackass like others are."  He had come clean to Jonathan about his past and the things he has done and yet the android didn't see him any different as the kind man who reactivated him and repaired him. That was what Speedwagon was trying to get through to him.

"But-"

"No buts. Yes, you're an android but you're also whatever you wish to be. You're an intelligent being with thoughts and knowledge, you care. That's what makes you who you are, JoJo." He took in the answer and processed it, "You're not just a machine, JoJo."

He repeated those words in his mind over and over again, breaking it down and analysing it further. It was similar to what George would tell him but there was something else in there. Something he couldn't quite define. Slowly, Speedwagon's hand moved towards his, their fingers gently brushing against one another. His touch was warm, while Jonathan's was cool with a smooth texture. It felt...nice.  The blue-haired android watched, a mix of curiosity and wonder in his eyes as their hands moved closer to each other, pressing their palms against each others. The skin on his hand fading away to reveal the smooth, snow-white colour beneath that every android had, the pale blue lights glowing more than they should.

Speedwagon seemed just as fascinated at this as Jonathan was, a warmth softly bloomed within him as he watched the android slowly lower his fingers between his, interlocking them together. Something about this felt right in a way neither of them understood. How their hands seemed to fit perfectly together like two pieces in a puzzle. The odd warmth that seemed to spark and bloom from this simple touch.

Perhaps...they were not so different after all? Maybe he truly was more than just a machine.  

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Hurt.

John Wick x Reader (A/n- I know, the assassin/ hitwoman reader type is getting old over here, but forgive me and let me have this one, I promise I’ll try to change the model at some point.)

An inch deep bleeding stab wound right under his ribs, a couple bullets lodged in his shoulder, and an uncountable amount of tiny cuts on every visible surface of skin. None of it was fatal, but he was bleeding so fast that he was beginning to think otherwise. His cheek was warm and wet with dripping blood, John couldn’t even remember how he had gotten that one. It had all happened so quickly, a couple burly henchmen had somehow turned into a dozen. And that wasn’t counting his very able bodied target. Of course, he was John Wick, he had gotten the job done, but had walked out of the seemingly inconspicuous warehouse feeling worse than he’d like to admit. 

Every thing hurt, down to the joints in his fingers. He was seeing red and couldn’t really tell if it was because he was growing closer to unconsciousness or if it was because there was blood in his eyes. Maybe it was both.

As John dragged himself to his car, parked at the corner, he found himself wondering if he’d make it home to call a doctor. It was at least thee miles away without traffic. Wincing as he ducked into the drivers seat, he chuckled humorlessly, after everything he just did, what might be described as several counts of capital murder, his problem was traffic. So mundane, yet it might determine whether he woke up tomorrow or if he just bled out in his car, in the busy streets of New York. 

The engine rumbled to life, more life than John felt like he had and, he slowly peeled away from the shadows of the curb. As he drove, his red stained vison seemed to double and eventually, he realized that it would be suicide to try to make it home. The Continental was much closer. 

Taking a sharp turn, John headed towards his new destination, hoping he’d actually get there.

She usually preferred to park her car herself, she paid to much for it, killed to much for it, to trust some random kid with her very shiny, extremely expensive car. So, Y/n drove slowly through the underground park of the Continental, searching for a spot. The car barely hummed in the silence, it was much like her, stylish, quiet, and in the right circumstances, deadly. 

Eventually, she found one, next to a familiar Mustang. Cutting off the engine, Y/n gathered her bags, ready to head up and check in, though as she walked past the car, she noticed that it was still running. And that the driver was still inside. At an uneventfully and unhurried pace, Y/n shrugged her bag higher up, onto her shoulder, moving the window, confirming that the barely conscious occupant was in fact John. “Fuck,” she mumbled quietly. 

Worry swelled in her chest, causing her to roll her eyes to in annoyance. Leave it to John Wick, to make her feel this way. Hell, leave it to John to make her feel anything at all. Trying the handle, Y/n quietly sighed in relief when the door opened. “Y/n...” he mumbled, so he could see her, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell happened to you?” Her words came out breathlessly as Y/n tugged on his arms, tying to pull him out of the car. “Please tell me you can still walk.”

“If I can drive, I can walk,” John quipped, Y/n was the last person that John wanted to show weakness in front of, she had always been this force of strength and quiet, calculated determination. He’d always thought that it was impossible for someone like her to exist, never, ever showing weakness or pain, at least not in front of him. It was indescribable really, like she couldn’t be phased. Emotionless, ruthless, incapable of caring for anyone outside of herself, all wrapped up in ethereal beauty. John shouldn’t have, but he had fallen for her anyway. That was why he hated that she was seeing him like this. It made him seem weak, surely a woman like her was anything but weak. Little did John know, he was her weakness. 

“Good,” as John leaned against the car, clutching his side to slow the bleeding, Y/n turned of his car, closing and locking the doors. Afterwards, she slung his arm over her shoulders, urging him forward, “Come on.”

For some reason, one that confused her above everything else,  Y/n had brought John up to her room instead of ensuring that he had gotten his own. She had also ensured Charon that she’d tend to his injuries and that the doctor wasn’t necessary. Y/n had convinced herself that it was because calling the doctor would be a waste of a coin, his injuries weren’t fatal and she knew her way around a needle. But really, what she hated to admit, was that it was because, she couldn’t trust someone else with his life. She didn’t want too. 

Huffing, Y/n helped John to the bed, “Take off your shirt,” she ordered, walking off into the bathroom. Thankfully, the rooms were always stocked with a capable first aid kit for those who preferred to patch themselves up. Returning with the kit and a small basin of warm water and a white hand towel, Y/n bit back a frown when she saw the bruises dominating his chest and the bleeding wound at his side. 

John straightened up, turning to her as Y/n took a seat next to him, “You don’t have to do this,” he objected as she got to work on cleaning around the stab wound, expert fingers working efficiently and almost painlessly. 

Her tone was flat, but John could swear that there was concern beneath it. Maybe he was more delirious that he originally figured, “I don’t have to do a lot of things. But you’re hurt and I’m here, I don’t suppose you wanted me to let you bleed out down there.”

John sighed, shaking his head. She was always so hard to converse with, it was like she was constantly playing defense. She was. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, staring her, wishing that she would just stop for a second and meet his eyes. 

Y/n continued, seemingly unaffected by his words, though inside, she was in turmoil, wondering why John made her feel the way she did, wishing she could just make his troubles stop, fix it all for him. Maybe that was what everyone meant when they said the people who show the least felt the most. “It doesn’t matter what you meant, or what I mean.”

“Then what does matter?”

Y/n’s jaw clenched and for a split second, she thought about just saying exactly what she felt, but caught it before it left and instead she said; “Would you just stop talking and let me finish this?” After Y/n finished closing the stab wound, she got to work on removing the bullets still lodged in his right shoulder, thankfully, they weren’t anywhere that would cause complications. Her mother used to be a doctor at the Continental, so Y/n liked to think that she had picked up a few helpful lessons. John winced and hissed very quietly as she continued, but he didn’t speak. 

When her work was complete, John was already half asleep, and she helped him lay back onto the bed. Y/n left to clear away the things she had used and when she was completely sure that she was sound asleep, she carefully removed his shoes and used a clean towel and some warm water to gently wipe dried blood and dirt from his face and bare chest.

It didn’t take long enough and for a while after she was through, Y/n sat at the bedside. She’d have hated for anyone to see it, but occasionally, she let herself go, caressing the side of his face or running her hand through the end of John’s hair. She had no idea of how long she spent there, doting on John with the lightest of touches, mesmerized by his soft, steady breaths and the rise and fall of his chest but eventually, the sky was changing, the sun rising. Almost entranced by his sleeping form, Y/n felt calmer than she had before. She had spent her entire life, learning and thinking that pain and love were weaknesses that she couldn’t be afforded. It wasn’t easy coming from a family that made crime a profession, she was learning to fight from the minute she knew what the word meant and being trained to patch herself up instead of relying on someone else. “You can trust me,” John had told her once, but she had laughed half heartedly instead of telling him he could do the same.  He could though, Y/n hoped he knew that.

Her eyes were heavy with tire, but she wouldn’t sleep, if this was they only time that Y/n could admire him, love him without prying, judging eyes, she’d take it. The morning light casted the faintest glow on his face and Y/’n’s eyes settled on John’s lips. In a fleeting moment, Y/n leaned down, her face hovering over John’s, and without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his slightly parted lips.

Ever since they had met, John had dreamt of her. In his dreams, she had the most beautiful smile- that was usually how he knew it was a dream, the Y/n he knew in the waking world never smiled. But he was sure if she did, it would have been better than anything he could have ever envisioned. Sometimes, in his dreams, he’d be chasing her, his finger’s barely brushing the edges of her blouse. Y/n would glance back, throwing her head back in contagious laughter and if he stayed asleep long enough, John would catch her. “You’re mine now,” he’d say, smiling down at her.

“I’ve always been yours,” she’ return, and reach up to kiss him. The kiss always felt like the wings of butterflies fluttering against his lips. So light and short that it was easy for John to remember that the moment was merely a creation of his subconscious. That time though, the kiss felt different, new, real. Before he knew it, the dream was fading. “Wait!” He wanted to call, but his eyes shot open.

To his surprise, the kiss didn’t go away with his slumber, it was actually happening and as fast as he had opened his eyes, he shut them again, responding to Y/n’s lips on his. 

At first, she melted against him, but when John’s hand found her hair, Y/n pulled away, mouth agape and eyes wide. Quietly, she gasped, her fingers brushing against pink lips which had had just started to grow plumper from kissing, “I’m so sorry,” she stood abruptly, trying to put more space between herself and John who now laid propped on his elbows. 

“Y/n,” he began, wincing slightly as he pushed himself off the bed, easing himself into a standing position. The pills she had slipped into his mouth just before he had dosed off had helped significantly, so he didn’t really feel like he had been shot, but more like someone had punched him really, really hard, with a literal iron fist. “You don’t have to apologize,” John reasoned, though Y/n didn't seem to hear it, backing away towards the window, turning her face away. “I feel the same way,” he finished with a sigh.

Turning back to him Y/n clenched her jaw, her eyes not meeting his, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t feel anything but mild annoyance for you,” she shook her head in defiance, though her façade was cracking. “That kiss.....it was just a moment of......” Y/n stammered, not really knowing how to hide her feelings. She hated feeling so exposed, so vulnerable. “It was just....”

“Stop,” John was in front of her in a couple long steps, his tone firm but in no way harsh, John just wanted Y/n to listen, understand that feeling didn’t equate weakness, “Just stop for five seconds, please.”

“John, don’t, don’t try to convince me to accept my feelings or-” faster than she could register, John cut her off, crashing his lips to his, holding Y/n at her forearms. At first, she resisted, but eventually she surrendered to John and the part of herself that had been begging for her to tell him how she felt for months now.

Sighing against him, Y/n submitted, melting against John, her hands sliding up his shoulders, wrapping around his neck. “John,” she whispered when they broke, leaving less than an inch of space between their lips.

“Don’t,” he shushed her quietly, “Can we talk about it later?” His hand crept up to gently cradle the back of her neck and instead of resisting she nodded, the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips. It was nothing like the broad one she had worn in his dreams, but she looked even more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamt up. “Come here,” he mumbled, pulling her into another kiss, slowly walking them backwards towards the bed.

[barn3sandnobl3]

Tongue Tied - Part 3

Holidays are crazy so here's a long-ish one

Happy holidays everyone, hope everyone's had a safe and joy-filled time with friends/family/loved ones ❤️

Summary: Bucky has to go undercover in Hydra as The Winter Soldier again to help the team shut them down once and for all. As complicated as this mission already is, he wasn’t expecting the added complication/risk of a beautiful, mysterious assassin that Hydra has recently acquired.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (SHE HERE)

Warnings: violence, anxiety, sadness

Note: this starts off basically at Bucky's POV before the mission, I realized it doesn't flow as well but as I edit/write/post I realize these things are lil choppy lol sorry my friends

----

As Bucky and the Hydra strike team were gearing up, he heard steady footsteps approaching them. He glanced up to see the general accompanied by a young woman with an emotionless expression on her face. She was dressed in a combat uniform and it took Bucky by surprise, although he didn’t show it. He hadn’t seen any women in the compound yet and this one seemed very…tiny. As the two approached the group of men, she was introduced.

“Soldat, men, this is Y/N. She will be accompanying you on this mission.” Bucky met her stare and the lifelessness in her eyes matched his, if not more. He nodded in acknowledgement as the general continued, “she joined us a few years back while you were gone, and she’s been a loyal asset ever since.”

Bucky looked back to her expecting a smug or proud look but was met with nothing. 

As one of the strike team men were about to ask her about her specific skill set, the general interrupted with a raised hand.

“She doesn’t speak. Ever. I’m pretty sure she’s a mute, so you two should get along just fine,” he laughed as he looked at Bucky, “Oh, and don’t let her physique fool you, she can take down anyone, I've seen it myself. Even an army. Even you, Soldat.” he grinned as he pictured the idea. “Anyways, she knows what’s required for the mission, so there won’t be much need for conversation anyway.”

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Another soldier asked, Bucky taking in her features as she blankly stared back and he noticed she was actually quite beautiful.

“She doesn’t say” the general laughed, walking away. 

An uneasy feeling settled over Bucky from how much the general laughed and smiled. It told Bucky that he was much more careless with human life than those last in command that Bucky remembered. That he didn’t take it seriously. 

He shook the feeling as he, the strike team and Y/N climbed aboard the jet and set out to Wakanda.

The 16-hour flight felt much longer than usual. Bucky had nothing to do to pass time. He was the Winter Soldier right now and he couldn’t exactly be seen playing Sudoku or listening to Spotify. He simply sat in his chair, perfectly still, staring straight ahead of him. It wasn’t until he saw something move out of the corner of his eye that he broke his stare and caught Y/N fiddling with knives, figuring out where to put the multitude of them in her tactical suit.

"Need help?” he offered blankly. She looked up to him, met him straight in the eyes, and went back to sliding knives in various places. 

Right, he thought, like she was going to answer. 

He didn’t notice until now that her eyes were an extremely bright Y/E/C. They almost sparkled. With a small shake of his head, he remembered that he needed to concentrate. This was the first mission he had as the Winter Soldier and he was expected to behave as such. He can't be staring into someone's eyes before battle..no matter how gorgeous they were.

Instead, his mind started and wander and he began to worry about fighting the Wakandan soldiers without actually killing them. He had to make himself look lethal, but he promised himself he would never take another innocent life. Natasha taught him a move that would render the other person unconscious, making it look like they had their neck snapped. It looked fairly easy, but it had to be performed with the perfect amount of pressure, otherwise, they really would be killed.

Bucky glanced down at his metal arm and closed his eyes. He hated this thing, the weapon of destruction. How many people had he killed with this arm? How many lives did he destroy?

He opened his eyes to see the beautiful landscape of Wakanda and was thankful they had finally arrived. He needed to pull his head out of his own thoughts in order to pull this off. Please let this go well, he thought to himself, as the jet landed.

--

Bucky huffed out as he finished knocking out six men that had cornered him. He had successfully knocked them all unconscious without causing them too much harm, for which he felt relieved.

The team still had a long way before they reached the weapon’s chamber, which had Bucky hopeful. 

Maybe we’ll be forced to retreat soon, he thought.

He looked over to see that almost half the team had already been killed by the Wakandan soldiers and Bucky had to suppress a smirk. 

Good riddance to you, assholes. 

Seeing the rest of the team in the middle of the battle didn’t interest him, it wasn’t until he caught Y/N in the corner of his eye that he stopped to look. 

She was ruthless. 

She had three men attacking her at once and she didn’t even seem phased. Bucky noted that even when she fought, barely a single sound left her mouth. He only heard a small groan when one of the men punched her ribs, which almost caused Bucky to run and help her, had she not retaliated with a brutal kick to the man’s face while using the other man’s body as leverage. 

Bucky was impressed. Her moves were fluid and graceful, yet strong and sturdy. One of the other strike members cried for help, pulling him out of his gaze. Bucky took a step forward to ‘help’ him out, until he was being side tackled, hard, and brought into the next room, crashing onto the floor as he and his attacker broke through the door. Bucky was so caught off guard, he immediately went on the defence and grabbed his attacker by their neck, only to realize he was squeezing red titanium alloy.

“Relax, asshole. It’s just me” Iron Man called out.  Bucky quickly did a scan of the room before realizing the rest of the fighting had drowned out the noise and Tony’s voice. His head fell back to the floor with relief and he let go of his neck.

“What are you doing, Tony? You can’t be talking to me. This is too dangerous” Bucky huffed as he stood up. Tony’s face mask withdrew in time for Bucky to see him roll his eyes.

“Not even a month in Hydra and you’re already back to being incredibly paranoid? Jeez, Frosty.” Tony pulled out a small, thin USB and handed it to Bucky, “we want you to plug this little guy in one of their main computers. It’s a system that’ll send us the ‘where’ and ‘when’ for their future missions. It’s easier than you relaying the info to us each time. Less chance of you getting caught, and hopefully less time you have to spend with them” Bucky took the USB apprehensively.

“Isn’t this more dangerous? I have no reason to be near the computers, I’m just the muscle. If I get caught, they’ll be suspicious. And if they find the USB, that’ll be even worse.” Tony didn’t have time to answer before Bucky spotted Y/N reaching the doorway and seeing him and Tony just standing there, neither of them in defensive positions. Bucky reacted quickly and threw a hard punch straight to Tony’s face and thank God Tony’s mask came back on and he moved out of the way just in time. Bucky prayed she hadn’t seen Tony hand him the USB or heard any of their conversations. His heart was racing at an incredible pace. Tony, seeing Y/N, responded with two shots from each of his hand repulsors, aimed at both soldiers. Each of them rolled out of the way, ending up standing beside each other. Bucky spoke with as much harshness as he could.

“We need to fall back. Our men weren’t prepared for the Avengers to be here.” He looked to Y/N and her lips were in a tight line, blood coming down from the side of her face where she was cut deeply. She gave a curt nod and threw the closest possible thing towards Tony with such force, it surprised both men in the room. The object seemed to hit its target with a loud clang, and Tony stumbled backwards. Bucky and Y/N ran out the door to find less than half their team still standing. Bucky briefly wondered if Steve was also here. God, that’s just the last thing this mission needs.

“We’re leaving. Now.” Bucky barked at the rest of the men, and you didn’t have to ask them twice as they immediately broke out into a sprint towards the jet. Hydra’s strike team may be incredibly lethal, but they knew when they were beaten. When they had finally reached the jets, Y/N didn’t hesitate to sit in the pilot seat and start it up. Their actually pilot was either killed or too injured to come back with them, but neither Bucky nor Y/N cared.

He knew the question was ridiculous at this point, but he asked her anyways,

“You know how to fly this?” the look Y/N gave him made him shut his mouth and sit in the co-pilot seat. How was he supposed to know what she saw back there? How could he ask her? Would she tell the general if she did see something? Bucky knew he had to find out the extent of her silence as soon as they touched down back at Hydra. This wasn’t going to be fun. Bucky knew this was most likely going to end badly, and violently. His time at Hydra was getting cut extremely short.

[lailannajacobs]

A Thief of Artifacts and a Thief of Crowns (Handmade Thieves Pt. I)

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader unwittingly finds her way onto Asgard and has to deal with all the attention that follows being a mortal in the extravagant realm. To his surprise, Loki finds himself having just as much trouble if not more than reader in dealing with it. 

Warnings: none! 

Word Count: 4.3k 

A/N: Hey guys! So this part almost reads like a prologue because it’s setting up the flirting and banter you know is going to come with the rest of the parts! This is inspired by an ask I got weeks ago and is leading up to that request in the upcoming chapters! Let me know what you think, it always makes my day when you do!! <3 

Walking down the cobblestone streets, you pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt to shield your face from view. Feeling helpless, it was the only thing you could think to do, even though you knew you stood out like a sore thumb in the Asgardian market anyways. It didn’t matter that the difference in physical appearance between these people and humans was almost nonexistent, one look at you and they’d know you were different. Intricately braided hair and long gowns clashed against your dark leather jacket that was thrown over a ratty sweatshirt and tucked into khaki coloured cargo pants.

Your ship had crashed somewhere in the tall, mountainous coast after an engine failure and despite being dazed and half scared to death, you had recognized, even in the distance, the rainbow coloured bridge. The sight alone had almost sent you to tears, but you hadn’t shed any tears at the crash and you hadn’t been about to start then, even if you wished you could have crashed in almost any other realm.

Mercifully, you hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, but your ratty old ship was a different story. For a couple hours, you had tried in vain to fix it but deep down you had known you needed a replacement part. There was no way you could make a quick escape to get off this planet unnoticed.

You tucked your grease covered hands into your pockets as if that was the reason you couldn’t blend in with the crowd around you. Despite keeping your eyes lowered, you could feel everyone’s gaze on you. It didn’t help slow your already racing heart. Just being here put your life in danger. Having everyone stare at you only decreased your odds of making it out alive. Already that your odds were slim to begin with. Even if it hadn’t been for the fact that you weren’t welcome due to your…occupation…finding pieces for a ship as old as yours was nearly impossible. The last spare part you had found two realms ago had been almost as used as the piece you had replaced it with. The Centaurian man who had sold it to you had assured you that it would make the journey back home, but the only place it had gotten you was marooned on Asgard.

Shop vendors refused to look at you as you made your way to the other end of the market and the crowd spread to give you a wide berth. Maybe you needed to take off the hoodie. You probably looked more threatening with it hiding what you really were, which was the least threatening species in the galaxies. But you left it on, unable to part with the one false sense of security you had.

You approached what looked like a scrap metal shop, hidden away from view in a far corner, probably due to the fact that it didn’t fit in with the rest of the beautifully decorated, dainty shops. As far as you could tell, there was no one behind the wide table that showcased an array of rusty trinkets, most of them worthless, even to someone with an ancient ship. It was safe to assume that the piece you needed was behind the black, tattered cloth where the merchant probably spent most of his time. Short of jumping over the table and probably scaring whoever was there half to death, you were going to have to wait - regardless of the fact that it made you feel like a sitting duck.

A looming presence paused beside you, almost brushing your shoulder it was so close. The scent of pine and and lemon replaced the smell of engine oil that had been following you around, and you knew whoever was beside you was a man who didn’t spend much of his time tinkering with these kinds of objects. A man who didn’t belong in front of a kiosk like this one. Picking up an old radio battery and inspecting it, you hoped he would leave if you didn’t engage. Despite a fight being the last thing you wanted, your heart began to thrum in anticipation as if it knew one was coming.

“I was sent to find the unidentified threat that had crash landed in the mountains.” The voice was cool and emotionless as if telling a story he already bored of. “Imagine my dismay when I discovered that I was hunting a Midgaridan intent on shopping.”

You practically dropped the battery at the word hunting but you forced yourself to take in a deep breath and slowly put it back on the table. It didn’t matter that you still didn’t have the piece. If someone was already hunting you, you needed to leave. Now.

“I wouldn’t suggest running, if that’s what you’re thinking. I can promise you that you will not get far.” Despite the warning, he almost sounded as if he wanted you to run - wanted you to make his life a little more interesting.

Without engaging, you peered into the shop, hoping to somehow make the owner magically appear. If the stranger only wanted you gone, then all you needed was your piece and you could be off the planet in a few hours. But you knew better than to try and explain your similar goals to the stranger though. Whatever he was sent here to do after he caught you wouldn’t be anything good.

“The owner is a little busy at the moment,” he said when he noticed where your gaze was at, “I made sure of that.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You didn’t want to think about what this stranger had done to the merchant. But if the owner wasn’t there then maybe you could hop over the table and escape through his shop. Your pounding heart felt like a million reminders a minute to get the hell out of there but you forced yourself to stop and think long enough to realize that not knowing what was on the other side of that curtain might be worse than trying to outrun him in the busy market.

You took a bounding step in the hopes to lose him, but he gripped your arm as if he had sensed what you were about to do, and spun you around to face him. “I’m sorry little Midgardian, but you can’t leave.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice as if he had been hoping for more of a challenge.

That was all right with you. You could change that. Pulling him toward you, you kneed him in the groin and, with his loosened grip, took off in the other direction. You only made it about five feet when he appeared in front of you. Whirling, you sprinted toward the small alley on the other side of the market but, once again, he blocked your path. You skidded to a stop just out of his reach and spun to find another exit but no matter where you looked, he was there, closing in until there were so many grinning images of him that they formed a circle a few feet out around you.

Your heart sunk in your chest and suddenly you realized that you had been doomed the moment you had crashed in the mountains. There was no mistaking who the Asgardian was who was hunting you. If you had thought crashing had been the worst part of your day, you were wrong. The second Prince of Asgard was much, much worse.

You crossed your arms and faked a confidence that had always come so naturally to you. It had gotten you out of terrible situations before and you were hoping that, despite the god in front of you, it would do the same here.

“The illusions are cute, Prince. How about I talk only to you instead. Make them disappear and I promise I won’t run, or hurt you.”

“Midgardian,” he clucked, “how naive of you to think you could hurt me.”

Bu the men faded until only one remained, his dark hair falling to his shoulder over a dark green and gold tunic. You stood, stunned for a moment. None of the rumours had exaggerated just how handsome the prince was. You hoped it was the only rumour that was true, but judging by the dangerous glint in his eyes, everything you had heard had to have at least some small kernel of truth in them.

You pulled off your hoodie to get a better look at the sharp cheek bones and the incredible green eyes of the predator in front of you. You hated that you weren’t repulsed by - were possibly even slightly attracted to - the person who would probably bring upon your doom. For that alone you wanted to smack him.

“You’re a woman.” He said with raised brows.

You glared back. “You don’t have to look so surprised.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Even if it’s pleasantly?”

“Especially then.” You growled.

He let out a little huff that may have been a laugh, “Pleasantries aside, we have other things to attend to.”

He grabbed your arm before you could even think to move and steered you down a small path you hadn’t noticed earlier. It took everything you had to comply rather than try and fight your way out, but you knew it would only make everything worse. Maybe if he suspected nothing from you, they’d let you go. But from what you could tell, the path you were on led toward the palace, and you figured nothing good awaited you there.

If you thought there had been eyes on you before, it was nothing compared to the ones boring into you now without shame. The scene you had caused meant that you were followed by whispers as he lead you down the middle of the street, parting the crowd like the red sea. No one wanted to be in his path yet everyone wanted to be close enough to see the pariah being led down the street.

You held every gaze, not daring to look down now that you weren’t hiding. Only after a few minutes of walking, people began to look away, almost frightened. You felt a smile tug at your lips but it didn’t last long. You weren’t that scary. Looking up at the prince, you saw a scowl plastered on his face, daring anyone to keep their eyes on you for longer than a second. There was a reason the crowd parted so easily; he looked like he was about to murder someone. Hopefully, that someone wasn’t you.

You tried to shrug him off as you approached the palace, if only to walk to your death with a little dignity, but he tightened his grip.

“I’m going to bruise if you keep holding on so tight.” You snarled, despite the fact that the pain in your arm was enough of a distraction to keep the nauseous fear at bay.

He probably thought you were going to try and escape, which only angered you more. If he thought you were stupid enough to try that, knowing the deadly rumours that surrounded him, he was sorely mistaken in underestimating you. The Prince was known for his cunning and his talent - a dangerous combination that you were smart enough not to cross. The only problem, was that your anger was getting in the way of you thinking clearly. Without thinking clearly, you were bound to do something incredibly stupid like yell at him or try to stab him with one of the three knives you had hidden on you before you had left your ship.

Thankfully his grip lessened before you could do any of those things.

Neither of you said anything as you made your way through the busy streets, the inevitable looming in the palace’s shadow. You refused to ask him any questions, knowing that if you did, he might get the impression that you were afraid of what was to come. And you were not afraid. Even if your palms were sweaty and your heart was racing, this wasn’t the first time death had knocked on your door. There had been closer calls on other planets and you had met much scarier things than the prince - though maybe nothing with as much attitude. You had escaped every other tough situation you had been in before now and you would get out of this one too. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. All you needed was the stupid piece and then you’d be on your merry way - hopefully in one piece.

“I’m not going to let you go.” The prince mentioned after you shoved him again when you tried to walk up the palace steps on your own.

“You’ve made that clear.”

Instead of trying to pull away from him you threw your elbow into his ribs.

He let out a small grunt but held you close and looked down at you with a smirk. It was almost more terrifying than if he would have been angry. And he barely seemed to have felt it, which only served to anger you more than it did him. Through gritted teeth, you kept walking, pulling him with you up the palace steps.

You tried your hardest to keep track of exit as you made your way through the winding halls, but the prince was now doing a good job at making sure an easy escape wouldn’t be in your cards. Blindfolding you would have been easier, but blindfolds were meant for the living. You took in a shaky breath. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything, that it didn’t mean they were planning on killing you, but the thoughts kept echoing over and over in your mind.

Massive golden doors loomed in the distance and you approached too quickly. You wanted to drag your heels, fight and claw your way out, but no matter how many different scenarios you ran through your head, they all ended worse than the last.

Suddenly, he pulled you into a small, secluded alcove you hadn’t noticed, your bodies practically smushed together. Your heart began to hammer in your chest and you wondered if he could feel it too - if that was exactly what he wanted. This close, you couldn’t reach for any of your knives before he could summon his magic. Here, you were completely at his mercy. Once again you wondered if that was exactly what he wanted.

Looking up into those wild eyes, you knew, rumour or not, how dangerous he could be. There was nothing safer than predictability and you saw none of that in those emerald pools. You would fight whatever was coming next, even if you had no clue what that would be.

He waited until two guards walked by and their steps receded. “Do you want to live Midgardian?” His midnight voice was a silky caress, echoing through your body.

You levelled his dangerous look with a glare of your own. If he was going to kill you, he had better not give you the chance to get a shot in first. Because you’d be damn sure that if he was taking you out, you’d bring him down with you out of spite alone.

The corner of his lips twitched upward, “You’re stubborn. Good. It will serve you well.” He placed a hand on the wall beside your head, boxing you in with his arm. “A word of advice Midgardian; the meek do not survive here.”

“Why help me?” You demanded, wary of the words coming from his silver tongue, but unable to look away from those intense green eyes.

He cocked his head. “Who says I’m helping you?”

He tried to push you out but you pushed back, pinning him to the wall with your forearm to his throat. “I’m smart enough to know that answering a question with a question is no answer at all.”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your anger. “If you must know, if you survive, it will only anger dear old father, which, will not upset me in the slightest.”

You mulled over his words, “And if I die instead?”

He shrugged and tilted his head down so that he could whisper the answer, his breath tickling your ear, “Then you die. I’ve heard it’s what you Midgardians are good at anyways.”

You jerked back, but in the tight space, it wasn’t far enough. “Then why bother with me at all?”

His lips spread into a wide, cunning grin, that let you know that he knew so much more about what was to come than you ever could know, and dragged you into the throne room to where Odin sat, residing over a hall empty of any kind of life other than guards. Everything was a dark gold you assumed might have been meant to showcase the planet’s wealth in a comforting and homely way, but you felt none of that. To you, it only seemed cold and impersonal, not unlike the man sitting on the throne.

You approached the conqueror of realms and did your best to hold your head high. After having pinned his son to the wall seconds ago, standing straight wouldn’t be hard to do in comparison. You wouldn’t bow to Odin any more than you would bow to his son, or any man for that matter.

“Father,” The prince sneered, “This is the intruder Hiemdall saw enter Asgard through the mountains.”

“This is a Midgardian.” The king stated, as if the sentence alone earned the disdain dripping in his voice.

The prince shrugged, the perfect image of insouciant boredom, “Regardless, this is who broke in.”

The king’s eye narrowed on his son in distrust, “How is that even possible?”

“This,” You interrupted before he could answer, “is person, not a thing. And she can hear, understand and speak for herself thank you very much.”

The king pursed his lips and turned his attention toward you, finally acknowledging your presence. You were pretty sure he looked at gutter rats with more affection in his eyes than he did in at you in that moment.

“Why are you here Midgardian?”

“I can assure you that I really don’t want to be. My ship’s engine malfunction and - don’t ask me how - but I landed here. I went into the city for the missing part and I’ll leave as soon as my ship is up and running. I can be gone within minutes if you’ll supply me with a new ship.” You suggested, heeding the prince’s warning and trying to be bold.

“I do not appreciate being lied to.” Odin’s booming voice took you by surprise, causing you to grit your teeth.

You looked over your words but couldn’t find anything that wasn’t the truth, “And why would I be lying? I have the bruises to prove to you that the crash wasn’t planned.”

He raised a brow as if expecting the obvious answer that for some reason you couldn’t put your finger on, looking at you in the same way your seventh grade math teacher had during algebra. If he expected a different answer as to why you were here, he wold be throughly disappointed.

Odin sighed, “Do you really think I would believe the words of an intergalactic thief?” Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the prince’s head snap towards you, staring as if seeing you for the first time. “Did you truly think I would not recognize you?”

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t. And I’m not a thief.” You corrected. “I’m an archeologist.”

A sharp exhale sounded to your right but you ignored it. Now was not the time to see what the prince found so amusing.

You had always steered clear of Asgard, knowing that, despite their cache of incredible artifacts, Heimdall was the kind of security that wasn’t worth trifling with. The London Museum was content with everything else you brought back from smaller realms and although some would say you were stealing, the pay check and official title as their Intergalactic Archeologist made it hard to feel bad about what you did. Especially when most of the people you were stealing from, had stolen it from someone else initially. Despite not being a very reputed thief, you were infamous enough to avoid Asgard and other powerful planets. Unfortunately, it seemed that avoiding them hadn’t been enough to stop the king from realizing who you were.

“Again, I don’t seem to believe you Midgardian.”

“If you let me go back to earth I can get you one of my pay checks and bring you back proof.” You tried.

He let out a cruel laugh. “Never…” But he trailed off, lost in though for a moment. “But I could use someone with a standing on Midgard like yours.”

Panic gripped you by the throat and for a second it felt as if you couldn’t breath. Being trapped here - a prisoner - was worse than death. If you thought you were desperate to get off this planet before, you had no idea what it made you now.

“What makes you think I’ve got any sort of standing on Earth?” You blurted hoping he couldn’t tell how much his words had rattled you.

“She’s right,” the prince piped up. “Just look at the way she’s dressed. No person of any sort of standing would look like that.”

You resisted the urge to throw your elbow into his ribs again if only because he was helping your case, even if it was backhanded. It didn’t matter why he said it, all that mattered was that it could mean the world for you if you played along.

But Odin ignored his son, not even bothering with a glance in his direction. “You’re known among your people for travelling the realms, am I correct?”

“Only by a few.” You answered as vaguely as possible.

“And do those few have considerable wealth and standing?”

You knew it wouldn’t be wise to lie so you grit out the word “yes.”

The answer seems to satisfy him. “Good. Then you will stay on Asgard for a mortal year, acting as an ambassador to maintain good relations between our planets.

His words sent the world spinning and you would have collapsed if the prince hadn’t been holding you up. For the first time since you had crashed, the idea that you wouldn’t actually make it out alive truly settled and suddenly, you couldn’t breath. All you could manage was a whispered, “no.”

“It would be in your best interest Midgardian.”

You kept shaking your head, unsure of what else to do, “I just need my piece and I’ll go. You won’t ever see me again I promise.”

“You will get that piece after a year of service. The matter is final.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself looking up to the prince for help but he kept his gaze on his father, ignoring you just as Odin did him. He wouldn’t be any help. You doubted he could even if he had wanted to - not that he did - because, even if there weren’t many people who outranked him, his father was one of the few that did.

“You can’t do this.” You practically pleaded, hating how weak the words made you sound.

“You’ll see that I can.” The anger in Odin’s voice snapped you out of your bubbling panic, replacing it with anger.

You stood up straighter, no longer relying on the prince to hold you up. “And where’s my guarantee that you’ll keep up your end of the bargain?”

Odin glared, the look ferocious. “There will but none. You agree because death is your only other option.”

“You can’t kill me.” You snarled, but as soon as the words left your mouth you heard how untrue they were, even if by law, they were.

“A known thief was trespassing and was most likely attempting to steal priceless artifacts, using a false crash landing as cover for her crimes. No one would fault me for executing you. You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do.” He roared, the words resonating through the room as a clear warning to everyone in attendance. “If I chose to kill you, then I will do as I please.”

The prince’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on your arm and you clenched your jaw to keep from saying anything else. It wouldn’t be easy, but a year of service meant that you could still manage to find a spare part sooner, and you could make an early escape. All you needed to do was be cautious and bide your time. You’d find a way out. You always did.

“Escort her to the dungeon until we decide what exactly to do with her. Get her out of my sight.” The king said with a wave of his hand.  

The prince tried to pull you away but you shoved him off, “I can’t be a convincing ambassador if I’m locked up.” You protested.

“Guards, take her away.” The prince moved to lead you away but his father’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Loki, stay.”

Four armoured men surrounded you and, despite how much you hated yourself for it, your eyes were drawn to the prince’s for help. His eyes met yours, unfeeling and unyielding as he watched them pull you away.

“Oh and thief.” Odin’s voice rang out loud and clear, freezing the guards for a moment. “Trust me when I say I will know if you acquire anything that could be used to repair your ship. You’ll find the penalty for any sort of transgression is death.

You clenched your fists, chipped nails digging into your palms as you followed the guards down the gold halls and into the dungeon.

[my-darling-boy]

What is ace? I hope asking this isn’t offensive, I’m just honestly curious.

Oooh no worries, it’s not offensive to ask :P I’d be glad to explain!

Ace is short for being asexual, and there are many ways that asexual people interpret and view what being asexual means to them, but asexuality generally means you do not experience sexual feelings for others. However, some use asexuality as a blanket term to describe other orientations in the ace spectrum such as greysexual or demisexual (more on these later). So with that in mind, asexuality is also categorised by those who experience quite inconsistent or unclear sexual feelings. Asexuals may experience forms of attraction, such as romantic, aesthetic, and sensual attraction, but still not feel the need to pursue someone sexually. This is NOT to be confused with sex repulsion; although there are some asexuals who are sex repulsed as well, the two are separate ideas. This is also NOT to be confused with low libido, which is often an argument to discredit asexuality. Having a low libido, the body’s low desire to feel bodily satisfaction, is not the same thing as asexuality, which is, loosely, the mental feeling of having no (or unclear) desire to have sex with someone. Contrary to popular belief, an asexual person can actually have a very high libido and still not experience sexual attraction. Asexuality is also NOT to be confused with being celibate, which is the act of consciously abstaining from having sex.

Unfortunately, there is a lot of hate towards people who identify as ace, both within the LGBT+ community and outside of it. There are even recent accounts of asexuals being driven out of Pride events because they were flying ace flags. You might think a lack of sexual attraction would be cause for people to leave us be, but instead, it draws just as much harassment from LGBT+ people as it does from cishets. Many trans individuals are targeted as well since a higher number of trans people identify as ace. Lots of asexuals sometimes feel unsafe to disclose their asexuality because of situations like this. Seemingly nice people have even abruptly stopped talking to me after I casually mention being ace. And if you are unfamiliar with asexuality as you say, I think it’s important to know that there is a lot of misinformation surrounding asexuality which needs to be taken into consideration if you ever plan on looking more into it. So here’s a bit of some General Info and it’s a bit Longᵀᴹ and I’m by no means a Highly Educated Ace Expert, but this is what I can tell you as best I can!

Some people feel asexuals receive no oppression or hardships at all, and that they don’t deserve a place in the LGBT+ community simply because they lack attraction in that manner. This is not true.

Something asexual people hear, ironically from people who claim to be LGBT+ allies, a lot is: “You just haven’t found the right person yet!” which, surprise, is what lots of other lesbian, gay, bi, etc. people hear. “You just haven’t had sex yet” is an invalid argument since people accept gay men all the time who have never dated men before; those men know they are gay because they feel romantic feelings towards a man before having intercourse with one. Asexuality works in the same fashion. I don’t have to have sex to know if I’m asexual, because the fact I already lack sexual desire, sexual attraction, etc. is already enough to tell.

People who are ignorant towards asexual people will often say that they’re “sick and demented” for having no sexual attraction, since society has been predisposed to think for a very long time that the pinnacle of a relationship is sex, which is untrue. Sex can be a way for a couple to express their love for one another but it is NOT the only way, though society often treats it like it is. Many asexuals, myself included, felt very alone and confused growing up into adulthood as seemingly everyone around them–friends, family, advertisements, films, music, clothing–assured them they were SUPPOSED to be feeling sexual attraction, and they weren’t, and it can make an ace person feel very isolated and yes, mentally ill. I myself thought there was something wrong with me when all of my contemporaries were obsessed with sex and I wasn’t. Even more pressure is put on asexual people when their parents demand children from them, when people make fun of them for seeming “so innocent” for not having sex or, even worse, when partners FORCE them to have sex with them. Asexual people sometimes suffer in relationships where their partner feels sex is vital to being a couple and forces the asexual person into having sex to “convert” them and you guessed it! It’s called rape. If you ever encounter a situation as an ace person where your partner feels that they are entitled to sex with you just because you are in a relationship with them, they do not deserve you, as NO ONE is entitled to your body but you. Allosexual people, the term used to describe anyone who DOES feel consistent sexual attraction, do not often understand how strongly steeped society is in sexual content and how even large corporations capitalise off of perpetuating the idea that sexual attraction is the hallmark of being a human. This massive and widespread idea has led lots of people to believe asexual people are mentally ill and that is COMPLETELY untrue. It is completely normal to have no sexual attraction or very weak/unclear sexual attraction to people. And this is what asexuality means.

Usually, people who are misinformed on asexuality hear the term and think of this completely heartless, emotionless person, and this is also untrue. They can be lovable, bubbly, and sweet! Asexuals are not emotionless: they experience the same levels of emotion as anyone else. ALSO. Asexual people can be romantic! Asexual people can hug AND kiss! Asexual people can masturbate! Asexual people can even have sex and still be asexual! Why? Because it has to do with the fact in all these examples, they still lack sexual desire and/or attraction to the person or object they engage in these activities with. You can like the feeling of sex as an asexual person; what makes you asexual is that you enjoy the feeling of the action versus feeling the actual desire towards the person you’re having it with. However, some people feel this latter fact makes them greysexual, a term used to describe someone who has unclear levels of sexual attraction or simply doesn’t know where to identify on the asexual scale. Some may even feel they are demisexual, a person who feels sexual attraction only after getting to know a person very well or being with someone for a long time. And some people even feel liking sex, without having sexual desire/attraction to the person they have it with, makes them not asexual. Some asexual people do not feel comfortable with kissing, and some love sloppy kisses. Some asexuals love things like very bodily romantic activities (such as what some might refer to as foreplay), and some just prefer holding hands or hugs. Some asexuals masturbate a lot, and some may never feel the want to or do it seldom. Some asexuals experiment with kinks, and some do not. Often, the definition of being asexual, along with its general perception, is often too black and white. You don’t have to hate EVERY bit of physical interaction to be considered asexual because like a lot of sexualities, it’s a sliding scale. And figuring out whether or not your personal preferences regarding romantic relationships makes you ace or not is really completely up to you when determining which term feels more comfortable.

Acephobic people often use the same historic argument that was used against gay men through the decades: that just explaining the sexuality is being inappropriate towards teens, which is also untrue. Acephobic people, after some Mental Gymnastics, believe that asexual people are pushing the idea that teens need to be constantly contemplating sex in order to even figure out if they’re asexual, and therefore, perverted, which is just??? The same kids get taught sex education in school (For instance, I was 10 when we had our first lesson) and some adults object to this because they don’t want their kids to be learning about sex at so young an age. But like school sex ed, or even explaining what being a lesbian means or what being asexual means, it’s being done so educationally, so that when a person is ready to determine something about themselves in regards to sexuality or gender, they have the tools and resources to make an educated self discovery with themselves and how they feel they identify. I can’t tell you how relieved I would have been at 14 for someone to tell me that it was normal to feel no interest in all of the sexual content my friends were obsessed with at the time. Instead, I was made to feel “weird” and was made fun of because I wasn’t infatuated with it like everyone else. It even led me to have so many nights crying, wondering how I was going to ever find someone to love after being taught that ALL my partner would want is sex. Explaining being gay to a 13 year old isn’t trying to force the teen into having thoughts on whether or not they like male sex, it’s simply saying “If you like boys, and you’re a boy, that’s normal!” Asexuality is the same way. It could simply be introduced by saying “If all your friends are getting curious about sex and certain body parts and you don’t feel very interested in that now and ALSO as time goes on, that’s normal!” And this is VERY important for asexual people to know. A lot of kids grow up thinking sex is expected of them, and are more likely to, once adults, be pressured into it and get stuck in relationships they feel abused or uncomfortable in. In a highly-sexulised modern society, it is important anyways to inform younger people it is normal to not be interested in sex and they should not be pressured into feeling like they should be. In fact, there are studies which show asexual people are just as likely to experience corrective rape, dehumanisation, abuse, sexual harassment, and invalidation, as other LGBT+ members and may also experience unique forms of sexual abuse allosexual people, within the LGBT+ community or not, do not endure. Educating people about asexuality is just as important as educating them about being gay or being transgender. It’s giving LGBT+ youth the resources they need to avoid being manipulated, given misinformation, or made to feel lesser and letting them know that who they are, however they eventually identify, is valid. Personally, I find the parents/adults who reject explanations of being asexual are the same parents/adults who ironically perpetuate sexual-normativity charged ideas in their household such as insisting on telling their 13 year old daughter to give them grandchildren, which for those of you who don’t know, usually requires sex. The same sex they don’t want their kids knowing anything about when someone talks about asexuality or being gay. Weird, right? It’s almost like they think anything other than being straight is “dirty” and should not be taught to their children or something. Also, I should note, Stonewall even flies the asexual pride flag (the purple, grey, black, and white). So for those acephobes trying to say asexuals are “fake”, just know the literal Stonewall officially acknowledges asexuality

And for me personally, I am gay, but I’m also asexual. So how does this work? Well, asexual people only have issues with the “sex” part. There’s nothing in it that outlines romantic attraction. I love men and doing romantic things with men, but have no sexual desire/attraction to them. There are asexual individuals who identify as aromantic-asexual. Meaning, in addition to not being interested in sex, they may also not be interested in being romantic. Since I’m gay and ace, I could technically also be referred to as homoromantic-asexual (having romantic feelings for another person of the same gender and ALSO having no sexual feelings towards another). But for ease of wording, I say gay and ace :P But you can say whatever you want! You can be biromantic-asexual! Or Pan and ace!

I should also note that, if you feel you are ace yourself, even though things might seem hopeless or scary with the amount of people spreading lies and hatred, you will find a partner who loves you, if that is something you wish to pursue and are worried will never be a reality. You will find friends who understand you or who are ace or aro as well. You will find people who support you. Your asexuality is not a burden or a disappointment. You are not “boring” or “selfish”. And you deserve every bit of happiness. 

There are more than a few websites and sources about asexuality, but I feel this one provides some short but concise insight into if you would like to know a little more!

Thanks for the ask!

[williamvapespeare]

@boopliette is amazing drew this beautiful (heartbreaking, angsty, perfect) scene yesterday and then we had a lot of feelings about Bahorel being sad and all of that inspired my brain to actually want to write again :)

(ft.a lot of bahorel being angsty, and a little bit of enjolras, grantaire, and feuilly, and a lot of friendship)

-

It was quiet outside, the kind of quiet that Bahorel had never quite learned to be comfortable with. He liked laughter, people, bodies pressed around him, things that gave life a heightened quality, that promised a worthy liveliness. Quiet was too much for him at the best of times. It rang in his ears like the leftover sounds of a concert, or a crowd, or like a gunshot: still reverberating.

He shook his head, as if to clear it, knowing there wasn’t much he could do to stop the overtired motion of his thoughts, or distract himself from the tension of the room inside. They were all on edge, the whole room buzzing with a kind of leftover energy that Bahorel knew from experience would only last for so long before it gave way to despair. It was a kind of balancing act, keeping yourself just on the edge of composure, despite the fact that everyone around you could see through to the way your very soul was hurting, because if one person gave in, they would all lose it.

Bahorel rolled his shoulder,s feeling the muscles in his back pop. He would be sore tomorrow; probably they all would.

The door behind him slid open and for a moment, Bahorel froze, stilling himself back into a semblance of emotionlessness before he turned around. He was only mildly surprised to see Enjolras, who seemed better than he had earlier, calmer, at least. The manic energy of chaos had given way to something like resolve, or more likely, shock.

Enjolras came to lean against the railing of the small balcony next to him, looked down into the late-night street below without seeming to see much of anything. Bahorel understood the feeling.

“Are you ok?” He motioned towards the darkening bruise on Enjolras’s jaw, didn’t mention the reminders of fingerprints on his bicep, just visible below the sleeve of his t-shirt. Whenever things like this happened, Enjolras was the priority. Not because he held any notions of rank or superiority, but because of the simple fact that the authorities knew him as the leader, and for that reason, he was also their priority. And although he had emerged relatively unscathed, he seemed dimmed. His hair fell limp around his shoulders, strands matted with dried blood and dirt and Bahorel had to trust that Combeferre would have noticed if he had any of the countless other injuries Bahorel could imagine.

And there was the guilt again, bitter and strong as ever.

“I’m fine.” Enjolras waved him off. “You should come inside,” he said, after another moment.” “Most people are going to stay for the night, at least. It’s not safe and I don’t think anyone really wants to-” Enjolras broke off, still except for a slight turn of his head as he gave Bahorel a questioning look.

“Be alone?”

Enjolras nodded.

Bahorel knew him well enough to hear the question in the silence: no one else can stand to be alone right now, so why are you? But he also knew that Enjolras, of all of them, understood what he was feeling. The guilt, the constant replaying of scenarios, wondering what went wrong, what he could have done differently and god, Enjolras already had enough to wrry about. That was why Bahorel was supposed to worry about these things for him in the first place. And there was no way around admitting it, he had failed.

“I’m sorry,” Bahorel started to say, finally, his voice carefully clear of an emotion that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back once he gave into. “I’m so sorry. I should have-”

“Stop.” Enjolras’s voice was calm, but his eyes flashed with worry as he turned around. And Bahorel stopped, despite the blood still pounding in his veins and the headache pulsing at the corners of his vision and the bruises on his arms, because that’s what he did: he followed orders. “You have nothing to apologize for. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah.” The word hung in between them, bare and raw in its obvious uncertainty and Enjolras reached out to put a hand on his arm. Bahorel noted the raw skin of his knuckles, like his own. They’d all thrown punches that day.

And taken them, taken too many.

“You are indispensable to us, to our cause, to me,” Enjolras said, catching Bahorel’s gaze and holding it, his eyes serious, the small crease of a frown between his eyebrows. “Without you, today would have gone much worse.”

Bahorel sighed. Objectively, he knew that Enjolras was right. no one was arrested, and they were all alive, in one place, and mostly in one piece. But it felt so wrong, to stand by heplessly when so many people were hurting, to knew deep down that there was always more he could have done, more he could have prepared for.

Enjolras squeezed his arm once before letting go. “Thank you for everything,” he said, soft and just as serious as before, and Bahorel could only nod as he swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat.

As Enjolras turned to leave, he finally managed to speak again, “You too.”

He didn’t need to see Enjolras’s face to know his reaction; he was fairly certain that he was already feeling it.

-

The atmosphere seemed calmer when Bahorel stepped back inside, as if the earlier panic had settled into a sort of steady unease. He wasn’t sure which he liked less.

“Want some?” Bahorel started, turned around to see Grantaire at his elbow, holding out a half-empty bottle of tequila that he must have pulled from the back of a kitchen shelf, left over from some party or other that might have well have been a million years ago. It was the wrong thing to be drinking, reminding him more of celebrations and fun nights out than of the kind of evening you drank to forget, but at least it was something. He took the bottle with a small smile, took a swig, reveled in the way it burned his throat on the way down.

As soon as his hands were free, Grantaire wrapped his arms around himself in a defensive kind of gesture - or he’d bruised something and hadn’t told anyone. Bahorel frowned down at him over the bottle’s short neck. He’d seen Enjolras and Grantaire talking earlier out of the corner of his eye and it was clear that however horrible the events of the day had been, something about them had tipped the careful balance of the scale that was their relationship.

But after the fact, now that he wasn’t throwing himself headlong into the middle of chaos with all the enthusiasm of someone far too used to taking punches, or worrying over Enjolras and the rest of their friends, Grantaire just seemed lost.

“Hey.” Bahorel reached around him, setting the bottle down on a nearby shelf. Grantaire glanced up at him. He looked tired, bruised, worn out, the way they all looked, Bahorel thought with a pang. “You ok?”

Grantaire shrugged, a small, strained movement, his arms still folded across his chest. “Sure, yeah,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but he sounded sincere as he continued, asking, “Are you?”

Bahorel smiled for real then, even though it pulled against the cut on his nose. He didn’t answer, but slung an arm around Grantaire’s shoulders, pulling him briefly against his side. For a short moment, Grantaire relaxed against him, some of the tension draining out of his body as he tipped his head to rest against Bahorel’s chest. When he broke away, the worried lines at the corners of Grantaire’s eyes were smaller, and he shook his head, sad and knowing.

Grantaire squeezed his arm, picked up the bottle again, and moved away to kneel next to Joly, offering it to him silently. After a moment, Bahorel moved too, back over to the couch. He sat down in the middle, so his leg just brushed against Feuilly’s where he was leaned back into a corner of the cushions, an empty mug clutched in his hands and a far away look in his eye.

Across the room, Enjolras and Combeferre had their heads bent together, talking in low voices. Enjolras’s hand rested lightly against Combeferre’s arm in what looked like an unconscious gesture that Bahorel understood all too well. They all needed touch right now, a solid reminder that they were still here: disheartened and with a few more broken pieces than before, but nominally safe. He pushed aside the insistent voice in his head that knew it was only a temporary safety. They would have to take measures, be more careful, there were things he needed to do to ensure that nothing like this ever happened again.

A hand landed on his knee and Bahorel looked over at Feuilly, wordlessly greateful for his presence in a way he wasn’t sure how to express. He leaned more fully into the warmth of him, focused instead on the steadiness of his breaths and the softness of his hoodie where Bahorel’s arm rested against his.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional whispered conversation, and this time, the quiet didn’t bother him as much. It was a stilness, hinting that maybe, eventually, they would be ok.

[sparda3g]

Attack on Titan Chapter 122 Review

Ever since the anime season this year ended, the momentum has been phenomenal. Some would believe this would not only lose it but fall off of a cliff alas jumping the shark. Fans have followed since the beginning and remain loyal to this day. After 122 chapters, I can safely say this series still got it. That itself is amazing, but what this chapter delivered is unfathomable. It didn’t just deliver the explanation we have long desired for, it rewarded us for being loyal to this very day.

It opens up with Frieda and Historia’s flashback, centering on the story of a young girl who was loved by everyone. She was called Ymir. She was deemed as “ladylike;” an inspirational figure if you may call her. As fans know, she is the founder of the Titans. They also know her loyalty is to the Royal Family alas a slave. Basically, her figure can be seen as a role model, but her background and history say otherwise. It transition to Ymir’s backstory and from there, the truth is far colder than I can imagine.

It’s heartbreaking, disturbing, and probably the darkest of the series, and that says a lot. As the chapter’s title implies, it takes place 2,000 years ago. Ymir was only a child; a slave who worked hard in the midst of agonizing environment. Throughout the backstory, she never speak a word, but her expression tells tons. This is Isayama’s finest artwork delivery. The amount of effort put in is astonishing, and it only gets better.

The king wanted the culprit who set the pigs free and all the slaves pointed at her. We don’t know if she was even the culprit, but the painted image of everyone backstabbing her for the “greater good” is hard-hitting. She must take the fall and so, she accepted it. That’s purely corrupted and disheartening. Blame a child for your foolish act. But it didn’t matter; the king took it and free her to the forest, where she will be running from death by her own people.

I like to point out how disturbing it is to use the phrase, “You are free,” in a very cruel manner. It makes me believe the ending page of the series is about her. It’s still a speculation, but the chance has increased. Her suffering aches me and the flashback just started, let alone her character. She found the giant tree and entered inside for shelter. But instead, she fell down to the river with a supernatural object that resembles a spinal cord swimming towards her. They fused without a dance and thus, a titan is born. What a great sequence.

I love how it plays off as a phenomenal event and rightfully so. It’s the beginning of everything. It has to be treated as the second coming or the Holy Grail. It’s interesting to see a supernatural element in this series. Granted, a lightning strike, changing into a giant form, and Shifters wielding a special power are supernatural, but this is the origin, before titan became a thing. It has to start somewhere, so this is acceptable. I strongly doubt we will see more of supernatural entity like aliens. This is more of mythology use, the Tree of Life if you may, and Isayama is no stranger.

One would think Ymir’s life would turnaround for the better with her newfound ability. It did not; amazingly, it’s much worse. The King paid much “respect” towards her, thanks to her titan power. By that logic, this means she is “rewarded” to be his wife. The sad part is, earlier in the chapter, she witnessed a wedding that was presented as a blissful moment for the two. She’s no longer a slave to do labor work; she’s a slave to do everything. She’s rewarded a marriage and yet, she’s left cold and depressed. It’s disheartening to say the least.

She does all the works the King command. From being sent to destroy Marleyans to bearing the children for weaponized reason, she’s a mess. Every moment should be filled with happiness, yet not once you see her happy. Not even a baby birth made her pleasant; instead, saddened and broken. Year after year of the same procedure, her life was long gone. We the fans are only seeing her in pilot mode or in other words, emotionless.

What’s interesting is the moment when she was killed. You would expect her death to be glorious or end with a bang, but it wasn’t the case. One of the soldiers took out a spear from underneath the sand and threw at the King, only for Ymir to jump and take it instead. She could have recovered, knowing she was a Shifter. However, she lost the will to live, so she never did; essentially, passed away. It almost happened with Reiner back at Marley, so it makes sense for her to go out like a normal human. I love the imagery of her soul fading away with the sight of a flower. What struck me is her family watched her dead with sadness, only for the next moment to destroy the sensation and embark a really dark scene.

If you once believe the King has any soul towards her, you’ll be dead wrong. After a shock, he recovered and angrily yelled at her to get back up and work. That’s seriously messed up. He had no remorse for her death; not even seeing her once as a person. He flat out called her their slave. It only took a chapter to hate the guy so much. It gets worse as he decided to feed his children with her corpse. That’s unbelievably disturbing. I’m surprised at the raw image as well as disgusted. At least we know the walls are named after the three children; better not reveal that history. How this series not Seinen? I guess it was missing one cuss word to be qualified.

The most heartbreaking part is, even in the afterlife, Ymir is still a slave. In the King’s deathbed, his last wish was an order for his children to spread Ymir’s blood through generation after generation. Not even a touching moment for them; selfishly placed dictatorship over family. Sadly, they obeyed his last wish and through countless generations, the titans have grown.

It explained how the titans essentially break into different traits alas Shifters, including Jaw and Colossal Titan. After spreading for so long, it eventually formed a new type. It’s bizarrely insane. The King can enjoy in hell, while Ymir is forever a slave, creating countless titans. She outclassed all the suffering characters; bar none. It’s pure tragedy. She cannot be freed for 2,000 years and counting. Her life is only used as a weapon; nothing more, nothing less. The backstory ends here. The next scene, oh boy, here we go.

Eren finally reveals his true color and the sole reason to obtain her power: to end this world. Out of context, he would definitely been seen as a villain. Joker, watch out! But seriously, it’s the Rumbling and like he said at the beach, he’s going to put an end to this madness. While the request can definitely be interpreted as a villainy act, the intention is dare I say reasonable.

The idea I get is he wants to factory reset the world. The damage was done 2,000 years ago and its effect goes on to this day. Evil brought upon the titans to its existence. The irony approach to put an end is to use those colossal titans inside the wall. What stared the madness will end with madness. I don’t remember who said this quote about World War, but the third war will be the worst war of our time; the fourth one will have people use sticks and stones. It’s something like that. Basically, it means the world will restart after mass destruction, and that’s what Eren is going to unleash. Not necessarily kill his friends, but end the tyranny war.

I love the last psychological battle between the brothers. Eren wants Ymir to know she is only human; not a God nor a slave. As for Zeke, he wants to stop Eren from unleashing hell on Earth. Out of context, this sounds like Zeke is the good guy, but it’s complicated. Their choice of words to persuade Ymir are night and day. Not because of what they wished for, but what they cared for. When it’s all said and done, it’s perfectly clear which argument matters more.

The major key difference is how they approach to her. Eren may want the world to end, but he believes it’s up to her to decide. More importantly, what she truly feels. With Zeke, all value was lost when he yells at her to grant his wish because he ordered her. He believed he’s right because he carried the blood of the Royal Family; symbolically, history repeats itself or more like, the chain never ends. Eren wants to end it and apparently, so does her.

It is clear Isayama has planned this far ahead as well as improved his artwork tremendously.Thankfully so, because the delivery is powerful. Ymir’s emotion with tears is raw; I felt her agony and now, she can finally let it go. I love the fact Isayama didn’t show her eyes until now; making this moment impactful. You feel free along with her. The pain must end now. To top it all off, alongside with great artwork, it also contain the perfect circle; one that rewards the fans for supporting the work for a long time.

Eren may have a villainy idea, but his heart still contains purity. He wanted her to let go; end her misery. He knows deeply for 20,000 years, she waited for anyone to free her, and he is the guy. It finally hits me that this chapter’s title resembles to the first chapter. It was a message to Eren to save her; this time, it’s the reply she has been waiting for. Absolutely magnificent. Now I get those panels that resemble to Eren’s dream. Not to mention, the tears. It must mean he felt the pain of a poor girl. I’m convinced the ending will have Eren carrying Ymir to let her know she’s freed. I can be wrong, but I wouldn’t mind being right. Ymir makes her decision, and by God almighty, what a crazy ending.

The last couple of pages are incredible. Isayama seriously went all out on his art. Back to reality, Eren’s spine reattach his head; basically, escape death. The image is jarring in a good way. The battle is stopped with the wall crumbling down. By this point, my jaw was dropped. The scenery is intense as hell. Gabi, the one who thought stopped the mayhem, is now witnessing it in front row. The wall is gone; out comes the mass of Colossal Titans. Translation: we’re in the endgame now.

What else can I say? Probably a lot more. The bottom line is, this chapter was outstanding. It delivered a really dark, cruel, and depressing backstory of Ymir that answered many questions and gave us reasons to feel awful for her, which ultimately led to the defining moment. When it comes down to it, the stories we heard from Eldians and Marleyans were true and false. Eren and Zeke’s final debate was mesmerizing. The full circle twist was so rewarding. The visual is among the best Isayama has delivered; perhaps the best. The atmosphere, the angle, the expression; everything is top quality. The ending got me hyped beyond the maximum level. This is it. It’s not the end of the world, but you can see it from here…